Cptn Corizon

Mission Brief: Incarceration of the Onion, Dox, Spots and Kitty continues. However, their captors have decided they aren't from Kansas. Kimura is attempting to peel the onion, a shady marine has been talking to Kitty and Spots. Corizon has finished 'negotiations' with people from the station, and the crew has been concocting their own ideas. 100707.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The AT's captors are beginning to suspect that their prizes are not from Kansas, meanwhile Corizon speaks. Throw him a bone! 093007.txt

MISSION BRIEF: The Excalibur has found herself in a most unusual place, where a space-dock style space station orbits Bajor. The crew is confused to say the least. 082607.txt

I use the Fox. However for those of you in-need of IE, there's a (very) handy extension called "View in IE Tab" :)

Well there's a number of different wiki-softwares out there for use, and it's mostly dependent on what your needs are, for something like this, we wouldn't need MediaWiki (which is what Wiki itself runs on).

Just from experience, at Excalweb, Tachyon and I have worked on an Excalwiki and I can tell you its a lot of work getting enough of a basis set up to go live with it. And some point, when I have more time to work on it, it may go live with an update of Excaliweb.

The weary commanding officer of the Excalibur collapsed into a heap upon a couch in his quarters. For a few moments he just lied there taking deep breaths and wishing for something large to hit him on the head and knock him out—nothing came. After a while he finally sat up, placing his hands to his face and pushing them forward through his hair until he reached his ears which he scratched at momentarily before bringing his hands back to his face and feeling the growing facial that was a result of poor personal grooming over the last few days. Somehow a clean shave had seemed somewhat insignificant compared to defeating the Scorpiads and now being lost in an alternate universe. Was it just him, or was it always something? For once he wished which ever deity that was amusing itself with his life would simply let him breathe for a few moments before throwing something else at him to fix. What was it he had told Kennin months ago on the Morningstar? “Welcome to Starfleet...” Something like that. Kennin's name brought a rather unpleasant memory to the forefront and he suppressed it as quickly as possible; he preferred not to think about officers lost under his command when things were looking so bright and cheery. He knew the crew's morale had to be shot. Just when they thought they'd finally gotten home...they found themselves even further than when they'd started. He didn't care what Buckaroo said...no matter where they went, they didn't seem to be where they were supposed to be. Pushing himself up off the couch he made his way across the darkened room a cabinet along the floor to sealing curved windows. The Bajoran star had tucked behind the moon they were hiding from and only edges of light shown through as Excalibur sat on the dark side of the moon. “Computer begin playback of music file Corizon Theta 12,” he said softly as he reached for a wine flute and bottle from the cabinet. The computer chirped and the low soft sounds of a musical recording began playing in the background. The bottles cork had already been removed and Corizon removed the stopper which had taken its place and poured a glass.

Enjoy!

Mission Brief: Having affected essential repairs to the ship, the Excalibur crew is inline to enter the wormhole and head to Deep Space Nine where they will hopefully begin refitting the ship, though a rumors have begin circulating that the ship may be decommissioned. chatlog2007_08_19.txt

Hey there! Alwats good to run into someone from her glorious past, get a hold of me on IM :)

For I have eaten ashes like bread, and mingled my drink with weeping. -Psalms 102:9 The hulking wreckage graveyard of ships from the Battle of the Wormhole floated ghostly silent about the wounded Excalibur-B. The lights had finally stopped flickering as auxiliary power had finally be restored, but the ship still felt like a sarcophagus. Ah-Windu Corizon shifted a piece of wreckage off the ready room desk and sat down in the scorched chair behind the desk with a heavy sigh. They'd won the battle, but at what cost? And how long could they hold the wormhole before the Scorpiads regrouped? His head wrapped around that and many other questions for a few moments before revolting in protest. It wasn't his problem at the moment, and he had more important things to worry about. For the moment, he was commanding officer of the Excalibur, and his role was to get her and her crew to safe port at DS9 as soon as possible. It had now fallen to other, higher-ranking officers to secure the gateway Alpha Quadrant, and in a way he was relieved by that. Now his task was to see to the repairs of the bruised Excalibur. Causality reports were still coming in, and the normally stoic Daemon had a sinking feeling he was not going to have a short list of letters to write to families back home, the bridge alone showed him that much, and a visit down to the triage center in the main shuttle bay had only confirmed his suspicions. That was the hardest part—visiting the dead and dying—trying to give them some sort of comfort in their last hours. War had taken it's toll on the Excalibur, physically and spiritually. The once proud ship had the queasy feel of a morgue at times. So many good people had lost their life fighting aboard her over the last few years, and even more today. A thought tinged with regret and angst entered his head and he suppressed it, but not as quickly as he would have liked. The war had taken its toll, even on him. There was a price to be paid, he reasoned, and everyone under his command knew that they would be asked to pay the piper at some point. As the Excalibur had floated aimlessly in space in the final furious moments of the fight, he'd been ready to cash in his chips and leave the floor—but fate had intervened, and his time would come later. Shuffling through the desk he found what he was looking for and placed it and two glasses on the desk. Uncorking the bottle he poured two glasses of golden-amber liquid and replaced the bottle stop before putting it down with a gentle thud. Taking one of the glasses in hand, he raised it slightly examining it slowly before tapping it against the glass counter top and the second full glass. “To the Fallen, I mix my drink with weeping,” he said downing the glass in a swift gulp.

::Snerk:: I was waiting for a specific type of quote, given today is Caturday... However...I'll give Kitty the nod :)

As the Battle of the Wormhole ragged on and his forces fell back to regroup, Corizon's mind wandered from the present. For a moment, the entire world seemed to slow and turn backwards. He found himself no longer on the bridge of the Excalibur, but instead in a darkened cemetery on Cardassia Prime, walking alone in the still darkness of midnight. The scent of fresh earth filled his nostrils and his golden eyes glittered in the moonlight, as looked on at the new graves dug in the soil. Some of them didn't even have head stones or markers yet, but they were still the remains of loyal soldiers—of both sides. It was hard to believe that just a few weeks before, the men buried side by side in the coffins and holes in the ground were fighting each other to death in brutal combat, but now they rest in peace and tranquility. In a way, he felt they were doing a disrespect to the fallen to bury them on Cardassia instead of proper space burials, or sending the remains home, but he didn't make those sort of choices, he just followed them. Above all though, he was thankful he'd not been buried alongside the fallen in a shallow grave on a world that had caused so much suffering, so much death. As he slowly found himself back in the present, he began to realize how real of a possibility his death could now be, and his mind wandered yet again, this time to a conversation with Captain Halloway just before they went into battle. After everything he and Halloway had been through during the Dominion War, after all the pain and suffering they'd gone through to defeat the Dominion, it was now a very real possibility they would both die fighting for the Dominion. The universe it seemed was filled with irony. He found himself agreeing with Halloway now... “If I die, have them bury me on Cardassia...” he whispered lowly.

The doors slid open with the precision harmonic sound expected out of a Federation Starbase and Rear-Admiral Ah-Windu Corizon entered the room holding two PADDs in his left hand. Sitting around the round, glossy black table was an assortment of brass, and while Corizon was technically a member of that category of officer, he still never felt exactly as if were one of them. In any case, the collection of a Vice-Admiral, a four-star General and a Fleet Admiral sat waiting for him. A crystal carafe of water sat on the table along side empty glasses and a small bowl of exotic fruits. Lifting his eyes and ears, he made visual contact with each of his ‘guests.’ Vice-Admiral Haden Baumen sat closest to the door; he and Corizon went back many years and a familiar face was a welcome site. Smiling he moved onto the General. The hard features of the man reminded Corizon of jagged rock, and General Bra’ek Tacauma’s personality went right along with his visual. A simple nod was all that was required for the two men to properly acknowledge the other, and Corizon moved on to the final figure in the triumvirate that sat in the main conference room of Starbase 265—Fleet Admiral Alynna Nechayev, the woman was a living legend and her reputation more than preceded her. “Fleet Admiral,” Corizon addressed her directly, “Welcome to my humble Starbase.” Nechayev smiled slightly, nodding her head. “Thank you Admiral,” she said motioning to a seat. “Come sit, we have much to talk about.” Repressing an urge to remind the Fleet Admiral that it was his station, he nodded and took a seat opposite to them. “I assume we’re here to discuss the Agincourt situation?” “Partially,” Tacauma’s rough voice responded, looking towards Nechayev and Baumen before directing all three eyes towards Corizon. Lifting his right ear Corizon leaned back in his chair. “Well, that will be a welcome change.” Nechayev perked a brow, “How so?” “All I’ve gotten done since we found out she was missing was regurgitate the same facts over and over to what seems half the admiralty and three-fourths of the generals. You’d think we’d lost an entire fleet to the abyss.” “Well we are concerned with the welfare of all of crews,” Baumen interjected, his voice typically soft and silken. “You know that Ah-Windu.” “There weren’t this many calls and meetings when Voyager disappeared,” Corizon reminded him. “It’s not as if this is the first time we’ve lost a ship under mysterious circumstances.” Nechayev smiled. “You never change do you Ah-Windu?” “I try not to make it a habit, no.” Baumen shook his laughing lightly. “Sometimes...” “I know, I know,” Corizon said with a fangy grin. “But in all seriousness, why exactly has all of Starfleet taken up a sudden interest in this?” “Well we believe there is more at play here than meets the eyes,” Tacauma spoke up, sliding a red PADD across the table. “But we can talk more about that later.” “Of course,” Corizon nodded, taking the PADD. Keeping his head up, he skimmed over the information quickly before laying it back down on the table and making eye contact with his guests. “So what do you need me for?” Pursing her lips for a moment, Nechayev uncrossed her arms and looked towards Corizon for a few minutes before continuing. “The Admiralty and the Federation Council wants you to begin assembling a proposal…” “A proposal?” Corizon’s ear’s stood high on his head as he looked at the three higher ranking officers before him, was this so important that they couldn’t have simply sent him the orders via subspace communication? “That correct,” Baumen said. “We want you to submit a proposal to Fleet Command outlining your plan for a response to a possible invasion of the Federation.” Now he was starting to get worried. “An invasion of the Federation?” “Yes,” Nechayev quickly confirmed. “You’re the best person we have for planning for such a contingency…” “Now just a moment…” Tacauma held a hand to Corizon, and shook his head. “I am afraid, Admiral,” he said firmly, “that is all we can tell you.” “But how am I to plan for an invasion of the Federation if I don’t know who or what I am up against?” “Everything we can tell you is in that file,” Nechayev said, pointing a finger to the red PADD. Corizon sighed deeply, whishing he was still a member of ATAG. Although, he did still have a few contacts in that organization…he made a mental note and finally nodded to the three people sitting across from him. “Luckily for you,” he said, “I happen to have been working on such a plan for some time…” Baumen smiled, “Why do you think we asked you?” Snorting, Corizon continued speaking. “It will take me sometime to adapt the plan to the specifics in the file…” “You have one week Admiral.” Frowning again, Corizon hid his displeasure and nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.” “In the mean time,” Tacauma said, “I will be dispatching one of my people to aide you in this process, he’s been brought up to date on the specifics and I think you’ll find him most useful in crafting your proposal.” “Of course, sir.” “You said we’d discuss more on the Agincourt situation?” “Right…”

Yes it was! ::Still has those scars::

Personally, I'd have to say one of my favorite moments was feeding t'Rexan to the Squids. :)

::Snickers at the Cats, and wiggling his ears:: Anyway, as a note on unconventional but canon species. I played for a number of games on Arcadia as an Elasian (from Elaan of Troyius) and found it to be rather rewarding as I had pretty much free reign (thank you Moose et al) to develop both the character and species. Also, on Republic I played an Arzaban, which only got mention once on an obscure DS9 episode, and then as well I had the opportunity to develop a race and a character all at once. Someone brought up the Dameon earlier, and I suppose as their creator I should chime in. They were first dreamed up a while back when I was creating a character for Reaent back a few years ago, and began playing as Sheng-ji Marish. When I was developing a character for Excalibur I decided to make that character a Dameon as well because I had enjoyed playing the species. As for the Al-Ucard, another of my creations, Victria originally featured as a Guest Character in a Excalibur plot and eventually became a full crew member, and the species owes a lot to her player. I suppose my general thought it that its fun to play new species or species we don't know a lot about because it gives you a lot of freedom, but having done it several times myself, I would suggest novice players focus more on getting the mechanics of character development down before taking on an entire species.

Doctor StrangeMarx, Or How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb.

"Bob, I think there's another bird stuck in the windshield!"

I am somewhat disappointed that I am second!

The Main Battle Group heads towards the Battle at the Wormhole 071507.txt

Possibly my favorite comic strip, ever.

With much thanks to my co-author Brad aka Hayden The decks of the Cold Harbor were insanely quiet. Granted, given the seriousness of the situation looming before them, he couldn't blame anyone for wanting to sit back and relax before imminent destruction. It was such a pessimistic attitude to have, but it was all too true. Captain Hayden Spryer, in only his third year as commanding officer, had already circled the decks three times and found nothing but the occasional one-on-one conversation or people diligently working. He did have a good crew and he was proud of all of them, but knew that with the ensuing conflict lying ahead, many good people would meet unfortunate fates. Nearing midnight, the increasingly restless captain retired to his quarters. With sleep in his head, he somehow managed to find himself staring out into the stars and watching the other ships float by. So many ships, so many lives. He wondered how many were just as exhausted and unable to sleep. And, he sighed. The transporter deposited Corizon firmly on the decks of the Cold Harbor with the familiar whirl of his atoms being reconstructed. On some level, he'd always hated transporter technology, but he appreciated it's convenience too. Tucking a PADD and wrapped package under his left arm he nodded to the officer on duty. Cold Harbor's corridors stood much more silent than his own, which were filled with the clanking and shrills of repairs. It was an eerie silence, none the less he continued unperturbed towards his final destination. Clanging the top of the scotch bottle against the rim of his glass, Hayden smiled internally. The last drink? His mind lingered as he sipped it delicately. His eyes caressed the pictures on the table behind the couch. Those frames had been replaced so many times. Too many battles, too many skirmishes, too many times had he walked into his quarters to glass scattered wall to wall. Hayden replaced every frame, every time. Laura's smile still encouraged him when he was low or unsure how to handle a situation. Alex's smile, sparkling the only way a son's smile can, was light when it was dark. Hayden was always a sentimental man, but liked to think that it was more finding brilliance in the seemingly insignificant instead glorified emotion. Those days were gone now. All gone with the exception - the constant reminder - of the pictures gracing the decorum of his quarters. Flicking his ears at the sounds of the corridor, Corizon sighed to himself. It had been such a very long set of months. He longed for the days when all he had to worry about was the Spoonheads or the Pointy -ears. Things were so much more complicated than they used to be, back when he was young. Young. He smiled at that thought—he was never young was he? Arriving at his destination he took a deep breath and rang the chimes. Hayden was so engrossed in the enthralling taste of his alcohol he almost didn't hear the chime. It threw him for a second. He rubbed stressed and exhausted look off his face and picked up a PADD. If it was a senior staff member wanting some insight on a problem he wanted to look as if he was working on something. "Come in," he called out more nonchalantly than usual, but began pouring through his PADD. It was a to-do list. Number one, clean the bathroom. Number two, fix the replicator. He chuckled, no one would be any the wiser. Corizon took a few steps in, and waited patiently, trying hard to keep a straight face. “It occurs to me, that it is standard procedure to greet the commanding officer of a fleet when he comes aboard, or at least offer him a drink.” Looking up just slightly over the PADD, Hayden smirked. "It occurs to me that when someone, like me, gets a command that is customary to send him a bottle of wine, or at least a congratulations. Three years, Captain. We could just call this even." Standing, he moved over to his friend, "It's good to see you. In person, that is." The Dameon wore a fangy grin that had not appeared in some days. Like a rare bird or animal, or an alien that only was in the mood once every seven years, the smile seemed to be something truly special.”Perhaps,” he said grinning wider. “How about orders and bottle of Bloodwine the Governor K'Vorlag owed me?” "A real man never turns down a free drink, my friend, never." He motioned for the Captain to sit and returned to his seat on the couch, polishing off his amber-colored liquid in one ever-burning swallow. There was an almost awkward silence for a moment. "How long have you served on the Excalibur in a command position now?" Corizon sat down, placing the Bloodwine on the table along with the PADD. “Counting the time I nearly blew it up and we were on Morningstar? Nearly a year.” "And how many crew have you lost?" His smile faded starkly. Losing people wasn't something he talked about—ever. Of course when you'd been at it as long as he had, you really stopped counting. “Honestly,” Corizon said softly, “I don't know. I stopped counting a long time ago. Some where between the Academy and the Dominion War I gave up trying to remember.” Hayden nodded absently, suddenly drowning in the thoughts of his past, of the present, and his indeterminate future. Grabbing the bottle he quickly filled up the glasses and handed one to his long-time friend. "Seventy-three on the Cold Harbor since this damn situation started. Counting the abandonment of the Orion during the Maquis conflict and the Oasis during the Dominion War... I've lost a total of three hundred and six." Taking a glass in his hand, he knocked it back with scary precision—this was a man who knew what he was doing. “Well there's the entire population of a few planets, no doubt a few thousand Starfleet ground troops, and the crews of dozens of ships I sent into battle that never returned home. Somewhere along the way I stopped being able to keep track of them all.” “And none of that,” he said filling his own glass again, “counts what's going to happen tomorrow.” He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Corizon. It's been weighing on my mind and heart lately. Don't know why, but it has." He took the last sip of his first glass, having nursed it a little more than his counterpart. Filling it once again, he leaned back into the cushion, smiling as he sipped. "So, you know what the assessments are, what kind of losses are we lookin' at? I'd bet money on sixty percent of the fleet. Less than five percent of that rescued in escape pods. And, my guess is that we'll owe a crap load to the Klingons, Romulans, and the Vorta." “Frankly,” Corizon tipped the glass back. “The assessments be damned. If I have to throw every last ship at the Scorpiads to stop them from getting that fleet through wormhole I will. As the Governor K'Vorlag is fond of reminding me...today is good day to die, but tomorrow is always better.” "A poet." Hayden said, smiling a little more. "You said something about orders. Tell me that you're ordering me and my crew to a month-long holiday on Risa or some reprieve from this hell hole of a quadrant. I even think, in the name of my ship's morale, that I may be willing to offer you a bribe." “When this is all over,” Corizon smiled, “You can get in line for the people I owe drinks to. “In the meantime,” he said pushing the PADD towards his old friend, “The Cold Harbor will be taking a flanking position along the outer positions of the fleet, you along with a handful of Birds of Prey and Dominion attack ships will be the eyes of the fleet. I want you too keep an eye out for any think they have coming at us. God only knows what those arachnid bastards have planned.” Captain Spryer acknowledged without much of a second glance. It was his usual role. His ship wasn't equipped to battle with the top ships in another's fleet. It wasn't built for reconnaissance, stealth penetration, or defense. No, the Cold Harbor was built to be extra muscle when it was needed. She was the standard 'little bit of everything' starship. Jack of all trades, master of none. "Understood. God, I hate talking about work. There should be a law that when you leave your post that any talk has to be about something non-work related." "Amen to that," Corizon took another drink of Bloodwine. "To bad the only thing I get done these days is plan ways for people to die." "That's war." "Whats that godforsaken French phrase..." "c'est la vie?” He laughed out loud. "Ah, the French. Remember our trip to Paris to visit the President's offices at the Academy? I think we took an oath between us to never bring up what morons the French are. Wasn't it a Frenchmen at Starfleet Command who said he wanted more proof before we went to war with the Dominion? One of the other Admirals said, 'Sir, the last time anyone French wanted 'more proof' it came marching into Paris under a Nazi Flag.' I wanted to shake that guy's hand." And, more laughing ensued. Corizon smirked. "Something like that," he said letting a fanged grin reappear, "though I am pretty sure we swore a similar oath about what happens on Risa..." "Stays on Risa!" He raised his glass, "I'll drink to that." Corizon raised his glass, "Then how did everyone in the dorms know what we'd done?" "I didn't say anything!" Flicking his ears in amusement, "Uhuh, sure!" "I could say the same thing about you. You were all proud of what we'd done, kept talking about how it would land us in the history books at the Academy. But, no, we took an oath. Yeah, right, you were all suckered into the fame and glory." Hayden finished off his second glass and went for a third. Corizon just shook his head. "That was a long time ago," he said as he worked on his fourth glass. "I was a different person then..." There was another moment of silence as they indulged in their wines. "So, Cor, when are you going to find someone to settle down with? You can't be an officer forever." His eyes quickly moved to his ex-wife and his son, estranged for the better part of three years, and then back to his friend. "Life will pass you by." Corizon laughed. "Me settle down?" It was rhetorical. "I don't plan on it." "Nothing more fulfilling, let me tell you." "Duty is what makes my life complete," he said almost sternly. "Duty. Patria. Anything else tends to get in the way of that." And there it was. "Yeah, of course, I can see how losing fleets of ships and officers, and watching entire planets get decimated can make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside." "Occupational Hazard." His tone had grown almost cold. "Emotional displacement, man." His tone and eyes softened and he finished his drink. “Maybe some day I'll see it your way, find someone to love me, but not now. Hell, I am not taking bets I live past the next 72-hours.” It was as if someone had dropped a bomb on the conversation. Suddenly the seriousness of the dialog melted away. The idea that the interaction they were sharing was the last hit him hard. He swallowed the last mouthful of the bloodwine and placed the glass on the table. "I'm sorry, man. These last couple of weeks have not been a walk in the park. Perhaps the stress is gettin' to me." Corizon put a firm hand on his friends shoulder and squeezed softly. "They've not been easy for any of us." "Thanks for the wine." "Anytime," Corizon paused for a moment, letting the silence permeate them for both for a time before he spoke again. "Have I ever read you the Dameon battle prayer?" "No, I can't say that you have." "We march boldly into the face of death. Bravely facing eternity. Courage, lift our wings. And in our last, let us heave together, in valiant glory. Proud to die, for we have served well and died in battle. Glory to the honored dead. Glory to us who fight together. May we die in battle, charging together in valiant glory. " A slight grin tugged at his mouth she he stared up into Corizon's eyes. "You know, that wouldn't be half bad if it didn't end in death." He chuckled a little bit, "I'm hoping to not add many to my The Dameon's golden eyes hardened in determination, but there was still a softness to them as he placed his hand once more on his friends shoulder. “May we die in battle, together, charging together in valiant glory, old friend...with a bottle of bloodwine in hand.” Hayden poured himself another drink, "I'll drink to that."

I don't think the Founding Fathers would disapprove of government intervention, they were pretty progressive. Not to mention the fact that they sort embedded the idea of improve government instead of keeping it the same way in the constitution itself. Private community-based help is nice, but you forget that it utterly failed to support the people in a meaningful way.

Which goes under the "we they do which doesn't work," none of which actually has anything to with their environmental policies. The core issue is that Americans are too ethno-centric :D