Click This Member
Part-time Kaiserin
STATUS: Mahz can't hear y'all from his Cabo vacation home 1 yr ago
- Last Seen: 1 hr ago
- Old Guild Username: Click This
- Joined: 13 yrs ago
- Posts: 1266 (0.28 / day)
- VMs: 5
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- Click This 13 yrs ago
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Mahz can't hear y'all from his Cabo vacation home
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2 yrs ago
If I read what?
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3 yrs ago
What a terrible day to have eyes
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3 yrs ago
Yes
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3 yrs ago
Imagine being a fan of Newark, NJ
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Bio
there needs to be more cuteness in the world
cute girls doing badass things
rp with me if you agree
cute girls doing badass things
rp with me if you agree
Most Recent Posts
But dat transwarp network.
[Bullying intensifies]
I could make a second character if it comes down to it.
Captain Hampshire stood at the stern of the small sloop as her crew worked on securing the vessel’s mooring lines. The wind and rain was deafening, such that orders had to shouted at absurd volumes to even be heard. Like the rest of her crew, Fir had wrapped herself in a heavy cloak to protect herself from the elements. She had selected fifty of the most able crew from the HMS Endymion for this endeavor. She trusted these men to their full capacity to not incapacitate themselves or desert—they were the best men aboard. Of course, that also meant a significant loss in fighting power and productivity aboard the HMS Endymion, but she trusted her second officer to deal with any situations that might rise aboard the frigate.
From her vantage point, she was able to see the silhouettes of the town and other ships through the fog and heavy rain. The small vessel rocked heavily, and she could see the same for the other vessels as the gray forms of their masts crisscrossed each other. She concluded it would probably be best for the better part of the crew to stay aboard and mind the boat, so to speak. An unmanned vessel in this weather would be disaster, and the more men out of the way of temptation and scrutiny, the better.
“Mr. Hudson! Have we secured the mooring line?” Fir’s call into the wind seemed almost futile, but the first officer managed to hear her shout and trudged his way over to the quarterdeck.
“Secured nice and tight, captain. You won’t have to worry about any waves dashing us against the piers.”
Fir nodded in acknowledgement, before waving to two midshipmen and the ship’s boatswain. “Very good. Robert, you’re with me. Mr. Clark, Mr. Smith, and Reeves—You too. We are heading into town. Remember now, we are privateers, of French import, pursuing English shipping. I hope you’ve practiced your French well.”
Shortly after descending from the ship’s ladder with her entourage, they were met by a peculiar long-haired pirate on the dock. He seemed keen and his wits about him –He was clearly watching as the sloop came into port. As the captain expected, he began to ask questions.
Captain Hampshire frowned, and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Hello, there. Weather’s a shame, really. We caught an old brig with a bit of rum for cargo. Then this fine weather here forced us to port.”
She shrugged again, with a shake of her head to emphasize her disappointment.
“We’re heading to the tavern, if you’d like to come with us. The dock isn’t a fine place to talk in this weather, after all.”
From her vantage point, she was able to see the silhouettes of the town and other ships through the fog and heavy rain. The small vessel rocked heavily, and she could see the same for the other vessels as the gray forms of their masts crisscrossed each other. She concluded it would probably be best for the better part of the crew to stay aboard and mind the boat, so to speak. An unmanned vessel in this weather would be disaster, and the more men out of the way of temptation and scrutiny, the better.
“Mr. Hudson! Have we secured the mooring line?” Fir’s call into the wind seemed almost futile, but the first officer managed to hear her shout and trudged his way over to the quarterdeck.
“Secured nice and tight, captain. You won’t have to worry about any waves dashing us against the piers.”
Fir nodded in acknowledgement, before waving to two midshipmen and the ship’s boatswain. “Very good. Robert, you’re with me. Mr. Clark, Mr. Smith, and Reeves—You too. We are heading into town. Remember now, we are privateers, of French import, pursuing English shipping. I hope you’ve practiced your French well.”
Shortly after descending from the ship’s ladder with her entourage, they were met by a peculiar long-haired pirate on the dock. He seemed keen and his wits about him –He was clearly watching as the sloop came into port. As the captain expected, he began to ask questions.
Captain Hampshire frowned, and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Hello, there. Weather’s a shame, really. We caught an old brig with a bit of rum for cargo. Then this fine weather here forced us to port.”
She shrugged again, with a shake of her head to emphasize her disappointment.
“We’re heading to the tavern, if you’d like to come with us. The dock isn’t a fine place to talk in this weather, after all.”
Looks like Saber.
Yep.
*Lights flickering on and off*
"WooooOoooOooo..."
Isis is unimpressed.
*Lights flickering on and off*
"WooooOoooOooo..."
Isis is unimpressed.
RogerD said
If you copy paste it into a browser you enlarge it even more, if you haven't already done so. Now look even closer. They're researching wormhole technology in the top left for how the Narada arrived. On the screens on the right they found wreckage at Galorndon Core, which only happened in TNG, There's an Organian shuttle on Earth, the Vulcans are called the Confederacy of Surak. A ship like Enterprise but half the size. Enterprise shields are called Metaphysic shields. I mean it is seriously frickin' weird.EDIT: It's a shame we cannot exchange tech, but I 'spose Temporal Directives will prevent you from doing so, not sure about mine. Plus i guess we have an OP directive stopping that after last time.
Well, technically, you're in the past and I'm from the future... of two seperate universes, and we're both in god knows what Universe from the point of our respective captains... So there might be some opportunity for interpretation of the Temporal Directives.
Haven't even played Watch Dogs yet. Ubisoft's gotten worse than EA recently...
RogerD said
It was like that from the first movie, so yeah it is an odd drive system they have, especially when the Ent flies out of the conduit in STID. The fact that Spock Prime never picked up on this is very puzzling indeed. There is also the issue that no one has ever been overtaken at warp, something which happened in Star Trek :Enterprise quite a few times meaning that didn't happen in the AU. There is a lot of weird stuff in the AU timeline, or perhaps just Easter Eggs, or Abrams could just trolling the fans. Not sure yet. I mean if you look at the diagram on Admiral Marcus' wall it has a Transwarp Network.Plus in the comics they have even encountered the Borg, and they make the OTL look like chumps, they're more akin to Replicators from Stargate than anything else.Now post TNG were you going aynway?
Wow, I never noticed the Transwarp network on the display. That's pretty damning.
Yeah, post TNG, but by only a few years, probably mid 2380s.
Reusing an old CS that I never really got to use. I've been saving it for something like this. :D
Name:
Isis Iphigenia
Age:
17
Gender:
Female
Hometown:
London, England
Ultimate:
SHSL Hacker
Appearance:
Clean. Institutionally clean. Her hair is always neatly done and her clothes bloody spotless, like her room. She’d rather dress up than dress down, and likes blazers and suits.
Personality:
“Studies prove there is a direct correlation between obsessive cleaning and sociopathy, and by extension, the inclination to display violence or otherwise exhibit anti-social behaviors.”
-Isis Iphigenia, AP Psychology paper.
Preppy, proactive, and friendly, Iphigenia is every bit the role-model high-school junior. A person that plays sports, sings karaoke, and is fantastic with electronics, she is seen by others as an easy to approach and amicable person. She is empathetic and has a stunning ability to lead, to the point that she was elected class representative at the beginning of her third year.
Yet something seems a bit off about her. Her jokes and comments always seem to allude to death or some other morbid joke. She is always crisp and neat and always wears well ironed, spotless clothes. If she gets a bit of dirt or some sort of stain on her clothes, she disappears for extended periods of time, only to appear with her hands in the pockets of new clothes, and a forced, demure smile.
Those that visit her home see a similar scene of neatness; the rooms are spotless, with nary a piece of dust to be found. Framed pictures are perfectly centered and horizontal to the ground, there is nothing on tables, and everything is inexplicably lined up, with no crooked placements to be found. Even her computer space is sterile; for an electronics guru like her, that is unusual indeed. Wires are perfectly coiled, discs neatly arranged and cataloged, and the PC desktop is almost always spotless. Alongside her neatly arranged collection of computer and audio equipment is a disconcerting collection of knives and scalpels in a Pelican case, with many of the spots for the weapons empty, presumably on her person.
These signs are simply preludes to a much more sinister condition. As she constantly alludes, she is in fact, a closet psychopath with no moral qualms in killing. The only reason she hasn’t stuck a hunting knife in somebody’s back or slit somebody’s throat with a scalpel is because she’s fully aware of her own condition to the point where she emphasizes with others --but just doesn’t really care-- and can essentially turn it off at will. Ultimately, she has enough self-restraint to not go on a super stabby-spree. Even then, the only reason she does that is because she doesn’t trust herself to not get caught killing somebody, and getting stuck in a looney-bin while the government attempts to brainwash you and feed you apple sauce every day is not a very enjoyable pastime.
Now, don’t get her wrong, she is not the type to explode or go batshit insane. She’s actually pretty reliable, and just likes poking things. With knives. Don’t get in her way, don’t mess up her things, and don’t drug her up with god knows what, and you’ll have a pretty reliable gray-hat hacker comrade.
Biography:
Iphigenia was a junior high school student in London before recently moving to the United States. From a young age, the control-seeking girl recognized that the growing computer industry was the place to go and took up basic programming on her own. It quickly became her main hobby, and as she grew older, her sphere of influence expanded to include computer hardware, radio, audio, and general electronics.
Throughout her life, she was always the smart, popular girl that knew a bit about computers. To others, this seemed normal enough, but Iphigenia began to take it to the next level, first delving into hacking, then spying on others, and then social engineering.
After getting into high school, she joined the robotics team and joined a programming club. This was also the time that Iphigenia became a little more… unstable. She began to keep an unusual amount of tabs on her fellow students through her skills, and on the odd occasion, would use this and the threat of violence as blackmail for the times where things... didn't go as well as they should.
She has no real aim in life; no life goal, no ultimate dream, but she really likes pursuing her hobbies. In sophomore year, she started doing freelance work for large companies as a “security analyst,” in which she would attempt to crack, break in, neutralize, or otherwise defeat big corporate security measures. It was a high paying job for a well-rounded analyst. Each commission brought her up to $15,000 on average upon each successful completion, and she never failed to break in to a company. She would use this money to fund her hobbies, and had put together an absurdly well-funded campaign for student council president until she decided to transfer.
Strengths:
Knife-fighting, self-defense, electronics, lock picking, parkour, lying, self-restraint.
Weaknesses:
Dirt, boredom, lying, absence of technology, absence of weapons.
Fears:
Loss of self-control, situations beyond her control.
Name:
Isis Iphigenia
Age:
17
Gender:
Female
Hometown:
London, England
Ultimate:
SHSL Hacker
Appearance:
Clean. Institutionally clean. Her hair is always neatly done and her clothes bloody spotless, like her room. She’d rather dress up than dress down, and likes blazers and suits.
Personality:
“Studies prove there is a direct correlation between obsessive cleaning and sociopathy, and by extension, the inclination to display violence or otherwise exhibit anti-social behaviors.”
-Isis Iphigenia, AP Psychology paper.
Preppy, proactive, and friendly, Iphigenia is every bit the role-model high-school junior. A person that plays sports, sings karaoke, and is fantastic with electronics, she is seen by others as an easy to approach and amicable person. She is empathetic and has a stunning ability to lead, to the point that she was elected class representative at the beginning of her third year.
Yet something seems a bit off about her. Her jokes and comments always seem to allude to death or some other morbid joke. She is always crisp and neat and always wears well ironed, spotless clothes. If she gets a bit of dirt or some sort of stain on her clothes, she disappears for extended periods of time, only to appear with her hands in the pockets of new clothes, and a forced, demure smile.
Those that visit her home see a similar scene of neatness; the rooms are spotless, with nary a piece of dust to be found. Framed pictures are perfectly centered and horizontal to the ground, there is nothing on tables, and everything is inexplicably lined up, with no crooked placements to be found. Even her computer space is sterile; for an electronics guru like her, that is unusual indeed. Wires are perfectly coiled, discs neatly arranged and cataloged, and the PC desktop is almost always spotless. Alongside her neatly arranged collection of computer and audio equipment is a disconcerting collection of knives and scalpels in a Pelican case, with many of the spots for the weapons empty, presumably on her person.
These signs are simply preludes to a much more sinister condition. As she constantly alludes, she is in fact, a closet psychopath with no moral qualms in killing. The only reason she hasn’t stuck a hunting knife in somebody’s back or slit somebody’s throat with a scalpel is because she’s fully aware of her own condition to the point where she emphasizes with others --but just doesn’t really care-- and can essentially turn it off at will. Ultimately, she has enough self-restraint to not go on a super stabby-spree. Even then, the only reason she does that is because she doesn’t trust herself to not get caught killing somebody, and getting stuck in a looney-bin while the government attempts to brainwash you and feed you apple sauce every day is not a very enjoyable pastime.
Now, don’t get her wrong, she is not the type to explode or go batshit insane. She’s actually pretty reliable, and just likes poking things. With knives. Don’t get in her way, don’t mess up her things, and don’t drug her up with god knows what, and you’ll have a pretty reliable gray-hat hacker comrade.
Biography:
Iphigenia was a junior high school student in London before recently moving to the United States. From a young age, the control-seeking girl recognized that the growing computer industry was the place to go and took up basic programming on her own. It quickly became her main hobby, and as she grew older, her sphere of influence expanded to include computer hardware, radio, audio, and general electronics.
Throughout her life, she was always the smart, popular girl that knew a bit about computers. To others, this seemed normal enough, but Iphigenia began to take it to the next level, first delving into hacking, then spying on others, and then social engineering.
After getting into high school, she joined the robotics team and joined a programming club. This was also the time that Iphigenia became a little more… unstable. She began to keep an unusual amount of tabs on her fellow students through her skills, and on the odd occasion, would use this and the threat of violence as blackmail for the times where things... didn't go as well as they should.
She has no real aim in life; no life goal, no ultimate dream, but she really likes pursuing her hobbies. In sophomore year, she started doing freelance work for large companies as a “security analyst,” in which she would attempt to crack, break in, neutralize, or otherwise defeat big corporate security measures. It was a high paying job for a well-rounded analyst. Each commission brought her up to $15,000 on average upon each successful completion, and she never failed to break in to a company. She would use this money to fund her hobbies, and had put together an absurdly well-funded campaign for student council president until she decided to transfer.
Strengths:
Knife-fighting, self-defense, electronics, lock picking, parkour, lying, self-restraint.
Weaknesses:
Dirt, boredom, lying, absence of technology, absence of weapons.
Fears:
Loss of self-control, situations beyond her control.
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