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Thread: Judgement Day

  1. #1
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    Default Judgement Day

    H’athoria Space Station


    K’adaq was a low life, a compulsive gambler, h’athoria stations unofficial rumor mill administrator, a drunk, an occasional coward and a sadistict deviant when it came to the more personal expressions of affection. It was an open secret that the whore houses on the planet had banished him from their "fine establishments" and that kind of reputation was hard to accomplish, especially on a frontier world. Such behavior most often resulted in the death of the offending petaq. Which was probably why he kept to the Starbase and the confort and security it provided.

    He might not be the warrior that his father wanted him to be, or the man of honor his mother had instisted on. No he was of more practical nature, smart and calculating, he knew dirt on every officer, every customs official, every criminal on and off station – all of which allowed him to know where and what was happening. He was an information dealer, a middleman. He kept his nose clean from the usual things that would attract the attention of those in charge ofupholding the law. For all intents and purposes he had a good gig here, low risk, high margin.

    However his good fortunes seemed to have departed him, he had been running for the past half an hour, in a desperate attempt to evade station security who had honed into him at the worst possible moment.

    Ignoring the pain, the labored breathing that was his own, he kept running thru the corridors trying to lose the heat….without success.

    Finally 15 decks lower, and an unknown amount of jumps, bruises and curses later he was trapped. He was in a large cargo storage unit, and there was no way out. As he hid behind a row of barrels of ale he considered his present situation.
    All of his troubles had started with that wreched new security chief. A deep voice, rumbling and echoing in the chamber interpupted his train of thought.
    “K’adaq!” it echoed. “We know you are here. Come out petaq, and we might spare your life!”

    K’adaq cursed, he had hoped until the last moment that it was not him, that it wasn’t the chief itself. Others could be bought off, others had secrets to keep, others were corruptible

    The security chief along with several of his warriors were slowly combing thought the maze of the cargo hold. Tightening the noose around his hiding spot. K’adaq saw Q’urn as he approached, watched and steadied his blade, and the shaking hand that was holding it.

    “Give up K’adaq,” the security chief yelled. “You are surrounded.”

    Q’urn, son of tarath , tall and in full swing of his youth seemed like an unlikely choice of chief of security onboard the H’athoria station. His young appearance was in stark contrast to his pockmarked face, full of scars indicating a long and hard past, full of battle and glory. And of course there were the knowing eyes, blue and piercing, and in this instant searching for K’adaq.

    In the silence that was overwhelming, K’adaq feared his beating heart would betray him, that Q’urn would hear its furious pounding. It was now or never, the fugitive thought desperately. He pushed the barrels infront of him towards Q’urn who turned only in the last moment to see a wall of ale closing in on him.

    A deafening thunder, followed by the shattering of the planks and the fizz of the ale overpowered for a second the cargo hold. It was followed by the screech of metal and flesh as Ka’daq dispatched first , then the second warrior tasked with holding him. His sights had zeroed in on Q’urn but the security chief had already recovered his composure, wiped the ale from his eyes and drawn his da’tagh and was charging towards Ka’daq.

    What followed was furious and quick. This was Q’urns first fight but it was his last. A series of feigns and attacks, followed by blows turned K’adaqs face into a bloody fuazy pulp. Clarity was not accomplished until that same blade had severed K’adaqs larynx from the rest of his throat. It was only then that K’adaq realized that perhaps he should have taken the securities chief “buyout” offer when he had given it to him.

    As his life flowed out with rapid pace through his neck. K’adaq fell on his knees, his eyes locked with those of Q’urn who himself was bleeding but nowhere near at the rate of K’adaq or for that matter the severity of it. He had miscalculated, and now he was on his way to grethor, of that even K’adaq was certain.

    Q’urn waited for a second, not out of compassion but rather so his armor would not get dirtied by the gushing of the blood, which was ceasing in its vigor every moment. He looked at his remaining underlings and simply sidestepped the “corpse”.
    “Inform the station commander that we had a fatality” he said dispassionately. “ Q’urn announced. “I will be in my office. “
    Last edited by tapez; 08-29-2011 at 05:01 PM.
    Ta'pez, son of cheng,
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  2. #2
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    <a few days later>

    Q’urn did not like his work, in fact he hated it. The entire point of settling on h'atoria, a frontier world, was to live in a more natural settling as his joH was concerned that his house had grown week from its time in space. And so they had settled here. He knew many among his kinfolk who would have gladly traded their positions on the surface of the planet with his. Unfortunately they lacked the keen intellect and instinct that had propelled Q’urn into his role. From an early age he had a nose, a hunter’s instinct when it came to lies and deceit. He could tell when others were hiding things from him. With those kinds of qualifications it did not take long for him to rise in the ranks of the Security militia the governor had assembled. Others soon found out that he was just and fair as much could be, he was a lawman, a chutpolwI'.

    And so the needs of the house were greater than his preference for spending time on the planet. So he served on the station as a good son would. The income, influence and contacts he had acquired in his role as chutpolwI' on the station had been invaluable. It was for this reason, that he would schedule as often as his duty roster allowed trips to the planet side.

    The journey back to the house grounds would often take more than 12 hours, with several different transports. The house grounds were bordering the southern Polar Regions. The resources at hand were meager and so he would often barter goods and information he had brought from the station for things the house staff needed. The traders enjoyed and profited from his company as thugs and bandits stayed clear of merchant transports on which Q'urn travelled. The chutpolwI's reputation had spread even among them.

    He could have used the transporter for this, but like most Klingons Q’urn disliked using the infernal devices. Besides this travelling gave him an opportunity to wind down and leave worries of his duty behind him. He observed the landscape of the planet, beautiful, majestic and deadly. Rich in game and of fertile soil it made for a good living, but the storms and winter season would often kill those who underestimated h’atorias wild.

    Tarath, Q’urn and his kinfolk had been here for almost five years and several younger, inexperienced warriors of his house had not made it, now most of his kinfolk knew the ways of hunting and surviving well enough to escape the cruel faith of freezing to death.

    His father, Tarath had been adamant that all of the younglings, who had spent most of their lives in space, be able and capable of serving in the wild of h'atoria, there can you be certain that only the best retained their lives and their honor.
    Q’urn often wondered about his father, although he had spent more than 30 years by his side, sometimes his ways seemed inexplicable. He strived to understand and his father was a good teacher, but the cost of those lessons was at times breath taking. His father was the exception when it came to understanding and reading others. A mystery in its fullest.

    As he was walking now on foot the last few miles to the house he remembered last winter when his father almost died recovering the body of one of his young warriors who had frozen during the third hunt of the winter season.
    It was Tarath who had commanded Malek, the young warrior who had died, to join the hunt even though he was lacking in skill. And it was Tarath who had denied him the help of others, as custom demanded for the first hunt. The pain of losing Malek had been written all over his father’s face the night he brought the lifeless body of Malek. That was the burden of a lord caring for those in his house even in death.
    It was then that Q’urn realized the price that mantle carried. That night that made him decide never to seek the position his father now held. Life was hard enough without the responsibility that leadership of a house demanded. To die in the service of the house was one thing, to send others to their death’s was an entirely different affair. At least that was Q’urn thought process on that.

    The house grounds were located on a ridge; the walled compound was simple in shape, rectangular, with watch towers, hugging the mountainside. It seemed like a pre warp fortress back on the home world. Everything was functional and made with a single purpose: protection.
    Last edited by tapez; 09-06-2011 at 12:27 AM.
    Ta'pez, son of cheng,
    FUGITIVE

  3. #3
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    Later that evening


    The evening cold was piercing, at least so it seemed after spending two weeks on the station. It was always such a change, a welcome one for Q’urn. He had spent most of the day catching up to events among his house folk. Giving them small gifts of appreciation for their work, items he had sourced on the station or along the way.

    He chuckled as he walked up to his fathers quarters, it was one of those things that made sense, or perhaps it didn’t. He was always the last one he visited and yet he was the one person that he enjoyed talking to the most. The old warrior was full of insights and if it was not for the current situation he probably would conitnue to be a force to be recogned with. But the situation demanded for Tarath to limit his activities and so he did. In fact Q'urn doubted that his father had stepped out of the main building at all this year.

    He shook his head and continued up when his thoughts were interrupted by the cheer of adolescent laughter, that and his fathers booming voice. He was telling them a story again. He silenced his walk and stood infront of the entrance listening.
    Most of the younglings had gathered around the old Klingon were rapt in the story. It was one that Q’urn remembered well. Tarath, his father had been the one that had been telling him when he was 3-4 years old as well. In fact it was his favorite tale, The prince which and the ugly Hare.

    “ And he glanced up the Hare, and it was a beastly monster of the underworld,” His father was in the middle of his theatrics imitating the childhood monster of Q’urn. “It was fat, and had big long piercing ears. Just one glance at the beast and it would frighten even the fiercest warrior.”

    Q’urn leaned back and chuckled inside, he was going to look forward to this…


    tbc...
    Ta'pez, son of cheng,
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  4. #4
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    After the little one had gone to bed, Q'urn and his father sat down for their evening meal. They had developed this routine where for the most part Q'urn would tell him of the events that were going on while he was away. His father enjoyed the conversation and Q'urn found the advise always useful. Besides it eased his fathers isolation here on the planet. He was a warrior used to dealing with larger things in life then simply the running of the house and its daily affairs. It was not a traditional role but there were only a few females among their house and those were busy the needs or raising the younglings.

    "So how was your week?" Tarath asked. "You seemed tense."

    Q'urn did visibly react. His fathers observations were hard to misplace, he was an excellent reader of others.

    "I killed a criminial" Q'urn said and then elaborated. " Nobody of importance."

    Tarath did not say much, he was paying attention to his raht for the most part, which were still squirming on the plate in front of him.

    "You know I have no issue with killing." Q'urn said and indeed he had not, he had been an excellent hunter of both animals and klingons. "But I am unsure who his employers are. His activities seem to be sanctioned."

    Tarath nodded. "You think this will come back to haunt you."

    "It could raise my profile." Q'urn continued. "I am not sure that we want that attention to come back here."

    There was silence for a moment, as both warriors contemplated the situation. Tarath pushed back the place and leaned back. "Has anybody aproached you about it.?"


    " No but I am certain that will follow." Q'urn retorted.


    Tarath simply nodded. They had been very careful to position them so that their roles here on H'athoria did not bring them any undue attention. Their resources were meager and right now they didn't need any additional problems. Simply feeding the house required most of their attention.

    In a few years when there weren't quiet as many young lings among them, things would be different. But right now, things were precarious.
    Last edited by tapez; 09-18-2011 at 02:38 AM.
    Ta'pez, son of cheng,
    FUGITIVE

  5. #5
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    The following morning Q'urn woke up early. One of the younglings had already lit the fire in his room. The crackling of the wood from the fire place woke him. He was one of the few that actually was afforded single quaters. It was an honor afforded to few. although given the fact that the room also doubled as a study while he was away meant that perhaps "his" chambers were not all that special.

    He had talked to Tarath about raising another section of the main building so that they could at least build the outside structure and let the few folks that knew enough about woodworking do the rest during the winter inside.

    As his body woke Q'urn was already plotting the day. He had decided that he would take some of the younglings to the hunt today. He regularly participated in the daily hunt with his house mates when he was there. There were many mouths to feed and they needed to replenish the stores for the winder. One never knew how cold or long the frost would take hold of their region.
    Ta'pez, son of cheng,
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