Posted Aug. 7, 2018, 3:50 p.m. by Civilian Kvaar'Ton The Builder (Klingon Warrior) (Jeremy DeSpain)
Posted by Civilian Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) in Museum - Klingon Research (Open to all)
Posted by Civilian Kvaar’Ton The Builder (Klingon Warrior) in Museum - Klingon Research (Open to all)
Posted by Civilian Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc (Klingon Warrior) in Museum - Klingon Research (Open to all)
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Urg’tohn’s massive frame found it’s way to the doors of the museum and he walked through. A low murmur of voices - children on field trips, people taking pictures, tour guides talking and the like - lent a calm background to the building’s chambers. A welcome desk sat in the middle of the lobby, and the woman seated there took a step or three back as the hulking figure of the Klingon strode purposefully to the desk. Curling his hands into fists, he put them knuckles down on the desk and said “Weapons. Where do you display the weapons?”Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc and Amateur Archaeologist(?)
The woman moved back from the intimidating figure and said “I… um… I mean… uh… do… I mean…” she stammered before Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc and Chose of Kvaar’ton the Builder smiled at her, his face becoming simultaneously friendly and unsettling. “Calm, dear one… calm. Yes, it is I. The Chosen of The Builder. And he has beckoned me to come here… to you… to grant you the glory and honor of aiding me and my brother’s quest to find the D’k tahg of Lord Marshall Pr’Kenth. It is a relic of the Builder… and it will be returned to him. Now, young one… direct me to your weapons display so that I may see if the holy relic is to be found here this day.” and he leaned in closer. “And then, perhaps, you and I can discuss plans for the evening.”
The woman was stunned into silence. Whether this was due to her being truly in awe of the massive Klingon before her (doubtful), or the sheer incomprehensibility of the audacity of the offer he just made (probably), she simply raised her arm and pointed off to her left. Urg’tohn ginned and stood up, blew her a kiss, and then began skipping (yes, skipping) towards the Ancient History section of the museum.
Urg, Tohn, Son of the House of Duroc, Chosen of Kvaar’ton, Delicate Flower
Urg’tohn carried his pace until he reached the massive wing where the displays of myriad cultures from known space were set for viewing. He slowed and walked into the cavernous hall and began walking through the various displays.
He was humming off-key a song his brother Q’ragh had written, and he smiled at the thought of his eldest brother’s reaction to hearing his youngest sibling butcher his prized piece of poetry. Yes, the fight they would have in this place would be one for the fables of House Duroc. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, sending a group of school children fleeing for their chaperone. He rounded a corner and suddenly the song died in his throat and he stopped in his tracks.
His eyes had fallen on a square transparent display case, approximately five meters high and almost as wide. Inside sat a piece of jet black rock rippled with ribbons of dark crimson. The massive stone sat squat and ugly on the base of the display; and embedded in it were pieces of fossilized bone, skulls, teeth, and scales. The rock and bone made a mound-like appearance, on top of which protruded a handle. The handle was ancient… and massive. Almost three-quarters long as Urg’tohn was tall, it sat extending upwards at an angle from the rock which encased whatever lay at the heart of the rock. Urg’tohn looked at the metal, and a single tear fell from his eye.
Slowly, he walked past the red rope designating viewers to stop, and right up to the glass enclosure. He paid no attention to the small plaque that described the artifact:
“A piece of unidentified mineral recovered from Quo’nos archaeological dig, circa 2214. The mineral is of a yet unknown material, and prevents all scanning and attempts to remove the artifact. It is hypothesized that it is a mining tool of some kind from before the time of the Klingon Empire, but until the rest of the item can be viewed it’s true purpose is not known. The fossils seen in the hardened mineral are thought to belong to an unknown and extinct race of mammalian and reptilian animals who died in the vicinity of the abandoned tool.”
“Artifact on loan from House Juv, Quo’nos, Klingon Empire”
He raised his right hand and placed it on the surface in an almost reverential fashion, and then a few brief moments later the other, and slowly placed his forehead ridges against the glass. His eyes never left the handle, and his entire body began to tremble. Where as his mere presence had drawn attention when he entered, his behavior now was causing a good many whispers from many and the few who knew better than to deal with a potentially unstable Klingon to leave the room quickly. Urg’tohn paid them no mind. His eyes narrowed and his blood grew warm and slowly his hands clenched into fists, his nails actually scractching the clear display case.
“I know you…” he whispered out loud to the seemingly inanimate object, speaking to it as he would an elder of his House… if any had existed. “I know you from my dreams… from my blood. Kvaar’ton… He has guided me to you. You will be restored, and the glory of the Builder will be yours once more.”
Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc, Chosen of Kvaar’ton
It was as if Urg was not alone looking at the Hammer. There was a very large even compared to his own, hand that settled on his shoulder. Though nothing could be seen. The shaft of the unknown tool trembled in place then fell forward against the pressed ridges of Urg, the glass separating them. In his ears and his heart he could hear the tale of Kvaar’ton, he could feel it, as if he had lived it for a brief moment.
Several lights burst in coruscating shards as the face of Kvaar’ton was visible for a moment. “You know it exists, and where it is that is enough for now.”
Kvaar’ton the Pragmatic
OOC: you have already read it, but part 3 is not up, and this is what Urg experienced.
https://www.star-fleet.com/core/stf6/oedv/notes/5529/
-Jeremy
As the haft shifted and fell forward, the onlookers gasped and pointed. Urg’tohn paid them no mind, but closed his eyes and placed a hand of his own onto the ethereal he hand he felt but could not see. He was still in this position when Museum Security arrived. The three guards stopped short and looked wide-eyed at the Klingon and the display, then at each other, mouths agape. One grabbed his communicator and said in a shaking voice “W-w-w-we need the Supervisor down here. Now. And the Curator.” and then looked at the small crowd that had watched what transpired. “Um… I… I… I mean, I’m gonna need statements from all of you before you leave the museum.” and he started gesturing somewhat frantically at his partners to start rounding up the onlookers. Throughout this exchange, Urg’tohn slowly slid down until he knelt on the ground and sat on his legs, one hand still touching the other side of the glass opposite the end of the handle trapped inside the display and forehead still on the glass.
A scant few minutes went by and suddenly there came two figures into the hall - a tall Vulcan female and short furry Antican male. The canine-like Antican went up to the three guards and started questioning them as to what happened. The Vulcan simply stood and looked at the display for a few moments, the only registration of a reaction was an arching of her eyebrow. As the security staff began taking statements, the two new arrivals slowly walked towards the kneeling Klingon. The Vulcan spoke first.
“I am Satrin Kols, the curator of this museum. Please tell me your name, and what is your connection to this display?” The Antican looked at her and said slightly too loudly to be a whisper “Have you lost your ever-loving mind? His connection? He broke a priceless relic on loan to us from a Klingon Nobel House! Do you know what they are going to do to us when they find out what -” and he was cut off by the sudden whirlwind of movement.
Urg’tohn spun around as he came to his feet and covered the distance between him and the two Museum officials in less than a second. His teeth were bared in an grimace of rage and his hands were clenched into fists. He was breathing so heavy that the Antican got flecks of spittle on his face and chest. The crowd stumbled back as the gargantuan Klingon moved, and everyone present knew that blood was about to be spilled… but it wasn’t.
Any who had dealt with Urg and his brothers would have put real money on a bet that the Klingon was about to destroy the two who stood before him. But he didn’t raise his fists. He didn’t touch them at all. He looked down at them, the whites of his eyes red with the emotions raging inside him. But when he spoke through gritted teeth, his voice was calm, measured, and even. It was almost as if someone else was speaking through him.
“I am Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc, Chosen of Kvaar’ton, Third-Born of the Brothers of The Lost House. I lay formal claim to the relic before you. It belongs to the House of Duroc, and I demand it’s immediate return. Until such time as I and my brothers are given opportunity to present our claim in whatever zoo you consider your judicial system, I will not allow anyone to touch this holy relic of Kvaar’ton the Builder.” and he stepped back and crossed his massive arms across his chest. “Now. Fetch your law. And bring me my brothers!”
There was a pause as everyone in the room watched the interaction silently. Then suddenly, everyone started talking, some clapped, and some of the staff scrambled to find someone… anyone… to help. For her part, the Vulcan simply looked at Urg and, after a few moments contemplation, nodded and said to the Antican “Please send word to the police that their presence is requested… and ask them to please bring all members of House Duroc, and a forensics team, with them.” And she stepped forward a small fraction and said to Urg “I am most interested in seeing how this transpires.”
Urg’tohn, Son of the House of Duroc
In the brief moment that the attention had been drawn away from the hammer it had righted itself within the display. Settling back in the way it had been originally as if some hand had moved it back into place. To Teh untrained eye it would appear nothing was different. To the trained eye, such as the Curator, parts of the mineral that enclosed the tool as they referred to it, had flaked away, revealing a carved partial relief of some symbol. Urg would know it to be the unbroken symbol of Kvaar’ton the Beast, not the builder, and that meant this was the Hammer that he took to his death, not the one carried earlier in his campaigning against the demons. The one that he used to crack the lair open, and enter the belly of the beast itself.
KVaar’ton, the Beast
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