Posted July 3, 2018, 7:08 p.m. by Lieutenant Dashel Jamison (Son of Morak) (Chief Intelligence Officer) (Russell Watt)
Posted by Civilian Michael Conrad (Black Sparrow CO) in Spaceport - Arrival of the Sons of the House of Duroc
Posted by Civilian Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) in Spaceport - Arrival of the Sons of the House of Duroc
Posted by Civilian Q’ragh, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) in Spaceport - Arrival of the Sons of the House of Duroc
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The comms on Oed V came to life.=/\= Human colony. This is K’vorth, second Son of the brothers of House Duroc. We are approaching your humble city and demand immediate clearance to dock.
What? Wait a minute.Urg! What do you mean the warp core is stuck on half impulse? Fix it! Then use a bigger hammer! Do I have to think of everything?
Alright I’m back. We demand immediate repairs and supplies to continue the holy quest for the D’k tahg of Lord Marshall Pr’Kenth, to restore the honor and name of the god Kvaar’ton.
What now Runt? What?! Can’t you see I’m on the communicator? Holes in what shielding? Then fix it! Press that flashing button or something! Kvaar’ton has provided for us, you think he will let us explode again?!
Right, I’m here. My Brothers are impatient, Kvaar’ton is a generous but demanding God worthy of our obedience. And yours. We will be docking in one Human hour. K’Vorth out. =/\=
As the large eye-patched and bald Klingon walked away, the comm system stayed active for a few more moments. He could be heard yelling out “Urg! You better fix that! We’re docking, and you know the brakes don’t work!” Before the comm line cut out, a ceiling panel could be seen falling down right where the big Klingon had been standing moments before.
Sensors showed a decades old Orion frigate, in need of much repair, coming directly to the colony at a semi-high rate of speed. After about an hour, and many arguments between several aggressive voices on the ship and Traffic Control, the ship docked and was secured. The Dock-master waited for many minutes for the crew to open the hatch so he could conduct the intake documentation.
When the ship finally began to open up, voices yelling loudly at each other in the Klingon native tongue were heard just before the hatch opened and out spilled a chaotic maelstrom of legs, fists, teeth, and flecks of pink blood. Dashing to the melee, the Dock-master grabbed one of the figures by the shoulder to break up the argument.
This is how the fight started.
Urg’tohn, Son of House Duroc
Although not quite as expected. At the dockmasters touch the fight seemed to almost immediately halt as three very large and very powerful looking Klingons, in the middle of cursing and fighting, a wild melee of fists and elbows, body checks and knees, suddenly stopped fighting, paused mid strike or bite as K’vorth, the bald headed and eye patched one, slowly looked around at his shoulder at the hand firmly placed on it.
“Break it up” came the voice of the human, used to dealing with this type of low life on an almost daily basis at the docks. “This is a respectable place, there will be no fighting here.” As if to back up his words, another half dozen or so men gathered close behind to let the Klingons know they had best be well behaved, they were outnumbered.
The single eye of the bald Klingon stared at the dockmaster a moment, then at the hand, then moved two the other two brothers and rested on each of them for a moment, the eyebrow above that single eye raised in pure innocence. Slowly, the Klingons head turned and that eye again looked at the hand and then focused on the dockmaster, all three Klingons still seemingly frozen mid punch.
“You dare to touch a Son of Duroc!?” The Klingon said, loudly, and in a tone that indicated he had just been heavily insulted. “Begone human Heathen. You are not worthy of his glory!” And in one sudden, swift and violent move the bald Klingons head snapped forward, impacting the bridge of the Dockmasters nose and resulting in a large cracking sound as the Dockmaster stumbled backwards a step, raising his hands to his shattered nose before collapsing in a heap.
Shrugging off the grasp of his Brothers, K’vorth turned and faced the group of workers, a wild grin on his lips, teeth bared, and fists clenching and relaxing in anticipation of the fun to be had. The previous fight with his siblings all but forgotten, K’vorth slowly cracked his neck nd raised his eyes skyward to give thanks to Kvaar’ton. “We have arrived, Brothers” he said in a tone now that was almost melodic with a worshipping tone “Kvaar’ton blesses us with a test of honor and courage to his gaze.”
K’vorth, Son of the House of Duroc
At the bottom of the pile of Klingon laid the one called Urg’tohn. As his brother ‘relocated’ the offending Dock-master, the foundation of the pile shrugged off the remaining brother and stood up… and up… and up. Towering almost half a foot taller than K’vorth, Urg’tohn stepped to stand next to his brother, placing a hand on the same shoulder that had led the Dock-master to his current state. “Praise be Kvaar’ton, my Brother!” he said as a bit of blood from a split lip splattered the floor. He looked at the group of workers and star ship crews who had assembled and, spying a large Orion in the middle of the group, extended a large and massively muscled arm, pointed and said “You! You will be the first to earn the blessings of pain and blood, sacred rite of Kvaar’ton! Know that I will sing of your valiant but futile fight against Urg’tohn of House Duroc in the halls of that nobel House!”
Urg’tohn, Third Son of House Duroc
For his part Kvaar’ton sat his not inconsiderate, yet whole unseen bulk upon the stack of they holy rock sheets of the House of Durok. The sheets were not even distrubed by his holy presence. The brothers three could feel he was among them as the lights of the ship flickered, mostly do to shoddy workmanship but a little from the psychic emannations of the Diety they served. The ramp groaned under the hydraulics or perhaps Kvaar’tons movement. It was his voice that they all 3 would have heard, intoning, in a loud bellow, of the deepest bass sound. Only they three and perhaps any near that were of the mind that could hear that which was unsaid by the mind of another.
“IT HAS BEGUN!”
Kvaar’Ton the Unshiftable
The shortest of the three warriors let out a loud and deep laugh, it’s rumbling echo bouncing back off the walls of the corridor. Perhaps because he was lighter and faster, he moved quicker than his brothers and was the first to actually strike one of the assembled non-klingons.
Bellowing at the top of his lungs, Q’ragh sang in his native tongue as he reached top speed and drop kicked a very surprised looking Vulcan, his feet impacting the man’s chest with a thud nearly as loud as he and his victim hitting the floor…
“Mi’ qul qar’a’
‘ej Do’ QI’ la’
QI’ DO’ Sum, qarI’ Do’ QI’la’
Sutem pa’ rI’ tlho’
mara’ ‘e’ qor!”-Q’ragh, Son of House Duroc
Urg’tohn charged immediately after his smaller brother, aiming directly for the big Orion. To his credit, the Orion didn’t shy away. He set his feet and braced for the incoming Klingon. Not to his credit, however, he did not expect the hulking figure to hit the deck and slide at the last minute. Using the momentum of his rush, Urg slid across the deck and took out the figure’s legs, knocking him flat on his face. Immediately gaining his footing, he turned. Leaping into the air, Urg had a look of pure joy (as much as a Klingon can be described as such) and landed with both knees on the Orion’s back, who responded with a loud cry as the breathe was forced from his chest.
Urg’tohn, Son of House Duroc
OOC: For keeping timelines right for Conrad, I believe this would take place before his Trip to Tyrellia. :)
IC: It was at that point that Michael Conrad, esteemed captain of the Black Sparrow, had made his presence known to the trio of Klingons. Conrad was well known in many civilian circles. It wouldn’t have surprised him if these Klingons had heard of him and his ship. While Conrad was not the type to do anything for anyone, he was the type to intervene in other people’s business if he had felt like it, whether it was for morals or just for fun.
Conrad had a few tricks up his sleeve. Had to with klingons anyway. Never trust a ferengi with a bargain, and never trust a klingon in a fight. Or at least that’s how he viewed things anyway. It wasn’t always true, but it helped keep his wits. All he had to do was lure them back to his ship.
He was close enough to his ship for a quick sprint back inside. Push come to shove, a quick beam out would work too. The Black Sparrow’s engines were purring like a kitten, so all was ready.
“Hey!” he shouted to the lot of them, his arms wide open. “You want a fair fight? Come on then.”
-Michael Conrad, Black Sparrow CO
OOC: And lets say that Dash was here before this as well … and thus before the new Head of Construction and Operations :P
IC: From his vantage point, the recently arrived CIO saw the arrival of the Klingon ‘ship’. And the altercation between the klingons and the local Starfleet officers and that the Starfleet officers were doing … badly … and then the man, from the ship name of ‘Black Sparrow’, and the recklessness of the man, Dash considered he could only be one person - Michael Conrad. Yes, Michael’s ‘fame’ had spread to Starfleet Intelligence, or at least some operatives in the department. The fool would get himself killed and then probably blame Starfleet or the Federation. Something was wrong in that chain of thought, but Dashel’s brain had already dashed on from it to something else, and he would work on what was wrong with it later.
He put in a call to Starfleet Security and then to the Oed V Police service about the incident for more assistance and then, also put in a call to the hospital … it seemed the locals would need medical attention. Drawing his bat’leth, Dash thought through his extensive Klingon vocab learned while he grew up on Quo’nos as an adopted son of a Klingon ambassador as he moved towards the fracas.
He spoke loudly and quickly in Klingon and motioned with his bat’leth as he did so. The translated English version went something like “your mothers were Tribble Lovers and your fathers had smooth foreheads! You four lack honour and bring dishonour to your house! ” He hoped that would at least quieten them down and give the Starfleet and Customs personnel a chance to regroup.
Then Dashel slipped into English, “I am Dashel Jamison, Son of Morak. I am also the CIO.”
-CIO
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