General Chang

[The camera immediately comes to a snake with the crest of a rooster. It's in a cage and none too pleased about it.]

You will know this creature by the time you come to class. I will not be held responsible for your injuries if you do not.

[He usually makes that disclaimer and he tests it. If he doesn't receive satisfactory answer, he doesn't tend to come to student's rescue.

Care of Magical Creatures may seem the easy topic in other schools, but here? It's merciless.

[Christopher is still in his Klingon get up for the most part. The patch is off, but not much else. It's actually quite warm and comfy and the Klingon make up is hard to get off anyway. He's well known as an actor who genuinely enjoys his work, is giving to his colleagues and has multiple stories from the hilarious to the bizarre to the downright raunchy.

He's lived and it shows in how he's ready to roll with anything. Any pranksters who catch him off guard get belly laughs for their trouble and the nervous newbies get tips and hints and he seems endlessly patient. He makes it seem effortless.

Right now he's shuffling a pack of cards.] Well, now, we appear to be experience technical difficulties for the foreseeable, so how about a game of poker?

[He smiles.]

[Here is a woman with the most perfect of postures. She's Irving Braxton's wife but keeps her name as 'Chang'. She is not full of the Christmas spirit, though no one should expect this from her.] I would like to remind our esteemed neighbours that we are expected to continue living in our homes after the Christmas season and thus it is ill advised that we destroy it in the interim. [She's looking at you, Hoffman.]

[Private to Braxton.]

You will present yourself at dinner. I have a dish I wish you to try.

[ooc: Don't worry about replying, Farrah, if you're not up to it.]

[Kahless is facing the camera in an imperious manner and peering out at you. It's clear that he does not know where he is and this fact does not please him.] Where am I? And what is this... creature? [He points the camera down at K'Nera who is not amused with this turn of events. He turns the camera back to him.]

Speak and Kahless will hear you.

This month is the Klingon month Soo'jen or 'Glory'. It is perhaps fitting that I should meet my other self in such a month. He did glory to his people and those who he encountered upon those ship.

Each attempt to strip his Klingon honour away from him was repelled and he found honour in resistance. Honour here, I find, is thin on the ground. There are few enemies to fight, beyond those childish to believe that a tantrum against our Exalted Admiral will gain them points or fear is a valued weapon where amnesia is common and ennui more so.

Death has no meaning. And I mean not in the human sense of the meaning of death, yes, I see the oblivion as much as a human or Vulcan or Time Lord would, but it is a mere shutdown, not unlike what an AI might experience should you deactivate it, but that is not meaning.

It is so limited. It pays no respect to the life led before it, reducing it to mere automatic functions to be reset if it 'malfunctions'.

I have never felt the desire to simply vanish before I arrived in this place.

In that other ship, there were enemies. True injustices to be fought, honour existed in the hearts of those inmates, it made them strong, powerful. Vital. Each of their deaths had meaning. Each smile, each act of generosity, had meaning.

I share my former warden's enthusiasm [Enthusiasm, blood lust, same difference, right?] to return, if only to restore meaning to my own existence, regardless of the death stolen from me.

It has given me a purpose.

[Filtered away from Sexby]

I do not expect understanding on this matter. I can only say that a soldier forms an attachment to his weapon, it is part of his identity, to hold a weapon, to defend with it, to make it an extension of self. Sentimental perhaps, but nonetheless a strong feeling.

We all know of Sexby, of his crimes, but of the man beyond them. Perhaps this version is a unpolished man, one given to baser instincts but we know him, even if this youth has not known us.

I have thus deemed him suitable to bear a blade. I am no warden, but I am a general. A warrior does not wield a weapon carelessly, particularly in a place unknown to him. Do not remove it. I warn you only as a courtesy.

[Holds up an artifact.] Sharing your culture with the rest of us, Goddess? How kind.

[General Chang is still General Chang, if retired. Man has lived a full life to the service, lost an eye and had shrapnel disfigure him and retired to live in a nice quiet village with his NPC wife.]

It's been a while since we've had something of such colour in our town. Welcome newcomers. Tell me what of interest have you brought us?

[Those with in earshot of level 2, room 18 will hear the melodic sounds of a Klingon trashing his room, in the mess Chang's communicator gets knocked and active.

It's on its side and you can catch the odd glimpse of him pacing back and forth, muttering.

Then he spots the device, he charges forth and flings the communicator as hard as he can to the opposite wall. You can hear one word clearly growled before it fritzes out.]

!

[To those of you who understand Klingon, which actually pretty much amounts to: Data, that means 'revenge'.]

I am myself.