5th Annual Stonewall Fleet Fall Festival
I was mostly wondering for those that placed second and third, they had great matches durring the competition.
As this drama unfolded, a drama of its own was unfolding on deck 32, from within Fleet Admiral @NicholasJohn16's dimly lit quarters, which were illuminated only by the occasional flicker of a pair of Ferengi earwax candles that he'd lit on his dining table for ambience. Reaching across the table and past an impressive spread of culinary delights, including Szechuan Targ, sauteed Ratamba stew, and a generous cut of snail steak, Admiral Nick clutched @Gravity's hand, holding it in a tender and loving embrace.
"I've waited for five years for the perfect moment to sneak you into my quarters" whispered Nick... "commanding officers can't be seen in the romantic company of... subordinates, you understand; you're ABSOLUTELY sure that your crazy and jealous boyfriend @Dax_aussie_boy didn't follow you here, right?", worried Nick, failing to notice the glow of the Omega alert that had filled his workstation screen.
As this drama unfolded, a drama of its own was unfolding on deck 32, from within Fleet Admiral @NicholasJohn16's dimly lit quarters, which were illuminated only by the occasional flicker of a pair of Ferengi earwax candles that he'd lit on his dining table for ambience. Reaching across the table and past an impressive spread of culinary delights, including Szechuan Targ, sauteed Ratamba stew, and a generous cut of snail steak, Admiral Nick clutched @Gravity's hand, holding it in a tender and loving embrace.
"I've waited for five years for the perfect moment to sneak you into my quarters" whispered Nick... "commanding officers can't be seen in the romantic company of... subordinates, you understand; you're ABSOLUTELY sure that your crazy and jealous boyfriend @Dax_aussie_boy didn't follow you here, right?", worried Nick, failing to notice the glow of the Omega alert that had filled his workstation screen.
From deeper within the ship, a soft chuckle resounded, too low for the rescuers to hear, resonating from something dark that lurked deep inside its lower decks. It sniffed the air and was instantly fully aware of every biological function of the rescuers - their heart beats, the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies - all these things it longed to caress, to pull from them, to rip from their souls, while listening to their screams of agony and dispair, and knowing that the agony would continue for days, weeks, even months, before it allowed them to expire in paroxysms of delicious terror.The soft echo of footfalls paraded through the room, at first almost unheard, and Zander knew once again that they were not alone. "Wh-what was that?" Zander exclaimed sheepishly as his heart began racing even harder. He looked around only to realize no one else seemed to hear anything. "Come on guys" Voleron said, "We still need to find Milmar! You know we'll never hear the end of it from the Klingons if any of the bloodwine goes missing."****The creature, a wisp of inky darkness, moved in the shadows towards the lighted figures, shifting from shadow to shadow, moving from wall, to ceiling, to conduit, into the ventilation and out again, but always moving, inexorably, towards the figures in the light. It could FEEL their essences as it grew closer, patiently waiting to touch them, to feel them, to absorb them, as its essence yearned to drain all that they are into itself, to consume them, and with a single touch, turn them into its food.
The lights began to flicker throughout the station as the entity made its way through the walls hitting relay after relay, panic set in as Voleron realized the air was getting thinner, as he saw a thin whisp of smog fill the halls.
“Nebular gas!” He shouted realizing the decks were slowly filling filling with a haze that scattered the light of his flashlight.
A dilemma occurred to the creature - it sensed two distinct sets of food, in two different directions, two distinct sets of warmth and life on which it wanted to feed - and solved it by watching the gas from the exterior of the ship permeate the structure, then proceeding to mimic the spreading gas by dividing itself into two entities - both with the same, inevitable goal of consuming the life of its targets. It parted ways with itself with an almost gleeful sound, as it proceeded in separate directions to hunt down its food, as it did before.
“Do you think the others are okay?” the cadet asked; which was not the correct answer to the most lethal nebula gases.
Th’val groaned and threw her PADD down, “If they weren’t, exactly what aid would you render them when you’re this close to dropping out, cadet? Quit daydreaming and focus, I cancelled all your other appointments this evening.”
“What, even my therapy session? I can’t help it sir, it’s this storm and the darkness; I keep imaging things crawling through the station, hunting people, multiplying like a virus-” The young Betazoid buried his face in his hands, hiding from the PADDs around them as Th’val rolled her eyes and moved onto reciting the next set of questions to the imaginative cadet.
From deeper within the ship, a soft chuckle resounded, too low for the rescuers to hear, resonating from something dark that lurked deep inside its lower decks. It sniffed the air and was instantly fully aware of every biological function of the rescuers - their heart beats, the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies - all these things it longed to caress, to pull from them, to rip from their souls, while listening to their screams of agony and dispair, and knowing that the agony would continue for days, weeks, even months, before it allowed them to expire in paroxysms of delicious terror.The soft echo of footfalls paraded through the room, at first almost unheard, and Zander knew once again that they were not alone. "Wh-what was that?" Zander exclaimed sheepishly as his heart began racing even harder. He looked around only to realize no one else seemed to hear anything. "Come on guys" Voleron said, "We still need to find Milmar! You know we'll never hear the end of it from the Klingons if any of the bloodwine goes missing."****The creature, a wisp of inky darkness, moved in the shadows towards the lighted figures, shifting from shadow to shadow, moving from wall, to ceiling, to conduit, into the ventilation and out again, but always moving, inexorably, towards the figures in the light. It could FEEL their essences as it grew closer, patiently waiting to touch them, to feel them, to absorb them, as its essence yearned to drain all that they are into itself, to consume them, and with a single touch, turn them into its food.
The bulkheads in the corridor outside rattled as Th’val and her cadet (whose name she never bothered to learn) sat on the floor of the biology lab surrounded by PADDs, patiently waiting for engineering to fix the power. “Sounds like someone’s knocking, I should go see who it is?” the cadet ventured, only to be greeted by Th’val’s glare at finding yet another excuse to procrastinate from the set assignment; “who knocks on an automatic door?” Th’val replied “It’s just engineering taking their merry time changing some lightbulbs, just concentrate on the question: name 20 photosensitive lifeforms capable of consuming most humanoids with a single touch.”
The lights began to flicker throughout the station as the entity made its way through the walls hitting relay after relay, panic set in as Voleron realized the air was getting thinner, as he saw a thin whisp of smog fill the halls.
“Nebular gas!” He shouted realizing the decks were slowly filling filling with a haze that scattered the light of his flashlight.
A dilemma occurred to the creature - it sensed two distinct sets of food, in two different directions, two distinct sets of warmth and life on which it wanted to feed - and solved it by watching the gas from the exterior of the ship permeate the structure, then proceeding to mimic the spreading gas by dividing itself into two entities - both with the same, inevitable goal of consuming the life of its targets. It parted ways with itself with an almost gleeful sound, as it proceeded in separate directions to hunt down its food, as it did before.
From deeper within the ship, a soft chuckle resounded, too low for the rescuers to hear, resonating from something dark that lurked deep inside its lower decks. It sniffed the air and was instantly fully aware of every biological function of the rescuers - their heart beats, the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies - all these things it longed to caress, to pull from them, to rip from their souls, while listening to their screams of agony and dispair, and knowing that the agony would continue for days, weeks, even months, before it allowed them to expire in paroxysms of delicious terror.
The soft echo of footfalls paraded through the room, at first almost unheard, and Zander knew once again that they were not alone. "Wh-what was that?" Zander exclaimed sheepishly as his heart began racing even harder.
He looked around only to realize no one else seemed to hear anything. "Come on guys" Voleron said, "We still need to find Milmar! You know we'll never hear the end of it from the Klingons if any of the bloodwine goes missing."
****
The creature, a wisp of inky darkness, moved in the shadows towards the lighted figures, shifting from shadow to shadow, moving from wall, to ceiling, to conduit, into the ventilation and out again, but always moving, inexorably, towards the figures in the light. It could FEEL their essences as it grew closer, patiently waiting to touch them, to feel them, to absorb them, as its essence yearned to drain all that they are into itself, to consume them, and with a single touch, turn them into its food.
The bulkheads in the corridor outside rattled as Th’val and her cadet (whose name she never bothered to learn) sat on the floor of the biology lab surrounded by PADDs, patiently waiting for engineering to fix the power. “Sounds like someone’s knocking, I should go see who it is?” the cadet ventured, only to be greeted by Th’val’s glare at finding yet another excuse to procrastinate from the set assignment; “who knocks on an automatic door?” Th’val replied “It’s just engineering taking their merry time changing some lightbulbs, just concentrate on the question: name 20 photosensitive lifeforms capable of consuming most humanoids with a single touch.”
The lights began to flicker throughout the station as the entity made its way through the walls hitting relay after relay, panic set in as Voleron realized the air was getting thinner, as he saw a thin whisp of smog fill the halls.
“Nebular gas!” He shouted realizing the decks were slowly filling filling with a haze that scattered the light of his flashlight.
From deeper within the ship, a soft chuckle resounded, too low for the rescuers to hear, resonating from something dark that lurked deep inside its lower decks. It sniffed the air and was instantly fully aware of every biological function of the rescuers - their heart beats, the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies - all these things it longed to caress, to pull from them, to rip from their souls, while listening to their screams of agony and dispair, and knowing that the agony would continue for days, weeks, even months, before it allowed them to expire in paroxysms of delicious terror.
The crew lowered their weapons seeing mstfrancis in dire pain. His moans, became silent as he drifted into a fugue state from lack of wine, eventually the only thing that could be heard were the air recyclers softly humming, as the crew recognized there was nothing more terrifying than that of the silence of the station.
The soft echo of footfalls paraded through the room, at first almost unheard, and Zander knew once again that they were not alone. "Wh-what was that?" Zander exclaimed sheepishly as his heart began racing even harder.
He looked around only to realize no one else seemed to hear anything. "Come on guys" Voleron said, "We still need to find Milmar! You know we'll never hear the end of it from the Klingons if any of the bloodwine goes missing."
****
The creature, a wisp of inky darkness, moved in the shadows towards the lighted figures, shifting from shadow to shadow, moving from wall, to ceiling, to conduit, into the ventilation and out again, but always moving, inexorably, towards the figures in the light. It could FEEL their essences as it grew closer, patiently waiting to touch them, to feel them, to absorb them, as its essence yearned to drain all that they are into itself, to consume them, and with a single touch, turn them into its food.
The bulkheads in the corridor outside rattled as Th’val and her cadet (whose name she never bothered to learn) sat on the floor of the biology lab surrounded by PADDs, patiently waiting for engineering to fix the power. “Sounds like someone’s knocking, I should go see who it is?” the cadet ventured, only to be greeted by Th’val’s glare at finding yet another excuse to procrastinate from the set assignment; “who knocks on an automatic door?” Th’val replied “It’s just engineering taking their merry time changing some lightbulbs, just concentrate on the question: name 20 photosensitive lifeforms capable of consuming most humanoids with a single touch.”
From deeper within the ship, a soft chuckle resounded, too low for the rescuers to hear, resonating from something dark that lurked deep inside its lower decks. It sniffed the air and was instantly fully aware of every biological function of the rescuers - their heart beats, the sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies - all these things it longed to caress, to pull from them, to rip from their souls, while listening to their screams of agony and dispair, and knowing that the agony would continue for days, weeks, even months, before it allowed them to expire in paroxysms of delicious terror.
The crew lowered their weapons seeing mstfrancis in dire pain. His moans, became silent as he drifted into a fugue state from lack of wine, eventually the only thing that could be heard were the air recyclers softly humming, as the crew recognized there was nothing more terrifying than that of the silence of the station.
The soft echo of footfalls paraded through the room, at first almost unheard, and Zander knew once again that they were not alone. "Wh-what was that?" Zander exclaimed sheepishly as his heart began racing even harder.
He looked around only to realize no one else seemed to hear anything. "Come on guys" Voleron said, "We still need to find Milmar! You know we'll never hear the end of it from the Klingons if any of the bloodwine goes missing."
****
The creature, a wisp of inky darkness, moved in the shadows towards the lighted figures, shifting from shadow to shadow, moving from wall, to ceiling, to conduit, into the ventilation and out again, but always moving, inexorably, towards the figures in the light. It could FEEL their essences as it grew closer, patiently waiting to touch them, to feel them, to absorb them, as its essence yearned to drain all that they are into itself, to consume them, and with a single touch, turn them into its food.