Posted by Commander Richard “Ricochet” O’Shea (Cmd Air Group (CAG)) in SB 257 - Klingon Bar (Attn: Ric)

Posted by Lieutenant Alexandra “Little Sehlat” Primage (Pilot. Grn Squad Ldr) in SB 257 - Klingon Bar (Attn: Ric)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Srothell Ch’zaolrirh (Chief Security Officer) in SB 257 - Klingon Bar (Attn: Ric)
Posted by… suppressed (11) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The promenade of SB 257 had quieted down since the Olinski’s arrival. There were still one or two shops open, including a small Klingon tavern. Ch’zaolrirh had spotted the tavern on the way in and figured it was as good a place as any to end the night. Once he and Ric could see it, he pointed it out. “I’m sure they’ve got something stronger there.”

Above the door was a crude sign. it read, “HIq naDev.” Klingon for, “Drink Here.” Inside, there were a few tables, Most of the patrons were in Star Fleet uniform, with the exception of a loan Saurian. When the two officers entered, it looked as though he was staring. However, that was just how he always looked.

Taking their seats, the Klingon barman wasted no time coming over. Smacking his hands on the table, he began to speak: “DujlIj ‘oH!?”

Ch’zaolrirh’s antannae twitched at the sound. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he felt fairly confident, he could order a drink at this point. Clearing his throat and furling his brow slightly, he responded, “Chech’tluth.”

The Klingon barely gave the COS a nod before turning towards Ric, “‘EJ?”

COS Ch’zaolrih

Ric’s Klingon was a bit rusty, but he was pretty sure he was just asked what he wanted to drink. Searching his memory for the right phrase, he repled, “nIm wIb ngogh je waqmey HInob. ‘oH.”

The look on the Klingons face indicated to Ric that his language skills were rustier than he first thought.

Ricochet (CAG)

The waiter slammed both of his hands on the table. With a grunt, he shoved off… hopefully to get their drinks.

Ch’zaolrirh blinked, “He is either coming back with our drinks or a bat’leth.” The COS relaxed into his seat. Although the black and white ball was meant to be recreational, he had felt on duty during the entire affair. It might have been the captain’s presence or it might have just been his formal uniform. Either was it was good to finally grab a break. He looked over at Ric, “So Commander, how are you doing?”

COS Ch’zaolrirh

Ric kept his eyes on the large Klingon as he continued his conversation with the COS.

“I’m good, at least for the moment. . . uh, Chaz, my Klingonese is a bit rusty. I didn’t say anything offensive to the big guy, did I? Now that I think about, I may have called his mother a hamster, by accident.”

The two could hear their waiter raising his voice, speaking/yelling at another Klingon at the bar. Looks and fingers and fists were pointed and shaken in the direction of the only two non-Klingons in the place.

“He’s looking a bit disgruntled. I can probably talk my way out of it, but just in case, you’ve got my back, right?”

Ricochet (CAG)

“It might be tough. Commander Harn doesn’t let me carry my Ushaan-Torr on duty,” the Andorian joked. A moment later the waiter returned with two glasses. Plopping them onto the table with some force, he called out “Heghlu’meH QaQ jajvam.” With that, he walked off.

Ch’zaolrirh peered over the tops. The Chech’tluth was smoking, but that was normal. Pulling the glass towards him, a puzzled look came over his face as he looked at Ric’s drink. The concoction was cloudy and white. Unable to make sense of the commander’s order, the waiter settled on bringing him some Klingon Targ Milk. By the looks of it, the commander had managed to order it chunky.

“Is that… milk?”

COS Ch’zaolrirh

“Uh. . . . maybe I ordered a mug of his mothers breast milk?”

Peering into the bar, Xandra quickly managed to see a couple folks she knew. She hadn’t seen Ric, yet, but if he wasn’t in here, someone would know where he went. The dress she wore (*) was definitely an eye turner and out of place in the joint and it wasn’t long before the wave of turned heads, whistles and cat calls filled the air around her passing.

One or two had the guts to approach with invitations to their ships, or quarters. And a pirate Captain had even offered her a coffer of jewels to become the crowing one on his ship. She politely turned them down with enough finesse and diplomacy that most took their comrad’s jeers and toddled off feeling shot down.

One didn’t seem to take no for an answer and pursued her as she headed for the bar. He insisted she was looking for him, and likewise he had been searching all his life for her. He tried to buy her a drink, which she also refused and then settled to lean on the counter beside her as if he would never leave. Even going so far as murmuring ‘she’s with me’ when someone else approached to try his luck with her.

With an ale in her hand, her dark eyes swept the room for her lover and supervisor in hopes that he was here. She didn’t fancy a night of bar hopping and bad pick up lines.

Xandra
Pilot

(*) (( her dress.... https://images.app.goo.gl/xa9xVj1Wq4A9zWXF6 ))
OOC: va-va-va-voom!!!!!

IC: Still deciding if he wanted to taste the drink or not, Ric looked up when he heard Xandra’s voice admonishing would-be suitors. His eyes almost popped out when he saw what she was wearing.

The andorian’s antannae perked up. It appeared as though Xandra had made a full recovery.

“Ohhhhh, Chaz, this could be trouble. She should not be in here dressed like that. . . . “

The Andoran nodded in understanding as Ric excused himself from the table.

Ric practically jumped from his seat and quickly made his way across the room to Xandra. He pushed his way past some of the other patrons that had begun to gather around the pilot. “Sorry, guys, sorry, but the lady is already taken. Move along now She isn’t the woman you’re looking for.”

The crowd dispersed a bit as Ric took Xandra by the elbow and began to lead her back to the table where Chaz waited. What the hell are you thinking, coming in here dressed like that. You’re liable to start a—“

Ch’zaolrirh grabbed his drink as he watched the couple approach.

He was cut-off when a Klingon couple stepped into his path. Both the male AND female looked at Xandra with a hungry lustful loo in their eyes. The male placed his hand on Ric’s chest and began to push the CAG away. He addressd Xandra in a sultry (at least for a Klingon voice and asked, “neH mIw wej?”

Ricochet (CAG)

It looked like the drinks would have to wait. Placing his glass down, Ch’zaolrirh quietly rose from the table. He didn’t want to have to explain an altercation to Jason or Sidney, but if push literally came to shove, there wasn’t much the COS could do about it. All he knew for certain was that it would be better to end any scuffle quickly before the entire bar was incensed.

As the Klingons continued to oogle over Xandra, the Andorian slowly approached them from behind. No doubt Ric was already focused on the male, so the Andorian made his mark on the female.

COS Ch’zaolrirh

Xandra frowned as Ric managed to make her feel like a child who’d gotten out of bed without permission. “I came to see you and surprise you. I don’t give two blasts what anyone else thinks.”

As the bold Klingon started to push Ric away and make advances on her, she shook her head. “Sorry, I’m taken.” She moved towards Ric but somehow her protective nature made her take the extra move of getting between him and Klingon. “I don’t share,” she said, then glanced at the Klingon female. “No offense. But I just came to get him.” She nodded to Ric.

Ric batted the Klingons hand away from his chest and prepared to act. “My Klingon may be a bit rusty, but I understood that well enough. They weren’t inviting me, hon!”

She saw the Security Chief come up on her sight edge and hoped he was gonna go with her and Ric as they left.

Xandra
Pilot

The male growled and took and caught Ric’s wrist, grabbed the front of his shirt and began to lift the CAG. Ric’s eyes grew big as his feet left the ground.

Ch’zaolrirh furled his brow. Looking away from the Klingons for a moment, he made eye contact with Xandra as if to confirm that she was ready to join him in the brawl.

“This is gonna hurt!!” The next thing he knew, Ric was soaring above the crowd, over the bar, and into the back shelf filled with various liquors from at least two dozen different cultures. With a thud, he hit the ground behind the bar, alcohol splashing over him. . .

Ricochet (CAG)

The COS wasted no time reacting. Jabbing his elbow into the back of the female Klingon he attempted to knock her out of the way before turning his attention to Rick’s attacker. By Klingon standards the move would have been considered less than honorable, but for an Andorian it would get the job done.

COS Ch’zaolrirh

OOC: Fixing the text colors. Hate how the new site mis-registers the carrots sometimes..

Xandra cried out as Ric was lifted and tossed. Without thinking, she balled up her fist and aimed for the Klingon male’s face as the Security Chief attempted to remove the female from the equation. “HEY!!” She growled, followed by a few choice words whose definition was clear in any language.

She wasn’t big, or strong, but she knew how to throw a punch. It didn’t occur to her whether the Klingon would go down or not. She merely wanted the attention on her.

“Get Ric!” She growled at the Chief. She wasn’t sure if she was scared of the male or female more. But she did know she wasn’t going rushing to Ric’s side in a flood of tears. Klingons despised weakness. Besides… they didn’t call get Little Sehlat just because of adorable baby pics that were leaked in flight school. This clad in white, little strip of a female human, was furious like a hellcat, now.

Xandra
Pilot
(Ooc… something tells me this gown isn’t gonna survive this well lol)

Ric grabbed a bar rag and wiped off his face. He tipped his head back to catch a stream of liquid spilling onto the floor. Hoping it was some type of alcohol, he swallowed two big gulps. He stood up from behind the bar to see a full-scale brawl had broken out. He spotted Chaz holding his own, so he thought once morre unto the breach. He spotted Xandra throwing fists at the Klingon that had started this ruckus. Bless her heart, she’s fighting for her man. I love that woman, he thought.

Ric dove off the bar and straight onto the broad back of Klingon. He wrapped his arms around the thick neck and tightened the chokhold. With his legs, Ric wrapped them around the Klingons waist and hung as the brute warrior went into a rage. To Ric, it felt like hanging on to a bucking bronco. As the Klingon thrashed about spinning and reaching for the gnat that had attached himself, Ric caught sight of Xandra and yelled, “THIS IS THE BEST FIGHT EVER!!!”

Ricochet (CAG)

Ch’zaolrirh turned as he heard the CAG call out. It seemed as though he was back in the thick of it. Before the Andorian could react, a fist connected right up into the center of his gut. He groaned slightly as he stammered back. It was the barman. The overweight Klingon snarled as he began to move in for another strike.

The sight sent Ch’zaolrirh back to his first close combat training session at the academy. He could hear the instructor’s voice now: “If he’s bigger than you, you’re only way of disabling him will be with a double handed strike. It’s an oldie, but a goodie and they say it even got Admiral Kirk through a few scraps. Now, put your hands together and interlace your fingers to form one fist, just like this… then widen your stance.” As the Andorian thought about attempting the aging maneuver on the Klingon, he had a second vision of it costing him nearly all of the bones in his fingers. He opted for another tactic.

Jumping out of the way, he allowed the barman’s next punch to land squarely on a column behind him. As he did, the Andorian’s antannae twitched. Something was coming from his right. He instinctively grabbed for a chair and threw it in that direction. As he did, he glimpsed over to see it barrel towards the Klingon female from earlier.

As the fight escalated it would only be a matter of time before Station Security came to round everyone up. In the meantime, they could all remain hopeful that no one would draw a weapon.

COS Ch’zaolrih