Akallabeth

Heh, quick game for me . Best of luck to all remaining players! -Doug Matthews, Deceased

Happy Birthday!

Doug leans against one of the sets thinking over the conversation he's heard. So many accusations floating around. . . there's that actress, what's her name, ah, Debra. Certainly a stereotypical young actress, it would be easy enough for some rival to put her into the show. Glancing over to the left, he saw a man looking at him, off on his own, much like Doug. But that guy was always off on his own . . . a cameraman, wasn't he? Some well trained cameraman on a show like this? What sort of person would willingly come to this sort of job? A show on it's last leg, or so it seemed. Yes, it might be saved but only if they managed to get a good audience watching. And camera work wasn't that important on this type of thing. Hmph, maybe if we lost Zeke, that could increase the prop and special effects budget, while also leaving plenty to get a cameraman more fit to this sort of job. Not someone who should be out filming movies, and other shows where camerawork is more important. . . With these thoughts in mind, he walked off to the directors office with the suggestion in mind. (Deggy / Ezekiel "Zeke" Thompson)

Disagreement on one of those: Peeing on an electric fence will not shock you, unless you are *extremely* close to it, or unless it is running a lethal amound of current through it. Trust me, I know this.

I'd really like to second that. I do not have experience in any sort of martial art or schooling of that type, so I will leave that to more knowledgeable persons. But for college, there are several simple things to do which will let you do fine. (and if you're like me, the only hard thing about them is convincing yourself to follow through with them) -Get to ALL classes on time, preferably five minutes ahead or so, to give you a buffer time. Very bad things can happen if you miss class. Also, be sure to at least try to pay attention and try to take notes in class. In that light . . . -Get plenty of sleep and wake up on time. I don't really think it matters when so much as that it is fairly regular and enough to get a concious you through your classes and homework. -Do all homework and study for tests. Regular studying (not for any certain reason other than refreshing you memory) is good, or so I have been told. Like I said, probably the hardest thing about all these things is just getting yourself to follow through on them. I know I'm still working on it . . . :/

Doug came back into the studio, carrying an odd looking mass of parts that had two hoses coming out from it and a heavy metal loop on each end. Returning to his door, he saw evidence of others having been frustrated by it, as could be seen by the switch's hanging from a hole in the wall, instead of fastened in place. With a slight smile, he used his pocketknife to cut a hole in the back side of the set, and took a couple of chunks of angle iron out of his pocket. Grabbing his trusty hammer, he nailed them in place on one of the stronger supports between the inside and outside of the ship's setpiece. Cutting a larger hole in the back of the set, he stuck the contraption into position, sticking a bolt through each end to hold the cylinder in place. Now to just get that little motor fixed, improved, and put in place. . . .

Happy B-day HappyBuddha! Hope you have a good one!

Doug came out from inside the spacecraft. Whoever had designed and built this in the first place had absolutely no idea of how a set should be built, much less how a spacecraft ought to be built. Cardboard and light plywood. . . what were they thinking? Steel. Steel is the only way. Satisfied with the new door, Doug tried the electronic motor that was supposed to make the blast door move. Something inside the wall popped and fizzled, and an area of the cardboard turned dark. Quickly Doug turned off the switch. Of course they wouldn't have put in a good motor. . . after all, they'd only put in a little flimsy door weighing only 5 or 10 pounds. Nothing comparted to what a blast door should be. Even his new steel door wasn't up to par, as it only weighed in at about 250. Of course a real one would weigh more. Until then, he should start on fixing that motor. Maybe replace it. He'd noticed some parts he might be able to use to make a hydraulic cylinder or two in an alley out back. If nothing else, the actors could move it on their own. As he headed off, plans spun through his head, and ideas began to form for new improvements that could be made. Get some more wood and cardboard off the set and some more nice, strong steel on. . .

Little add on for my character. Doug also is a big Paul McCartney fan. In fact, he plays the 12 string bass in his free time. Often he even keeps this at the studio.

Great game! Enjoyed being able to have a spacecraft of my own , too bad it's not real. Oh well... and by the way Deg, I've got an equality for you sick person ≠ horrible person

Purple Finch - a type of bird (don't really know much else about it ^^) Catgut- is, or at least was, used for stitching wounds or surgical cuts back together

Congratulations!

Happy Happy Birthday to Ye!

Happy Birthdays to both of you! (Hopes that Zadown's computer gnomes aren't causing him and Sweetcherrie too much trouble )

Doug Matthews is a stage carpenter/handyman. He can fix anything, wether or not it needs it; and can build anything, though "heavy" is merely an abstract term to him. I'll find out more about him as we go along.

Oooh Oooh yeah! "Beam me up, Scotty."

Congratulations to all those promoted! And thanks for the language lessons!

I'll try and listen in. I don't know how to record streams, though if I find out between now and then I will record it if possible. Can't wait for Thursday!

Captain went down with his ship .

Zarek sits in the back of one of the boring lecture classes, with a growing headache from the professer's droning and . . . something else. Try as he might, he cannot shake the thought that he is responsible for Rukmini's death. He sighs, while trying not to give off any other visible sign of his pain and thoughts. As the class ends, he walks out, and heads over to the hanger, to clean down his ship. Taking out some of the cleaning fluid, he goes over the entire surface. First washing down the front viewport, he then proceeds to cleaning off the laser heads, and then around the ion engine exhaust, using a stronger cleaner to tke off some of the baked on crud. Taking care of the wings next, he powers up the craft, actuating the wing sets, so that he might better clean the areas between where the wings join. Several hours later, a sweaty Zarek stands up. One side down. Starting over to the other side and it's two wings, he sees Klen walk by in the hall. The Bothan appears to still be gloating over his killing Rukmini, though she was evidently the most talented amongst them. Why that arrogent, inhuman nerfherder! It was not even as if he had made a particularly magnificent kill. The simplest droid could be made to fire a blaster at the opening of a door! Snarling, he throws the cleaning pad he is using down and yet again nearly takes off after the creature with his most cared for, and yet unused, hydrospanner. Yet again, he stops himself before he has gone far. This is not yet the time. He feels this in the Force. The aliens will have their time eventually. Turning back, and with his headache still not abated, he looks over the craft. Half clean, the one side nearly glows a dark grey. The other side is far more dull, and will certainly appear better once he has it cleaned. The ends of the wings come at him, pointed and deadly, with the stinging lasers on the very tips. The semi-pointed cockpit stared at him, dully glowing with a red light from the instruments on inside. The actuating portions of the wings slanted inwards, continuing the slope of the main wings up to just outside the width of the cockpit. 'She is certainly beautiful,' he thought. With a slight start, he realized that his craft had never actually been named. She needed a beautiful name, a worthy name. A dangerous name. He laughed coldly. He knew her name, the name of his quick and beautiful fighter, nearly quick enough to be more than one place at once. Rukmini. Klen would never forget this, and Zarek was more than happy to make sure he never had the chance. Rukmini she would be. Zarek went to the uncleaned side, his headache lessening. A couple of hours later, it glowed as darkly as the other side. 'Certainly Rukmini is the perfect Sith fighter,' Zarek thought. Just after he had finished disposing of the cleaner, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye over by Rukmini. Reaching out with the Force, he felt Fxz'et moving away from his craft, satisfied about something, and on Rukmini . . . another space rat! Grasping it with the force, he held the mynock tightly before it managed to do any damage to his girl. Slowly pulling the sucker mouthed thing away from her, he then took the revolting, leathery thing to the back of the craft, bound it tightly in some chord, and placed it in the ion exhaust. Positively boiling over with glee and revenge, he suited up, and took his seat in the craft's cockpit. With intense pleasure, he powered up, feeling the terrified mammal's alarm. Just as Fxz'et came back in to pick up his sucker faced friend, Zarek goosed the engines, shooting the charred remains of the mynock out the back and across the hanger. As he sped away with Rukmini, Zarek felt deep contentment come over him, and was glad to not be alone. Together, he and his Rukmini spent much of the remainder of the night cruising over the wastelands of Korriban.

The Sith fighter comes quickly into the hanger, and just as suddenly slows down, before coming to a gentle rest on the hanger floor. Hopping out, he sees that there are several students talking amongst themselves. He feels fear in the air, and eats in up voraciously, not particularly paying attention to what sort of fear it is. Obviously they are respecting his incredible piloting skills, and are in fear of his little lady (starfighter, that is). Strutting over, he takes off his helmet, only to finally notice that they are not paying attention to him. Before going into a fit of rage over this lack of respect, he listens, and feels with the force. While they certainly are fearing for their lives, he is not the object of their fear. A Jedi amongst the students? Mira dead? This mildly shocks Zarek. After all, with all the rumors that floating around about what she did to Rukmini, why wouldn't Rukmini kill her? That Mira was incompetent enough to let here Rukmini get close enough to kill her was the only suprise. (OOC: I accuse Sweetcherrie/Rukmini)

Heh I remember a conversation in IRC related to this. . . Excellent piece Sweetcherrie, and the gnomes also remind me of house elves in Harry Potter too!

When Zarek hears the news of Palu's killing of Jethray, it did not suprise him one bit. Of course there would be many glory hounds trying to gain the attention of the leaders of the school . . . too bad he hadn't knocked off one of the non-humans instead. . . Bah! Their time would come. The hairball, the insect, and squiddy would get their turns eventually. Zarek would see to that. As he walks through the halls, back to his ship (he checks it at least two to three times a day since the incident with the bug and his space rat) he sees Rukmini going through the halls, apparently set on a quest of some sort. He senses a tremendous wave of emotion washing out from her. It nearly forms words in his mind . . Love me, Love me as she passes by, apparently set on some other . . . Reaver, perhaps? She certainly looks good, though Zarek doesn't know if it's any more than just looks. She seems merely skin deep to him, trying to win over any man she can. If so, she is certainly not his type anyway. Continuing to the bay, he decides it's a nice day for a flight. Going over to his locker, he feels inside first, before opening it, to check that his gear has not been tampered with. He pulls it out and suits up, then grabs a couple of tanks of air, and does a quick check on his craft. Getting inside, he powers up, running a systems check. Twin ion engines green, both lasers green -- you never knew when an enemy might set an ambush -- and all other systems satisfactory. As others get clear, he fires up the engines, and they reward him with a heavenly scream. Goosing the power, he jumps out from the hanger, and goes skimming above the planet of Korriban. Luxuriating in the feeling of flight, he feels far more home than he ever has on the ground.

Happy Birthday !

Zarek came away from his classes in an awful mood. Who wouldn't be thinking evil thoughts after listening to those instructors for hours at a time? Angrily he moved on to the hanger, to do his (at least) daily check of his craft. He knew that it made him an object of jealously, since he was one of but a few students with their own spaceworthy craft, and one of an even smaller number with hyperspace capable ships. Not to mention that it was a fighter . . . This made him smile. Ah, he remembered like it was yesterday the day that he stole this ship from the CorSec pools. Back then he had just removed his parents from this plane of existance, a refreshing change. Unfortunately, this made him a wanted man, and he knew he would never escape if he didn't get off Corellia soon. Even his growing powers as a student of the dark side would not do much good against Corellian Security if he didn't get away soon. Through a strange series of events, which he knew must have been guided by the force, he got inside the ship pool, and managed to find this grey modified Sith fighter amongst the many green and white vessels. Obviously it had been a captured craft, probably an officer's, since it had been modified to carry a hyperdrive. Eluding pursuit from the planet hadn't been too hard, as there was little that could match up with this little girl. Since finding this little demon of his, he had not placed anything above caring for her. And when he decided to leave this place, he'd need her. All the more reason to care for her. As he came into the hanger, he saw that the Verpine, Fxz'et, was just leaving, and it looked like he had been by his ship. And. . . what was that he was carrying? A Mynock!?! The filthy bug! Blinded by rage, and with the Force coursing through him in a great flood, he ran at Fxz'et, and stopped only when he saw that the insect had noticed his approach. "Don't you get near my ship again, you piece of dung! And keep your space rat away from it too!" Zarek yelled. (OOC - Vote for Fxz'et/Kasmandre. I don't like people hurting my ship.) EDIT- Ship anachronism, slight additions)