[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 25 2019
Dang, sorry I just missed this!  Some amazing entries, though!!
Unknown Person liked this
Ted Hembach


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 24 2019
Thank you all for your colorful contributions. They are great!
The Rainbow Away Team Screenshot Contest is hereby closed.
We will soon inform you here in this thread about the winners! Stay tuned!

Meanwhile you can proceed with our Pride10 Week 2 event here:
Pride Lands

For an overview of our Pride10 festivities please look here:
Stonewall Pride10

4 people liked this

Writing Contest: Fables of Betrayals!

June 24 2019

Today is the day I take command of the Oppenheimer. I just need to dispose of the Captain first...
Being the Chief of Security has the added benefit of having access to the whole ship without being suspicious. The bastard won't even see it coming.
The captain is a creature of habit. He hides it well, but he likes things done a certain way, which makes him predictable after observing his behavior for long enough. And I have - For longer than anyone else. We've been through hell and back together, so he trusts me implicitly. The fool.

As I finish my rounds, the Captain should be finishing up his jog across the upper deck, after which he'll have dinner in his quarters, followed by some reading.
I head to the galley and sit down for a meal myself. A medium rare steak ought to do the trick. I should make that Orion cook my concubine when I'm done. After we removed her pheromone glands, the green bitch always overseasons the food, but I'm sure she still has other talents.

I will make my move when the captain is indulging in his Andorian shisha in the officer's lounge. He always kicks everyone out when he does that so he can relax, even his boy toys. Even I had to make a copy of his access key to override the door. Luckily for me, this time his supply of tobacco was spiked with other herbs, so he'll be too intoxicated to notice.

It's almost time. I pat the dagger on my belt... Seems like I'm getting a little nervous. But then of course I am. Betrayal should not be taken lightly. I pass the crewmen on the way to the turbolift, they bow and salute to my superiority as I walk. 

Three more levels. That pointy eared freak enters the turbolift, but she has the courtesy to not look me in the eye. If she weren't so fat, she'd be attractive... For a half-breed.

The door opens and I stroll out of the lift, knowing that victory is only a few steps away.

I swat a fly on my neck. Wait...
By the time I realize that Doctor T'Lara injected me with something, it's already too late. As the muscle relaxant shuts down my body, I think to myself - We should never underestimate the subordinates.
2 people liked this


[PRIDE10: WEEK 2] Pride Lands

June 23 2019

It's time to get inspirational and creative in Pride Lands, our second event in the run up to the fabulous Stonewall #Pride10 weekend!


50 years ago, a little known show called Star Trek ended...but in Greenwich, NYC, an awakening began...           
The Stonewall Riots, after which Stonewall Gaming Network is named, became a defining moment in LGBT history.
People stood up against the oppression using only what they could find.
So every year we honour their courage and celebrate with pride.         
Whether you are LGBT+ or a straight ally, out or still in the closet....
What makes you proud? Have you done something to help your LGBT community in your area or online?
Or what are you most proud of? Are you a proud gamer? Did you get that ultimate score?
Or whom?

Are you proud of a collection?           
Or of an achievement in life? Be it great or small! Are you proud of doing this in your life? (A college degree, a piece or art, something that you made or completed)
Did you complete an accolade set or get that legendary event done?
Or earned enough to finally get that ship you wanted?
50 years on...Star Trek has returned strong.
But the quest for equality continues...
Add your voice to our chorus by telling us your pride story.

  • You are welcome to use creative licence to share your pride story - be it written, audio, photographic, artistic composition or even a combination!
  • Your entry should be able to tell your pride story to us and all readers/viewers and evoke the feeling of us sharing in your pride.
  • So if it is a photographic entry, consider including a short narrative to accompany it, unless the photo is self-explanatory!
  • There is no limit to written entries but we do ask for more than simple one liners as they may not be sufficient enough to tell your pride story.
  • Share your pride story entry on this page from now until 30th June.
  • The judges will be Gareth, Kierix and Cal who will review all the entries and determine the top 3 after this date.

The top 3 entries, as rated by the judging panel, will win Stonewall Credits, redeemable in our Stonewall Credits Store:
  • 1st place 3 Stonewall Credits
  • 2nd place 2 Stonewall Credits
  • 3rd place 1 Stonewall Credits

And finally, all participants will have their entries immortalised in the next edition of the Stonewall Times!

We look forward to seeing your submissions!
6 people liked this
Edited June 24 2019 by calx


Writing Contest: Fables of Betrayals!

June 23 2019
The Admiral and the Activist

The force field between them seems to stretch a thousand light years. They have traversed more than that since they last spoke. A starched uniform faces off a utilitarian jumpsuit, each seeing the brig as their stage, their moment of defiance.

"I hear your code name is now White Knight," the Admiral observes with a wry sigh, "you always were one for such pretentious savior nonsense. What's the next one going to be, Angel Gabriel?"

"Says the woman who sums up her life achievements in a series of pips," the Activist retorts, relaxing into a smug swagger. "How much did that latest one cost you?- No wait, let me rephrase. How many lives did it cost?"

"I serve the Federation. Do you serve anyone but yourself?"

"Evasive as ever."

"Look in the mirror."

In the corner, the guard barely conceals a judging look at the direction of the interrogation.

The Admiral tuggs her collar up and ponders a change of tack. "You should start to cooperate before the trial," she begins "They may go easy on you."

"Me?" the Activist scoffs. "You think this will end in any other way than you hauled before the Supreme Court for, how many constitutional violations?"

"Everything I've done is sanctioned by the Starfleet Charter and the Federation Council. Times of war can require extreme measures."

"Such as mass slaughter of civilian populations?"

"Let's talk about that, shall we? What were you doing on the planet surface?"

"Saving lives. What were you doing in orbit?"

"I'm asking the questions."

The activist scoffs. "Okay, Admiral. I'll play your game."

"Did you, or did you not, leak classified battle plans to the enemy?"

"If by that, did I warn a colony of farmers to get out the way of your armada of death, then yes."

"So you admit aiding the enemy in wartime, leading to the deaths of countless numbers of your own troops?"

"They're not my enemy. Not our enemy. And you led those troops into battle on lies and jingoism. Those people would have stood no chance against your bombardment. They're peaceful."

"Using civilians as shields is an age old tactic. We won't win this war by playing nice."

"Playing nice? You make murder sound like a faux pas."

"And you make war sound like a game of cricket. There's no scones in the pavilion tea room after the match. This is about survival."

"And what about the survival of our principles?"

"You can't let principles come before protecting your children."

"Yes. You do. If your principles don't come first, they're not principles. They're just empty rhetoric to inflate your own ego; to relieve your guilt when times are good. Your generation drilled those Federation ideals into us throughout our life. Told us that they defined who we were; how we were different from those you called our enemies. Is it so surprising that we would take them to heart? That we would challenge you to live up to them when you fail to pass their muster??"

The Activist left an uncomfortable vacuum with her sudden silence, the Admiral unsure now how to fill it. The two broke off from their dog fight, avoiding eye contact as they paced in circles attempting to figure out who they're break through to the other.

"Do you remember," the Admiral began, still focused on her hands, "when we spoke at your graduation. I was so proud that you had chosen to serve in Starfleet. You said you were inspired by me, that you wanted to protect the Federation like I did. I don't understand why you turned your back on it all. Why you betrayed the Federation, betrayed your oath... betrayed me."

"I left to defend the Federation," the Activist replied, weary of this familiar ground. "I left to fulfill my oath. As for you, you are not the woman I thought you were. That became obvious after you ordered us to execute the prisoners."

"We didn't have the room. It's what they prefer in their culture."

"It's not what we do in ours. My mistake was to take you at your word. To see you as my mentor. Even, my hero. It blinded me to your dark side."

"Don't be so hyperbolic. Dark side indeed..."

"It was always there, I just chose not to see it. I was used to seeing you as compassionate and caring. I ignored the way you treated your crew. I ignore the way you stampeded over strangers for simple convenience. I ignore the way you treated my brother."

"He wasn't cut out for Starfleet, not like-"

"Like me? And look where we are now. How does that feel, Admiral? My turn for questions." The Admiral gave a mildly assenting huff. "What was the strategic goal of your assault?"

"To win the war. To drive back the enemy from our space."

"This planet was never Federation space."

"It would have been, if they weren't spreading like wildfire before we got this far out. It's a perfect world for us and a key strategic location."

"What enemy installations did you identify? Shipyards? Supply depots?"

"They were here, what more did I need."

"There are countless worlds you could have targeted. What made this one special?"

"Proximity to..." the Admiral wavered, a small crack in her poker face appeared, then faded. "It's provides key food supplies to the front line. Removing it from the board slows the enemy's advance."

"Ah... wheat. Despite the fact that front line supplies are routed two sectors away as this world doesn't produce enough for export yet. I did notice something unique about this world though. It has a similar population, topography, demographics and industry to Talion IX. What happened to Talion IX three days ago, Admiral?"

"There was a battle."

"Care to rephrase?"

"A massacre. The enemy slaughtered us."

"Did you know anyone there?"

"You know full well-"

"Did you know anyone there? Because I'm not so sure considering you didn't show up at his funeral."

"I was busy. There's a war on."

"Busy on a revenge spree I understand. They killed our own, and you wanted to kill their own."

"You wouldn't understand."

"How do I not understand. He was my brother."

"Blood for blood. That's the language they understand and we have to respond in kind! They have to know that we will be as ruthless as they are. Then, and only then, will they respect us."

"What's the value of their respect, when we can no longer respect ourselves. Admiral?"

"I suppose you intend to use that admission against me. I know they'll understand though. Will they understand your choice though? How many siblings and children were lost because you sold them out?"

"And how many were saved?"

"We both know that our own are of far more value. You traded lives, theirs for ours. You're coming down."

"Not without you I'm not." The Activist turns away, wanting to bury herself in the bulkhead behind her. The Admiral reaches out, her fingers hovering above the forcefield. The electricity tingles across her skin. She withdraws her hand in shame as the Activist turns back to her; her face possessed by a stern visage. "We both know how this will go. This," the Activist gestures to their reunion, "was a mistake."

"It doesn't have to end this way."

"Perhaps not." The silence haunts the silence between them. If only she'd just say it, they think. If only she'd show me it's okay. Eventually, the Activist gives up waiting. "I'll see you at the trial."

"It's not like I have a choice."

The Activist gives a brief nod to the guard before leaving her prisoner to be picked up by Starfleet Security.

"Emma!" the Admiral calls out. The Activist turns on the utterance of her name. She waits in the doorway for the admission; the compromise; the end of that damned facade. But the Admiral simply stutters; her face sinks and she retreats back into her cell.

"Goodbye, mom." The door closes.
4 people liked this
Tourma Rivers


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 23 2019
After defeating the wicked T'mok and the Coalesence, S'tanius and the Magical Centurions felt that there work was done.  The Empire was safe.  They went back to their normal lives on Romulus.  After the destruction of the Homeworld, the girls were scattered.  S'taius, alone on a colony world discovers a new threat.  The vile General J'nop is taking advantage of the disporia by sending the loathsome Commander R'Trek with his very own Magical Centurions, the Star Eclipse.  Fueled by dark magics, these ladies mean to take down what it means to be Romulan.

Can S'taius get the girls back together? 
Will R'Trek stamp out the will of the Empire? 
Can S'taius resist the dark allure of Subcommander S'ainia?

Find out in season four of Magical Centurion S'taius!

(Links to the image if it is broken to everyone but me)

Discord Link
Twitter Link
Tumblr Link
Sta.sh Link
5 people liked this
Edited June 23 2019 by Tourma
Kevin Van Eeten


Writing Contest: Fables of Betrayals!

June 22 2019
Treasure Trading Station in orbit of Argelius II – July 2409
Leaving the stale recycled air behind him, he entered the airlock connecting his Interceptor-class Orion shuttlecraft to Treasure Trading Station. The narrow confines of this walkway gave him about half an arms-length at each side to manoeuvre, but it was preferable in any case over the cold hard vacuum present in the high orbit over Argelius II. His shuttle’s door closed behind him, and an almost inaudible hiss reminded him of the gaseous disinfectant that was being dispersed through the airlock. The soft hiss was almost immediately drowned out by the voice of a computerised Ferengi female.
“Welcome to Treasure Trading Station, Saler-Thon! The Argelius II Ferengi Trading Consortium hopes you had a comfortable journey from Ter'jas Mor to our vibrant trading outpost. Disinfecting will shortly be completed, and you and your partner have been assigned to the luxurious suite number 109 so that you can enjoy a breath-taking view on the planet below. We hope that your stay will be a pleasant one. And on the subject of pleasure… rush over to deck 24 to meet our highly skilled entertainers from all over the Galaxy in the Silverling Night Club, where perpetual night-time creates the perfect atmosphere for all your… eh… more exotic desires!”
The heavy leak-tight doors at the end of the walkway slowly slided open and the atmosphere abruptly lost its serenity. Raucous laughter made by a group of passing Chalnoth, exaggerated gesturing by shady merchants, unfamiliar yet magical music, and overwhelming perfumes all battled for Saler-Thon’s attention and his mind needed a second to re-adjust to this abrupt change of scenery. Focus now! Any small mistake can cost you your life, or worse… that of your beloved Ya’ara.
Wading through the crowd towards his assigned suite 109 was quite a struggle, but he managed to re-focus his attention. Ya’ara would have arrived about one hour ago and was already waiting in suite 109 with the files on an isolinear chip. Together, they’d flee the Orion Syndicate and request asylum in Federation space. Whatever acts of marauding and piracy Saler-Thon had committed in the past against Federation targets would be rapidly forgiven, when Starfleet Intelligence found out what Ya’ara’s files could offer.

Orion Syndicate Palaces, Ter’jas Mor – October 2406
Ya’ara and Saler-Thon were both immune to the powerful pheromones produced by Orion women to subtly assert dominance over the male population. Although this biological curiosity is considered rare, it was not completely unheard of. What was most irregular about Ya’ara and Saler-Thon however, was that they survived their childhood with this pheromonal immunity… and the only reason they survived was that somehow they both and separate from each other were able to stay out of the clutches of the Orion Syndicate’s secret police. Melani D’ian and her predecessors spared no resource to fortify and assure her dominance in this strictly matriarchal society… not even the killing of pheromonally immune boys was beneath her.
When Ya’ara and Saler-Thon met at the Syndicate Palaces they were both very recently been recruited by impressment. Saler-Thon would serve as a pirate captain in D’ian’s fleet, while Ya’ara was sent to the Palace’s quartermaster to serve. Even though they were mutually unaware of their common immunity at that time, their romantic attraction for one another was not so unapparent. The moment they laid eyes on each other they fell hopelessly in love… there could not conceivably be a pheromone in the universe so strong that it could block this almost gravitational attraction. This attraction grew stronger with every visit Saler-Thon and his pirate ship made to Ter’jas Mor where grand celebratory feasts were held in honour of the great pirate captain. Halfway through these celebrations, when the copious amounts of imported Romulan ale had placated even D’ian’s most devout followers and secret agents, Saler-Thon and Ya’ara would sneak out for their illicit romantic activities. This warm summer night was going to be somewhat different from the other tête-à-têtes they had had before…
“During our latest raid, we boarded the U.S.S. Linnaeus, a medical science vessel, and I stumbled upon some interesting piece of intel,” Saler-Thon knew he was on very slippery grounds here, but he knew that he could trust Ya’ara. The only reason for their mutual affection could be that Ya’ara was also immune to the Orion pheromones. Ya’ara’s smile and deep green eyes encouraged him on.
“Starfleet Intelligence is performing biological research on disrupting the activity of the female control pheromone, after discovering that a small group of the Orion population is born with an immunity for it.” He hesitated… these were dangerous words, but he knew he could trust his lover. They were both immune, it could be the only reason for their bond. Saler-Thon continued: “An immunity we both seem to possess…”

Treasure Trading Station in orbit of Argelius II – July 2409
A little less than three years passed since their coming-out to each other and their shared secret not only empowered their growing emotional bond, it also was going to be their ticket out of this oppressive society. During his raids near the Federation border, Saler-Thon was constantly looking for more intel on Starfleet Intelligence research on the Orion pheromones, while Ya’ara was building up a database of his own. During one of his earlier raids, Saler-Thon was able to steal a very small, yet extremely advanced biochemical tricorder of an unknown alien origin. No small effort was made to keep it out of Melani D’ian’s hands, and give it to Ya’ara. With it, Ya’ara was able to secretly take samples of the pheromonal biochemical structure during all phases of an Orion female’s life, and the different interactions with a broad spectrum of genetically dissimilar males and non-binary Orions.
All this biochemical data was now safely stored on the isolinear chip in Ya’ara’s possession in suite 109. They would contact Admiral Jamal Al-Fayed of the U.S.S. Persephone the moment the two Orions were reunited, so that they could be taken to Starfleet Intelligence for questioning and live their lives in freedom and love for each other.
As Saler-Thon approached the luxurious suite 109 his heart was pounding in his throat… soon they’d be safe, soon they’d be together forever! He opened the door to the suite in anticipation of his lover’s face… and was greeted by a group of three Orion secret police officers pointing their disruptors at him. Next to the officers was Ya’ara. Saler-Thon’s initial reaction was to make sure that Ya’ara was safe. A deeply chilling feeling crept over Saler-Thon though as soon as he realised that Ya’ara was more than fine… there was no sense of fear or worry on his lover’s face but a demonic smile. A wicked smile it was, as though a grand and evil scheme was finally reaching its horrible conclusion.
Ya’ara spoke in such a disdainful tone it slashed through Saler-Thon’s soul: “Melani D’ian thanks you for your loyal service in investigating how your abnormal and degenerate nature can now be identified and corrected. Of course no knowledge of your research can ever be allowed to fall in the hands of our enemies. And therefore I now need to tidy up some loose ends… by loose ends I mean you of course Saler-Thon.”
“By the authority of my mistress Melani D’ian, I sentence you to die.”
An energy beam engulfed Saler-Thon. Unexpectedly, it was not the energy discharge of a disruptor, but the transporters of the U.S.S. Persephone engaged just in time to save Saler-Thon’s skin. His life was saved, but his heart would never be whole again.

5 people liked this
Edited June 23 2019 by Chipz416

[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 22 2019
Wait, shit, the deadline is coming.

Ahem, I present to you, two Romugay Butterflies:

Dramatis Personae:
Annisa (Me), T'Saebrineth (@Allehandra) and our Risian Kittycal
4 people liked this
Edited June 22 2019 by Balduranne
Kevin Van Eeten


Voth Battlezone Popup

June 21 2019
Yes, if we rain so much fire on the dino's we don't even have to cook our steaks anymore! :D

Unknown Person liked this
Kevin Van Eeten


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 21 2019

Be that rainbow in someone else's life every now and then... it can mean the world to them.

~ Love Chipz

5 people liked this
John Kominetz


Voth Battlezone Popup

June 21 2019
Maybe a good trial run for Plasma Mayhem 2019?  I was thinking for my still-nascent Romulan event idea of having everybody equip Romulan hyper-plasma launchers and litter the skies of the battlezones with shimmering green death balls. Or red AKA the T'varro destabilized plasma torpedo. Of course, any ship can equip the RHP, so having it doesn't have to be a Romulan event.
Unknown Person liked this

[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 20 2019
I went to the end of the rainbow and I found this:

7 people liked this
Edited June 20 2019 by hippiepunk
Kevin Van Eeten


[PRIDE 10] Stonewall's 10th Annual Pride Weekend

June 20 2019

Join us on Bajor’s Hathon for the next leap of our Pride festivities; our Costume Contest! The air is scented heavily with exotic spices, while it’s being pervaded by strange and bedazzling music… the sheer pressure on your senses almost overwhelms you, yet you want more. This mystical land, of magic and sand… is more than it seems! With Pride it is announced that this year’s Costume Contest theme will be:

Arabian Nights

And we will have two categories in which you can participate.

1 – The Sultan’s Harem

For the Sultan’s evening entertainment a large and diverse troupe of fire breathers, sword swallowers, belly dancers, magicians, and many other proud performers frequent the Royal Palace. The Sultan is often deeply impressed by exotic forms of entertainment, exorbitant displays of vividly coloured fabrics, or anything else that dazzles the senses…

2 – Fabulous Fairy-tale Prince(ss)

The Sultan’s only child and Heir to the Throne is looking for a Prince(ss) to together rule the desert lands with. Show off your proud and noble heritage, or impress the Heir with your street rat charm. Display your fitness to rule these magical lands, be it with an iron fist as it is your royal birth right, or through charm and empathy for those sandy street dwellers from which you originate.

Your costumes will be judged on their originality, how much they fit the encompassing Arabian Nights theme, and how much they are in line with the descriptions of the two categories.

The use of pets from far and fabled lands, or enhancing your show with visual abilities is allowed and encouraged, as long as they do not affect any of the other contestants, hosts, or spectators.

Stonewall Credits will be awarded to the winners in each category. Per category the prizes will be divided as follows:

1st place - 3 Stonewall Credit
2nd place - 2 Stonewall Credit
3rd place - 1 Stonewall Credit

3 people liked this
Edited June 20 2019 by Chipz416


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 20 2019
Rainbows even make the terrans happy!


6 people liked this
Edited June 20 2019 by Kierix
Gareth GXV3


[PRIDE 10] Stonewall's 10th Annual Pride Weekend

June 19 2019

LOCATION : Risa Resort

THINGS YOU WILL NEED: Power Board and a Floater, tag item (given on day), Section 31 holo emitter (given on day)

We start off on Risa, where we gather to go over the MonsterBoard Race details, If your reading this now, it means you'll already know what to do.
This game is a Tag race.. so We will partner you all up on the day.

- You and your partner should make a team with each other so you can track them on the map easily.
- Discuss between yourselves who has the best quality Powerboard.
- Decide who will be the powerboard racer.. and who will be the better runner
- You and your team mate should make a "Team Name" for yourselves, and let the Risa Resort Reps know. (remember that team name as you will need it at the end of the race)

Our Risa Resort Reps will give your team a few needed items first.
- A tag item to the chosen powerboard racer of your team.. which you must hand/exchange to your partner when you tag there turn at each tag point. (points 3 & 4 on the map below)
- x 2 section 31 faulty holo emitters, that you MUST wear all through the race.

- Make sure you are BOTH wearing the given Section 31 holo emitter when the race starts
(for those who don't know, the Section 31 holo emiter device turns you into a random alien/monster for a duration of 5 mins)

When we are ready to start the race, the chosen Powerboard racer of your team heads to the start area (point 1 on the map below, its basicly the starting point where you normally powerboard race) While the person chosen to do the on foor race stays where they are (point 3)

On the countdown.. Powerboard races GO!
Follow the normal powerboard race track as you do in the game.

when you hit the end point (point 2 on the map).. Run over to your waiting partner.
Do an exchange with them, and give the Tag item that we gave you at the start of the race.
as soon as you have exchanged, its now the turn of the runner of the team!! GO!!

The runner starts.. Running all the way across the beach following the green line on the map below. (ensuring no snow boots are active)

POWER BOARDERS NOTE: As the On foot racer gets underway.. the team member who just did the powerboard run.. get over to the Ferengi camp (point 4) as soon as you can, using any methord you can to get there, you just need to be standing at point 4 when your partner completes their on foot run.

When the On foot team mate reaches the Ferengi camp (point 4) your partner should be their waiting for you. Exchange Again with your partner the Tag item.
as soon as you have exchanged.. the person with the tag item puts on a floater... and flys as fast as they can to the Resort hotel.. and to the mail terminal..
Emails @ GXV3 with the tag item... amd include the name of your team in that email.

The person who emails GXV3 first,with the tag item AND team name, will be the winner of the race, 2nd, 3rd and 4th will also get a prize.


- Prepare your race by getting the best Powerboard and floater you can before Pride weekend.
- NO Snowboots are allowed at all
- You must wear your given Section 31 holo emitter at all times
- you must take no short cuts, the race will be followed by Risa Resort reps at all times to ensure no cheating
- Traits are allowed, this is a monster race!


1st place Team - 5 SWC each
2nd place Team - 4 SWC each
3rd place Team - 3 SWC each
4th place Team - 2 SWC each

4 people liked this
Edited June 19 2019 by GXV3
Ian M. Walker


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 19 2019

Much to my surprise, it was Aracoixt who stepped up to this challenge.  Since he already has his bridge crew in, questionable attire, it didn't take much for him to go further with a little colour.

Here is his Desert Pride away team.

(Invalid img)


6 people liked this
Edited June 20 2019 by Michlo
Gareth GXV3


[PRIDE10: WEEK 1] Rainbow Away-Team Screenshot Contest

June 18 2019
The Crew of the U.S.S. Camelot on a lads night out to the space disco!

7 people liked this
Kevin Van Eeten


Voth Battlezone Popup

June 18 2019
Yay, dino steak for dinner it is!

Unknown Person liked this
Edited June 18 2019 by Chipz416
Edward Saint Plazma


Voth Battlezone Popup

June 18 2019
Join me and the Morale department  on Sunday June 23 for our Voth popup event!

The event starts at 10AM MDT, when's that in your time zone? Click here to find out!

Breach Elite Runs  10am  to 1045 mst

The Voth Fortress Ship has been  spotted near the Solanae Dyson Sphere! Join  Stonewall in bringing this  massive  starship down.

The Contested Zone 11am to 1145

After  our  victory over the  Fortress ship, it's  time to  bring the fight  back to the sphere. Help Stonewall Fleet  take and keep  control of  the Solanae Sphere.

Voth Battlezone 1200pm

We pushed them  back  in space and in the Sphere. It's  now  time to push them back on the ground. Grab your  favorite  weapon and  make sure history  never forgets Stonewall Fleet.
5 people liked this
Edited June 18 2019 by Saintplazma
Joye McCaster


Writing Contest: Fables of Betrayals!

June 18 2019
Captains Table: Falling in the Night

The ship was cold, it was always cold; bitterness seeped into the bones of the crew, filled the very metal of the ship with fingers of frozen emotion. A breen ship that the feline captain had acquired as salvage, rebuilt and crewed now by those who were like J'soph. The forgotten of the stars, those who were left behind in the darkness to die before frozen salvation came for them. 
Doors hissed open, giving the sound of serpents drawing back before snapping closed. J'sophs heavy feet fell against the deck, creating an echoing chorus in time with the workings of the weathered ship. Slowing before turning his head, the faint stirrings of music... something from Earth, he thought. It brought him back for a moment, to a time when youth and life still filled every part of him. Life was everything to him then; those days when the stars were the calling force, and the service in which he chose to continue.

Turning away from that music, trying to force it from his mind; from the warmth that fiddle and piano brought to him. His steps continued down the hissing dark corridor, till the feeling of fingers moving along fur alerted every sense in his body. J'soph spun, pulling his weapon free, looking around him to anything that was there or could be there. The weapon slowly returned to the holster, his hand moving to where he felt familiar fingers. The stirrings of memory, of feelings he once held dear; ice was there, though, trying to steal that feeling away into a frozen cage.

A long hiss emanated from the Caitian, before turning on heel to enter his private quarters. Stepping through he felt only warmth, the wash of laughter and the alluring scent of drinks that had not been tasted by the Feline Captain in some years. The door shutting behind him was not his, not his ships, not one that he could ever recall seeing. Around him a field of lifeforms, many known and so many more he had never encountered or seen. Darted among them, a few Klingons and Humans engaging in bouts of boasting.

Reacting as though he was still in the war, reaching for a phaser that had not been at his side in more years than the old Caitian would care to remember; The arm reaching out, though clothed, seemed the age of a much younger man; from a time when a badge sat on his chest proudly. J'soph found himself seeking the nearest reflection; finding what he feared, a younger mans face... one that was his when the heart was still warm, and he knew his purpose in things.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" Feline eyes darting to the source of those words, his head cocked a little to the side, finding himself staring at a human. One that every bit of his senses told him was not human, but not anything he could understand yet. Yet this man spoke softly, Irish tones lifting from his lips giving a light ease and comfort, an empty glass slowly being cleaned effortlessly set down before the feline captain. Soon something amber and sweet smelling filled the glass, as the man stood there watching J'soph. "Remarkable, this place... not what you want but sometimes just what you need, and sometimes, even a reminder of what you are." His lazy smile somehow easing J'soph, who nudged his paws forward till one hand slipped around the offered drink.

"Wha...." The question dying on the felines lips, as the barkeep held up one weathered hand. He smiled broadly, using that hand to motion around the gathering there. "The Captain's Table, just a place for stories and to find some respite, some peace or kinship. Drinks and time only cost a simple story, nothing more, nothing less. You came here, so something must be on your mind that wants to be told. Find a good ear to speak it too and enjoy yourself, Captain." Leaning back, the human looking man turned ,strolling down the long bar attending to others, as though nothing else ever need be spoken on the matter, no questions to reply to, just the simple answer.

Taking the drink, he walked towards what looked to be an empty table. J'soph felt some of that old age creeping into his bones. He looked and felt young, but the feeling was there, growing as he sank into a chair... That all too familiar feeling of age and pain, it was his frozen weight; what the feline captain dragged behind him, wore around his neck every day. The drink he carried was one that had been missing from his lips for long years, its taste pulling J'soph back to long nights. To a time that his uniform would adorn the floor, among other discarded clothing from the man that had been his lover.

Sitting next to him suddenly, a young human, joined by a battered old Klingon. It didn't take long for the table to fill with drinks and boasting being shared. Yet J'soph sat there silently, until the jovial hand of that Klingon rapped against his arm. His voice deep and resonating, almost operatic with its tone and ringing that lingered. "You look too young for such a dark and weathered presence... come, share a tale with us, Captain..." His words trailing away as the Caitian's eyes looked up to meet his, showing the age that lingered behind them before lips moved speaking softly. "A tale... stories, yes, I do have a few. Many good times with crew and friends, many times when all was calm and held the peace I once treasured... yet I can't recall them as I would want too. I can only think of a story from when I stepped down from the command of a ship, to take up a different role for a Captain that had become dear to me. It is not a kind story or one that many know about or should, but it is here on my lips and I shall share this story. My name is J'soph, my first command was the Pendragon... a Starfleet ship, though given those gathered at this table, I am sure many know that just by how I am dressed.” Looking around, those gathered offered a few nods showing acknowledgment, though one set of eyes, those belonging to a young human seemed more focused. He seemed familiar to the feline captain, though placing him, he could not just yet.

“My Command there was long and fulfilling, the ship sturdy and steadfast in all she tried and needed to do. Though during those long years in command I trained, and became close to many young officers who went on to their own dreams and desires, one was particular to my heart; he served under me as a junior officer, later, my second in command until the day came for him to gain his own command. It was during this time he asked me to step down from command for a time, to join him as his chief medical officer. And as his lover. The Pendragon was a good ship of the line, but I had always been a doctor that was pushed into command when time came for it. I accepted his offer, the draw to heal again... to serve the purpose I found most desired rose so hard and fast. I stepped down from command, and became the chief medical officer of the Hopkins. Now as ships go she was not the sleekest, not the most armed...She was a hospital floating in the stars; armed just enough to hold out long enough, or clear debris and nothing more. An ambassador class starship, they were already pretty rare at this point, the majority of the class phased out for Galaxy or Nebula class ships, or newer ships of the line. Though old, she had history soaked into every deck. Five years she was home to us, days on duty... nights together, clothes rarely kept on when we were together in quarters.”

Taking up his drink, sipping slowly, whiskers dipping after a moment before setting the glass down to look among those there. “Many long, good years... times I spent the last twenty and more years of my life trying to forget, to leave in the past and never dredge up again... but they are there again, reminding me what warmth once felt like. Hmm, I digress I think from the point of things. The Federation had just left one long, devastating war, attacks by the Borg... then the destruction of Romulus. The Hopkins was there in the early part of colony evacuations along the path of destruction, part of Federation relief and aid efforts. The Federation lost Ambassador Spock in the effort to stop the wave of destruction, the Romulan Empire broke. Power struggles rising up quickly between the Tal Shiar and the Imperial Fleets, the outlying colonies where hit hard. But it was the mid range and inner colony worlds that were devastated; we responded to one of their calls for help. The colony world was deep into the Empire's territory, Star Fleet had ships throughout Romulan space assisting where they could. While most of the wave from the Hobus supernova was neutralized, fingers of it still traveled until hitting something.

This world had eighty percent of its surface burnt and scoured by what hit them, a hand full of farming communities and the remains of one city being all that survived. In all, maybe a million Romulan civilians. Our scans of the planet showed remains of planet side shipyards and military complexes. What remained of the planetary government informed us that the planet was a supply world for Tal Shiar ships and families of their crews. It didn't matter to us, they were injured, and dying down there. Our shuttle bays emptied running supplies and were temporarily turned into mobile triage units. The shuttle bay became a spare ward, waiting to receive the incoming patients. This is when the storm of these events rained down upon us. Klingon birds of prey decloaked, giving warning shots to the regions around our ships bridge. The Captain was injured from a power conduit rupturing, the first officer left pretty dazed with a good head wound.

Shields were raised and weapons made ready; granted, our weapons were stripped down to just turrets that would require a good amount of concentrated fire to bring down another ships shields, or enough to do any damage to them. My medical team arrived on a smoke filled bridge, damaged consoles sparking and my lover laying near the command chair, unmoving. We got him and the first officer stabilized quickly, before sending them down to medical to get them on their feet as quickly as possible. The second in command was so green, she looked as though the next disruptor bolt to hit us would do her in. Growling to myself, I assumed temporary command until the Captain was on his feet again. It worked in my favor that I outranked, and had the most experience of anyone else on the ship.

Getting the Klingons on screen to talk was easy enough, a little prodding and their angry wing commander filled the view screen. He promptly declared himself the head of House Mal'tOgK, and that they where laying claim of vengeance upon the remains of the colony world. 
My reply, was every weapon the ship had firing at once upon his ship, as we put ourselves between them and the planet. Three birds of prey vs. us was not a favorable option, but we only had to hold them off long enough for help to arrive. Working on withering one bird of prey at a time down enough to inflict some damage, became a staggering wall to over come. Their weapons pounded into our shields and hull, my crew pleaded for use of more deadly force... I couldn't bring myself to the order, though... no lives taken under my watch. The order to only disable their ships stood.

We were holding on, reports of injuries piling up across the ship; engines were gone, shields were only a flicker of defense... the Klingon's weapon fire stopped. The Hopkins was heavily damaged; our shuttles had returned, taking up holding positions around the ship. The coms flicked back to life with a priority reply from Star Fleet command. The face of a smug admiral filling the screen, informed me that the Klingons agreed to hold their fire for the moment and would allow us to leave the system safely, but we were not allowed to render any help to the Romulan Colony. I won't bore you with the heated argument between this Admiral and myself, but his orders where relayed to the whole of the ship. Render no assistance to the Romulan colony, leave the system, and maintain our good relations with the Klingons. I told him to go to hell, and ordered battle stations with full deadly force. I knew, the crew knew, what would happen to those civilians if we let the Klingons by. Before the admiral could start saying anything else, he was removed from the screen. The bridge crew looked at me, a mixture of fear and questioning looks.

I hadn't noticed my mate... my lover, returning to the bridge. His strained voice cutting through to me, that voice I loved, telling me to stand down. I couldn't look back at him, I gave the order to fire. He shouted, 'Belay that order!' I ordered the crew to fire again, and again, he belayed me. I was enraged, my claws cutting into my palms; I hadn't turned to face him yet, to see his face. I looked ahead at the three birds of prey. They were damaged, a few good lucky hits would do enough to destroy maybe one, or at least disable them long enough. His voice was warning me to stand down to return to my station. I shouted at him....

'NO... WE ARE STAR FLEET, THEY CRIED OUT FOR OUR HELP; THEY ARE CRYING FOR HELP!' My voice calmed enough to speak firmly to the crew at hand, 'We do not turn our backs on those who cry out for help....'

'J'soph... my lo...' His sigh cut through me worse then my willingness to kill. 'Chief Medical officer J'soph, you are relieved of duty, we have our Orders and they will be followed. Return to your Quarters!'

I spun on him, coming to face him finally; finding a phaser shaking in his hand, aimed for me. There were no tears in his eyes, just the determination to follow orders to protect his command. 'No!... tactical fire on those ships...' His hand was shaking still when my voice cut out, pain flared through my head. I saw the phaser beam reaching out towards me... it filled my vision... then darkness.

I woke in transit to medical, one medic battered and bleeding pushing me along the hall on a hover bed. My rage took over everything; rolling up from the bed striking out, hitting him square. The poor kid hit the deck hard. He would be okay but I had to stop things; my thinking was not clear at this point, but it was focused enough to get me down to the Captain's Yacht. Not the best ship to go into a fight with, but she was armed as well as a runabout, so it would do. I had all the codes, the overrides and soon launched myself from the Hopkins.

The small craft turned in space lining up with the lead bird of prey; the Hopkins was thrusting out from orbit, their shuttles already docked. Emerald bolts of energy rained from the Klingon ships down to the planet. I lost it, phaser fire laced out from the Yacht, hammering into the lead bird of prey. Their shields buckled, most likely too weakened from the earlier fire fight. Its starboard wing tore away from the ship, sending it crashing into one of the wing ships. The third turned firing hard on me, my phasers streaking out to meet them head on. Their shields failed first, I was doing damage enough to make them peel away for a moment and cloak. I was already in bad shape when I took more fire, this time from the Hopkins. Shields failed, structural integrity was failing; engines flicked at best, leaving me caught in the planets gravity, losing orbit quickly.

The descent and damage done, left it difficult to beam me out if they tried, or if they even could still. The world went dark on me again. For how long, I really don't know... I woke a few times in the wreckage; screaming in the distance, flashes of emerald light, before darkness claimed my mind again.

The next time I opened my eyes, the world was silent; no flashes, no screaming... just one gruff voice telling me I was not allowed to die there. The visage of a Klingon I knew very well came into focus. My old ship's science officer, Groth. 'Come on, Captain, I didn't fly all this way to save your ass for you to die on me like this.' He was right, I couldn't die, not like that. 'Groth... am I dead... because you're one ugly mug to wake up to.... how bad is it?' His grin faded quickly, easing me up to rest against a bulkhead, or the remains of one.

'You seem to have taken a short range phaser hit to the eye; it had to have been on stun for you to live through it... but your eye is gone. The area around it is too damaged for any form of replacement. Most of your ribs are broken, along with both arms, and one leg is broken in multiple spots... could be worse, you could have lost that charming fur of yours.' I couldn't laugh, it hurt a little too much at that moment. Broken arm or not, I reached up, taking the badge from my chest. It was pretty burnt up, but held its shape still. 'I can't go back, Groth... Star Fleet... it's wrong, they have too much blood on their hands, and well, him... I think next time we meet, he will die.'

Groth got me off that planet, with a few unlucky souls who lived through the Klingon bombardment. It took some time but my health returned. I gained a new ship, a new crew, though I am no longer a Doctor, nor ever will be again. That died in me, my hope in Star Fleet died in me... love died in me. Now I am just what you see, one captain making ends meet for his crew in anyway that I can."

The table was silent for a long time; with the story finished, the drinks empty, and some faces looking grim. The young human's face looked the most shocked. J'soph stood, making for the door when his sleeve was pulled back. Turning on foot, the Caitian glared down at the human. His eyes were cold and hardened, though his lips moved still with a voice that surprised the old Captain, so much like his old lover's. That was what sparked recognition in his mind, the youth, even though sporting Captains pips, looked dead on for his old mate. "He's dead... he married, had a family... but upon learning you survived him shooting you... My father took his life soon after that." This young human, eyes cold still, began to shed tears. J'soph pulled his arm free before adjusting himself; his age had returned inside and out, showing the weathering of time and regret. The Caitian's lips started to move, but stopped when the youth spoke again; his words sharp and aimed well, "He still loved you... his last message to our family was his confession. He still loved you."

Coldness crept back into J'sophs veins again; replying before leaving the Captain's Table, "He died in my heart long ago; all he did was betray you and your family, because of guilt.” The door closed behind the Caitian captain in silence, the chill of his ship once more felt beneath him. A glance behind him, the edging of a tear that refused to fall. His body straightening, turning on heel, returning to the bridge.

( forgot the #WritingContest ))
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Edited June 22 2019 by Niko