Third Annual BF betleH Tournament

Third Annual BF betleH Tournament (http://www.betleh.com/cgi-bin/b3/YaBB.pl)

Opening Day - Arrival >> Afternoon >> The Blue Room
(Message started by: Falco_Tauvits on Feb 8^th, 2005, 9:32pm)

Title: The Blue Room
Post by Falco_Tauvits on Feb 8^th, 2005, 9:32pm

ON:

"Three bags?" The security NCO checking up on new arrivals for the tournament looked over at the luggage of the blue-skinned man evaluatingly. He didn't LOOK like the sort of individual he'd expect to come to this tournament. He looked more like the traders and hard-bitten civilians that came to the station rather than fitting in with the hordes of Starfleet officer - and Klingons, never to forget the Klingons - who were coming for the games.

"Well, a bag and two cases," Tauvits offered helpfully. "Best way to transport a betleH if you don't intend to use it. Oh, you fellows will be wanting this, won't you..." He pulled a phaser of a civilian make that left it more reminiscent of the weapons of a hundred years past than standard Starfleet issue phasers from out of a shoulder holster that left it hidden beneath his jacket and passed it across the desk to the NCO, smiling helpfully.

"Uh... yeah." The NCO nodded to the cases, and Tauvits obligingly lifted them up to the desk. "If this one's the bat'leth..." he flicked the case open to confirm that it was, indeed, the Klingon blade, "then what's the other?" He shifted the still-open case to one side to look at the other, significantly smaller one.

"Rapier. In case of weapon displays. And be careful with both of them, they were gifts." Tauvits' voice took on a warning note.

"No disrespect intended, Mister Tauvits, but you're going to be smashing them against other weapons over the next few days. I doubt a scan and rudimentary inspection will hurt them," the NCO offered lightly.

Tauvits gave him a thin smile, finding the address of 'Mister' to still be novel to him. Even on Jaressi, his status as the master of the Theseus had won him a 'captain' title. "Just making sure. Can't hurt to verify."

"Indeed." The NCO seemed thoroughly bored as he finished the inspection and found nothing illegal about the half-Andorian's person. Tauvits didn't have the heart to tell him that he was almost guaranteed action with the Klingons incoming throughout the hours. And rowdy Starfleet officers. And random civilians here to make money out of the tournament.

Once he was waved through security, he badgered other officers for the location of his quarters, pestering one quartermaster until he gave him a room there and then just to send him away. The man had scampered away from the irate civilian before Tauvits could think to ask him the name of his assigned roommate. The shared quarters had been perfectly acceptable the year before, though he was faintly pleased to enjoy the opportunity of a little Federation luxury this time. He was quite used to the Theseus, but just making the most of Starfleet amenities for probably the last time in a while wouldn't come amiss.

So he found his quarters without much hassle, discovering them to be empty and without any signs of other life - let alone any features which might hint at the identity of his bunkmate this year. Tauvits decided to make the most of a bad situation, claiming the top bunk in an almost childish fashion with his shapeless bag of clothing tossed to the foot of the bed, and moved to the nearby console to do his level best to familiarise himself with the important locations on board.

Namely, the tournament area, and the entertainment area. Drinking and fighting was the name of the game, and Tauvits intended to meet both fronts. Until his mysterious roommate arrived, that was.

OFF:

Title: Re: The Blue Room
Post by Dan on Feb 9^th, 2005, 12:46pm

ON

<<Civilian Areas – XFY>>

Dan strode through the corridors of XFY more than a
little worse for wear; he’d managed to get himself
embroiled in a drinking match with several Klingons.
Before he could extricate himself from the proceedings

Dan began to realise he’d consumed far too much
bloodwine, he’d gone from drinking bloodwine once a
week to drinking a weeks supply in the space of a few
hours.

He decided it was time to go find somewhere to bed
down for a little while, he remembered K’Hare
organising VIP quarters for him. Looking around he
tried to gauged the best route to a turbo-lift,
typically for a drunk guy Dan took the wrong route. It
didn’t take long for him to
realise he was lost, slowly after looking left and
right a few times Dan realised he was really lost. He
didn’t admit defeat and call for help he decided to
keep on going and see how long it would take him to
find his
way back to civilisation.For twenty minutes he walked
around the deck, never realising he was walking in a
big circle going past the same point every few
minutes.
Turning a corner he bumped in to someone with such
force that he ended up sprawled on the floor in a most
degrading position, as he clambered back to his feet
Dan found himself nearly face to with a blue skinned
human.

Tauvits had been on his way to the bar, ideally to
find a lot of whiskey and somebody he knew. He hadn't
expected to be accosted by some drunkard in the
corridor, and merely gave the man stinking of
bloodwine a terse nod, and was about to move on before
he heard his name and... rank?

“Admiral Tauvits” he beamed drunkenly “I’ve heard some
nasty rumours about you!” Dan waved his arms
exaggeratedly “Going after those Klingons all by
yourself that was a little silly now wasn’t it.”

Tauvits blinked at the man, trying to work out just
who the hell he was. There was nothing about him which
was particularly noteable. He seemed about his own
age, in civilian dress as well... perhaps one of
Doyle's lackeys here to keep an eye on him who'd been
rather distracted by alcohol. But the address by
rank... was it meant to be a present rank, or just
some derisive reference to the authority he had held
before his court martial?

"Silly? It worked," Tauvits said curtly, dismissively,
moving to walk off.

If Dan had been sober he may have realised that
Tauvits wasn’t smiling back at him, really he should
have stopped speaking and moved away very quickly it
would have been the wisest thing to do. Unfortunately
the drunk are seldom wise, Dan continued his loud
mouthed rant “And losing your crew too, always a bad
experience!”

Tauvits came to a halt at last, his back to the
drunkard by now, and he took a deep, calming breath.
"A bad experience." He turned around to face the
insulting alcoholic. "That might be a way to describe
it. Now will you kindly bugger off and go drown
yourself in the nearest vat of bloodwine? Or were you
just fished out of it, because you stink like you
have, you darn drunk. Go collapse somewhere in a pile
of your own vomit."

“Still” Dan went on, a little oblivious, “I suppose
now that you’ve fallen to the level of the pirates you
killed your really honouring their memory right!” he
clapped Tauvits on the arm. “I mean your nearly a
pirate yourself now, you and that Theee.. thee… you
and that ship are floating around in pirate space
doing odd jobs.” Dan rocked back on his heels as he
fought to keep balance “We all know odd jobs is just a
euphemism for being a pirate and smuggler.”

The balance was rather rapidly lost as Tauvits' fist
swung out to strike the drunkard solidly on the nose.
He hadn't quite intended to hit so hard; just a blow
which would knock the man off his feet so he'd shut up
and leave him alone, but the anger at the verbal blows
striking close to home prompted his swing to be
heavier than planned.

"Will you shut up?" Tauvits snapped, standing over the
man as he knocked him to the floor. "Just who the hell
ARE you, anyway, claiming to know all of this about
me?"

Dan pulled his hand away from his now bloody nose; the
front of his
shirt was covered in red patches. The shock of being
punched like that
cut through his brain like a knife, he came to his
senses enough to
speak to Tauvits “I’m Rear Admiral Taylor, Task Force
Commanding
officer
of Task Force 86!” he said coming off sounding much
more snobbish than
he ever had been before in his life “If you can’t take
a darn joke
don’t
take it out on me”

Once upon a time, Tauvits might have been rather
aghast at the notion of striking a flag officer so.
But right then, he was in no mood for deference to
rank - a rank he, officially, was not truly bound to
hold in any regard. Only habit made him falter a
little, and stopped him from not continuing any
attack.

Instead, he leaned down to haul the man back to his
feet, still decidedly unamused. "A TFCO? Then act like
one, instead of like some drunk who can't even tie his
own shoe-laces. A little pride about you might be
necessary, man!" Tauvits shook his head, stepping away
from Taylor dismissively.

"As for a 'joke'... the best comedians will tell you
to choose your subjects and your audience. You, SIR,
have chosen a topic that holds precious little humour.
Unless you consider the death of one of the finest
crews to serve in Starfleet, the justice brought down
on the heads of their murderers, and the careers
ruined as a result of these events to be amusing. And,
ADMIRAL, if you do, I shall happily give you another
whallop." Tauvits' hand curled into a fist
instinctively as he glared, still trying to remain
calm.

Perhaps, Taylor thought to himself, now would be a
good time to end his
vacation from his rank and all it entailed. He’d
enjoyed himself far
too
much already, the effect of the bloodwine had
certainly proved that,
never before had he made such a stupid remark. Well
the thought to
himself there was the one time he described his best
friend’s girl as a
hoo-. He cut his thoughts off and tried to compose
himself a little,
something that was very hard to do in his present
state. 20 years ago
as
a fighter pilot he would have gotten himself in to
this kind of trouble
every time he had the slightest bit of down time.

Tauvits was right he thought to himself, as much as he
wanted to
recapture his youth now wasn’t the time or the place
to be doing it.
Now
was the time to be proving to the other members of the
Fourth Fleet who
he was, a small voice in Dan’s head made a comment to
him “How can you
show them who you are if you don’t know yourself?”

“Shut up you” he said to the voice in his head not
realising he said it
out loud right in to Tauvits’ face.

This brought another, solid shove from the
blue-skinned man that sent alcohol-soaked legs out
from under Taylor, sending him to land heavily on the
floor again with a thump.

"You, sir, are darn well drunk," Tauvits stated,
rather haughtily in a surprising contrast with the
anger of his body language. "And perhaps you should
allow one of your aides to find you and take care of
you, before you create a further embarrassment for
yourself and Starfleet. Drunken Admirals marauding
civilians never looks good in the media, in my
experience. And that's personal experience, too."
Tauvits nodded sagely, then turned to walk off.

OFF

JP By

Tauvits
&
Dan

Edit note: Looks like Dan accidentally pasted this in twice, I removed one ;) - Jord/Valren Arelwynn