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RickSWEF
Strangest of the Strange
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Pinnacle Inc. Journals for Mission Assignment 060905

Posted below are character journals for this mission.

---
I'm CRAZY!!!!

Rick
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fm@swef.net
8/Jun/05, 10:28 pm Send Email to RickSWEF   Send PM to RickSWEF ICQ Blog
 
GreydonQiVo
Twisted Beyond Belief
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R.O.U.S's 1 - Brask and Kahlan 0...

<Brask> ACTION: The shuttle continues on its way, with Kahlan and Brask in the back, licking their wounds. Metaphorically speaking of course.

<Kahlan> ::gets what she needs from the shuttle's first aid supplies and sits down next to Brask:: Brask: Some nasty critters those were huh?

<Brask> :: nods, looking her over:: Kahlan: Yes, I hope you aren't too badly hurt.

<Kahlan> ::smiles:: Brask: I'll be all right. Let's see how you are. ::looks him over:: Looks like you could use a few stitches.

<Brask> Kahlan: I'm alright, they weren't that strong.

<Kahlan> ::raises an eyebrow, then smears some bacta on the worst of his cuts, carefully stitching them up:: Brask: Maybe not one at a time, but in a pack like they were... ::shudders::

<Brask> :: smiles:: Kahlan: I am just glad they were not able to harm you too badly.

<Kahlan> Brask: Never worry about yourself do you? ::works on a couple more of his cuts::

<Brask> :: tilts his head, having never really thought about it much:: Kahlan: I suppose not. But is that a bad thing? :: stays still while she patches him up::

<Kahlan> ::laughs:: Brask: It could be, if there comes a time when saving others will get you killed. ::shrugs as she finishes the last stitch:: How do you feel?

<Brask> :: smiles, like he usually does:: Kahlan: Fine.

<Kahlan> ::frowns in thought for a moment, then tries to read Brask's emotions::

<Kahlan> ::looks surprised when she gets absolutely nothing, but says nothing for now:: Brask: I guess I have to take your word for it.

<Brask> :: looks at her, confused but nods:: Kahlan: Now it's your turn. Do you need assistance?

<Kahlan> ::looks over her wounds, some of which would be quite difficult to reach herself:: Brask: Do you know how?

<Brask> :: shakes his head:: Kahlan: No, but I am used to handling delicate electronics, I could probably manage it, with your expert guidance of course. :: smiles::

<Kahlan> ::frowns, but shrugs:: Brask: I guess I have little choice. Just smear bacta on the worst bites and sew it up. It's not overly difficult except the worry about hurting the patient. ::laughs a little uneasily::

<Brask> :: nods, taking the supplies and starting to rub bacta on her cuts::

<Kahlan> ::thinks as she watches him::

<Brask> :: continues to apply the bacta, remembering something she had said before:: Kahlan: You said before that you can affect emotions, is that true?

<Kahlan> ::nods:: Brask: Usually, yes. Why?

<Brask> :: shrugs:: Kahlan: I just didn't know that about Zeltron. Although, seeing as how I knew nothing about Zeltron that shouldn't be a surprise. :: laughs, putting the bacta away as he finishes::

<Kahlan> ::laughs:: Brask: What do you know about your own people?

<Brask> :: shrugs:: Kahlan: Not a great deal. I was born on Tynna, I have never even seen Bothawui. My parents died on a mission for Pinnacle when I was sixteen, and after that I joined up, continuing their work. :: shrugs:: Haven't had a great deal of time to visit the Bothan home world.

<Kahlan> ::nods:: Brask: My parents died when I was small, and my grandmother raised me. She died before I could finish my medical training. I used my inheritance for a vacation and we were hijacked. I've been working my way home ever since.

<Brask> :: nods, taking the other equipment and carefully sewing up her cuts, taking great care not to hurt her, his rock steady hands helping him manage it::

<Kahlan> ::smiles:: Brask: You're good at this.

<Brask> :: smiles back:: Kahlan: I'm glad I'm able to help. :: looks happy to be patching her up for once::

<Kahlan> Brask: You know I cannot only effect emotions...I can read them too.

<Brask> :: looks up as he finishes one of the cuts:: Kahlan: Really?

<Kahlan> Brask: Most of the time...but not yours. Perhaps one more piece of the puzzle we were thinking over earlier

<Brask> :: frowns:: Kahlan: You cannot sense my emotions?

<Kahlan> ::shakes her head:: Brask: Not at all.

<Brask> Kahlan: Has that ever happened before?

<Kahlan> Brask: No. Never.

<Brask> :: frowns again:: Kahlan: This is indeed a strange situation. :: ignores it for the time being though and continues sewing up her cuts, his smile returning:: So, what could you have done, had you been able to sense my emotions?

<Kahlan> ::shrugs:: Brask: It's just that you are so calm even when we're being eaten alive. I was concerned you might not be as calm as you act. So I checked...

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I assumed as much. :: cleans another cut:: But I meant, what could you do, if you wanted to make changes?

<Kahlan> Brask: I could calm you down. Well, other people. I imagine it doesn't work for you any more than sensing it to begin with.

<Brask> :: nods, almost done sewing:: Kahlan: Is that all?

<Kahlan> Brask: Well... You won't like this, but if I choose, I can project negative emotions as well. My people discourage it though.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I would hope so. :: looks up while cleaning a cut on her thigh:: So you have control over all emotions?

<Kahlan> ::nods:: Brask: If I choose to...

<Brask> :: smiles:: Kahlan: Interesting. :: looks down again, sewing up the cut on her thigh, carefully::

<Kahlan> ::shrugs:: Brask: All of my people can do it, so I never found it very interesting

<Brask> Kahlan: That is because you grew up with it. :: finishes cleaning and sewing up the cuts he can see with her sitting down::

<Kahlan> ::smiles:: Brask: Thank you. You did a fine job. ::hugs him::

<Brask> :: hugs her back:: Kahlan: I would not have been able to do it without your instruction.

<Kahlan> ::shrugs:: Brask: It really isn't that difficult, since you're used to working with small things.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I'm just glad I could help. :: smiles::

<Kahlan> ::grins and kisses him:: Brask: You're always a help to me.

<Brask> :: is less surprised by the kiss this time around and smiles brighter:: Kahlan: Good, then you won't be rid of me any time soon.

<Kahlan> ::laughs and shakes her head:: Brask: No way. I'd miss you too much.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I would miss you too.

<Kahlan> Brask: Good, then it's settled. We'll stick together. ::smiles:: Well, unless of course we receive direct orders to the contrary.

<Brask> :: nods, smiling again::

<Kahlan> ::stands up to stretch and winces:: Brask: I think we missed one...

<Brask> :: frowns, looking worried:: Kahlan: Oh?

<Kahlan> ::turns around and shows him the hole in the seat of her pants:: Brask: Feels like one of them got me from behind before I fell...

<Brask> :: frowns, tilting his head to look at the cut, before retrieving the supplies once again:: Kahlan: The same as before? :: indicating the bacta and stitches::

<Kahlan> ::nods:: Brask: Yes, unfortunately. I may need to sit on a cushion for a few days. ::laughs::

<Brask> :: laughs and nods, taking the bacta and rubbing it onto the cut softly, not being skittish about it like a certain Avalon Linguist would::

<Kahlan> ::stands still, not wanting to shake the booty and distract him::

<Brask> :: pauses as he cleans the cut, leaning back slightly and tilting his head, Kahlan can likely feel that he has stopped::

<Kahlan> Brask: What is it?

<Brask> :: looks closely at her:: Kahlan: I believe my holo image is inaccurate in a few places. I didn't notice before. :: leans forward again and continues his work::

<Kahlan> ::laughs:: Brask: We can fix that if you'd like.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I didn't think it was that off. But I have never really been able to get a close enough look to be certain. Since I am programming it by memory. :: finishes cleaning the cut and takes out the other supplies, starting to sew up the cut::

<Kahlan> Brask: Well, you could always use me for a model if you'd like. For real, not from memory I mean

<Brask> :: his animal-like ears perk up:: Kahlan: Really? That would be extremely helpful. :: smiles widely:: I was going to ask before, but I assumed you were too busy for such things most of the time. :: turns back to finish sewing::

<Kahlan> ::shrugs:: Brask: Perhaps the next time we're traveling. There's not much to do then anyway.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: I may have to start a new model by then though, since you will probably be in different clothing by then. :: pokes his finger into a hole in her pants near her knee and pulls it out slightly to make his point::

<Kahlan> ::laughs:: Brask: Is it possible to do it without clothing, then add them into the program later? Maybe make her able to change clothes?

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: Yes, that is simple to program. But without knowing what each version looked like, including the base, it would be rather hard to program, and time consuming.

<Kahlan> ::grins:: Brask: The base?

<Brask> :: nods, focusing on his sewing:: Kahlan: The base model, in a design like you are suggesting it would be the one without clothing, and then the different versions with clothing would simply be layers added to that one. :: sounding somewhat technical:: But, if the base is not accurate, it would make all of the other layers inaccurate as well.

<Kahlan> ::grins even wider:: Brask: Oh. So you would need me to pose for you without any clothes?

<Brask> :: nods matter of factly, not catching her tone:: Kahlan: For a design like that one, yes. Well, I could do it without that. But like I said, it would be much more difficult and take probably three times as long to complete. :: finishes sewing and dabs a little extra bacta on the cut just to be safe:: All finished. :: smiles::

<Kahlan> ::smiles and turns around:: Brask: Thank you again. I would hate for you to have an inaccurate model. And since I change clothes often, doing it by memory isn't likely to work. I'd be happy to pose for a base model for you if you want. ::grins::

<Brask> :: stands and smiles again:: Kahlan: That would be very helpful. You're sure it's not too much trouble?

<Kahlan> ::laughs:: Brask: Trust me. It's no trouble at all.

<Brask> :: nods:: Kahlan: Thank you then. Now I suppose we have work to get back to. :: looks her over once more: No more hidden cuts?

<Kahlan> Brask: Not that I can feel. And I'm not going to look any closer. After all, Mike could decide to come back here. ::laughs::

<Brask> :: laughs and nods:: Kahlan: Of course. But if you find any more, that you can't handle, be sure to let me know. :: looks serious, then changes to one of his patented smiles::

<Kahlan> ::grins:: Brask: Of course. ::winks at him::

<Brask> :: nods, glad that the conversation with Kahlan helped him forget about the strange situation he finds himself in::

<Brask> <<<<End>>>>


---
"But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams." -- Sean Bean(Equilibrium)
10/Aug/05, 7:34 pm Send Email to GreydonQiVo   Send PM to GreydonQiVo ICQ AIM
 
admiralla
Seductive Temptress of Enchantment
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Trila's log

If emotions were visible, you could have easily seen a steady stream of smoke rising from the top of Trila's head as she sat to herself in one corner of the room with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms folded over the top of them. She rocked slightly on her bottom as the past few hours trespassed through her brain. She fumed even more at the thought of them.

If Simon were here we wouldn't be in this mess, she thought, we'd probably be running for our lives or be in some kind of shooting match with those things.... those aliens.

She smiled. It certainly was a more exciting thought. More exciting than sitting in a one roomed cell staring at the git she had for a partner on this expedition. He started out nice enough, but she really got the gist of him after he insulted her and called her insane to that moron, lizard-brain of an alien.

Hmph, make that TWO Lizard brains, her eyes drifted to Ian for a second.

Trila let out a sigh, scratching her side annoyedly at the poor excuse for clothing she had to wear. This was another reason to add yet another puff of smoke to her stack. They had taken one of best leather outfits and NOT given it back. Even after they had said they were finished with them and would release them! Who the hell did they think they were at least not giving them back their original clothing? Surely they'd had enough of gawking at her and Ian's naked forms to at least give them back their own clothes. The nerve!

Trila scowled again. If she didn't get her outfit back at least when things were over, there'd be nothing left to those Lizard beings only their hide to make herself a new outfit.

It was this thought that made her mood lighten a little and the wist of smoke steadily drifting from the top of her head began to dissipate....

---
Why are you worried about "You know who?" .... You should be worried about You No Poo! -- The constipation sensation that's gripping the nation!
10/Aug/05, 7:53 pm   Blog
 
RickSWEF
Strangest of the Strange
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Ian's Journal #1

They were well hid for the moment. He looked at each one of them, wondering what had happened to each one of them to make them look so different to him.

At first, they were just faceless, nameless operatives for Pinnacle Inc. He had a job with Kahlan and Brask before. It wasn't too far from the usual jobs he had been assigned to.

However, this job was different. The assignment sounded too easy to him. "Go check out the planet and etc." Unfortunately, it had evolved much beyond what he first imagined it to be.

Kahlan hadn't changed much, other than her obvious attachment to Brask. Being in certain situations, he figured it to be normal for someone to become attached to another who saves their life.

Brask, on the other hand, not only looked different, he acted much different. Ian knew there was something wrong, when Brask did not recognize him. He and Brask almost never saw eye to eye, and that conflict was always memorable to him. Something had to have happened to Brask to alter his mind. Of course his appearance does prove that there is some cybornetic implants or something in the Bothan. Perhaps those had an effect on his mind. Some side effect that no one could forsee.

He then looked to Trila. It was the first he had worked with her. Yet, he seemed to know more about her than the others. Their time with the Regtellians was quite revealing for both of them. Perhaps too revealing. A faint smile crossed his lips, and he thought of it. She definitely has spirit, but he felt that she didn't have the need for the work. Something told him that she was ready to leave the business. He might be mistaken though. It could be that she just wanted to get back to her precious Simon.

His eyes shifted to Will Cain. Dimitri's agent, sent to return the Commodore to his own territory. The man was a mess. Constantly twitching that nervous twitch of his. It made Ian dislike him even more. The attitude he gave was not helpful either. If he didn't need Will, Ian would have killed him long ago. He may do just that, when the time comes.

The Commodore. Ian eyed him closely, wondering what the man had done to cause this war to turn so ugly. Obviously, the man has loyal followers, but his enemies are just as ruthless as they are. Ian could imagine what could happen once the Commodore returned to his rightful place and became conscious enough to rule again. The possibilities were endless, but he knew that they would not take part in any of it. Ian would make sure that they left before the Commodore could include them in any of his plans.

He settled back into his hiding spot and closed his eyes. A glint of fading daylight stretched across his cheek, as the sun set. Ian took a deep breath and slowly released it. A calm feeling took hold of him, as he thought out what they had to do. There would be more death. He knew that. There would also be life. His life. He would make sure of that.

---
I'm CRAZY!!!!

Rick
SWEF Forum Manager
fm@swef.net
15/Oct/05, 11:26 am Send Email to RickSWEF   Send PM to RickSWEF ICQ Blog
 
RickSWEF
Strangest of the Strange
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Posts: 754
Karma: 3 (+3/-0)
Ian's Journal #2

Ian laid on his bunk, thinking of the small container under it. Yes, they might get paid for the assignment eventually, but he didn't care if they did or not. He had his already. As did the others. Maybe Brask could buy himself some skin that won't be so ugly next time. Maybe Trila could use it to take her man, Simon, some place far away. Maybe Kahlan will use it to go home and see her old friends. He didn't know, and he didn't care. As for his own plans, he had none. He would spend it as he needed it, when the time comes. Until then, he was just going to wait for the next job to come along.

He rolled out of his bunk and stretched. He remembered what Dimitri had said to him, after everyone was aboard the shuttle that would take them to the ship.

'It's only credits. I have no need for them here, at the moment. Until the Commodore is back on his feet, I have my hands full. I'm sure he would want you to have the credits, since you saved his life and everything. I have to hand it to you people. You really know how to do a job. I'd have you stay and help, but I can't afford you.'

He was right. He couldn't afford them. Ian knew then that Dimitri didn't have an agenda to take over. He did care for the Commodore and was happy to see him safe again.

Ian sat back on his bunk and reached under to pull the container out. He opened it up to see the credits staring back up at him. He had the guards carry the containers to the shuttle for them. There was no way he would carry it himself. Mostly because he needed his hands free to hold his rifle. The guards didn't care. They seemed happy to get rid of the mercenaries.

The container slid back under the bunk, and he laid down again. There wasn't much else to do. He hadn't slept since they arrived, and the exhaustion was catching up to him. He didn't want to sleep. Sleep was the worse thing he could do, or at least thats what he thought. Though he fought it, his eyes fell shut, and he was soon asleep.


"Ian! What have you done? Why did you do this to me?" the woman's voice cried. Her bloodied face was clearly in focus, and he could see the hurt and anguish on her face. Her hands were clutching at her own throat, and blood pumped between her fingers with each word. "What did I ever do to deserve this? I need answers. I need to know!"

He dropped to his knees, sobbing. "I never meant for this. I never wanted it to be this way. Please believe me!" He buried his face in his hands and cried.

"That's right. It is your fault that we killed her. It is your fault that she is dead. You killed us, but you have to live with this for the rest of your life. We don't have to even think twice about it. We're dead too." The familiar voices of those who murdered his wife cut through to him.

Their voices gave him a surge of anger. He wanted to kill them all over again, and again, and again. He stood up and looked down on their bloody corpses, hoping they would stand again to take another beating. Ian reached for his blaster, but it wasn't there. He had no weapons.

"Yes, you are defenseless. You will have to take everything we give you. Like it or not." The corpses were still goading him on.

"Please tell me. Why? Why is it like this? Why am I dead? Tell me!" The woman still cried and spurted blood.

The pain and anger and sadness tossed him back and forth. He couldn't be all at once. It was tearing him apart. Ripping at every fiber in his soul, if he had one left to rip. He wanted to kill the men who did this to him. He wanted to kill them over and over again. But also, he wanted to rush to his love and save her. Comfort her. Tell her everything he had not taken the time to tell her. He wanted to hold her again, most of all. To have her back in his arms and happy again. He missed her so much, it hurt. It had always hurt, since the day he lost her. Since the day they took her from him. The anger seeped back into him, and he wanted to kill all over again. Back and forth. Back and forth. They played his emotions like an symphony. The music was far from sweet, though. It was painful. It was his torture.


Sweat poured off of him, as he tossed and turned, violently in his bunk. A sharp knock on his door caused him to sit up. His heart pounded in his ears, as the sharp knock came again. "Mr. Hawkins. Dinner is being served in the mess hall. You requested a notice. Mr. Hawkins?"

He looked to the door and wiped his face with his hands. "Yeah. Thanks." It was all he could say, without catching his breath first. He looked around the small room, and realized where he was. Then he let it go. His hands met his face and he sobbed. There was no other outlet, other than his cold violent actions on the job. The sobbing helped, but it would never be enough. The violence helped, but it too would never be enough. Nothing would stop the torture he endured. Nothing at all.

---
I'm CRAZY!!!!

Rick
SWEF Forum Manager
fm@swef.net
21/Oct/05, 10:20 pm Send Email to RickSWEF   Send PM to RickSWEF ICQ Blog
 





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