NationStates Jolt Archive

The kitchen of the Plaid House, home of the Prime Minister of The SLAGLands, was filled with boxes, each one meticulously labeled to designate its exact contents: [POTS], [FLATWARE], [SILVERWARE], and so forth. The furniture had already been set up, and a few elaborate wooden barstools had been placed (precisely equidistance from one another) at the bar at the far end of the kitchen. Two men sat at the bar: the first a bald gentleman in blue jeans and a deep brown T-shirt, the second a younger man, his black suit and tie matching his black shoes, black hair, and black sunglasses. Bodyguard Barry and Prime Minister Bonne Westerburg sipped imported Khenalan beer from long-neck bottles, both men with friendly smiles on their faces.

"The place is looking nice," Barry said, taking a slow sip. "Furniture's looking nice... family seems happy with it... you've fixed up a hell of a place here, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Yes, well, my wife is an interior decorator..." Bonne chuckled. He ran his left index finger along the lip of the bottle, staring down at it as he spoke. "Everything has been going so well for us lately. The people of The SLAGLands have done us a great service by affording us this opportunity; I pray we will not let them down." Licking his lips, Bonne took another long drink from the bottle before placing it back on the counter and folding his arms in front of him. "Now then, Barry... there's something you wanted to discuss?"

With a smile, Barry laid the bottle in front of him and turned toward Bonne, his expression plaintive. "The Ministry of State." Bonne's eyes lit up, and he nodded slowly. "Now, as we both know, this position is typically afforded to the runner-up in an election; however, I've noticed that I've heard... well... pretty much nothing from you. It is yours to make the nomination, and I just want to make sure you have your priorities straight here, considering that you may well be stalling the Tricameral..."

"Barry..." Bonne interrupted, placing a hand on Barry's shoulder, returning the plaintive look. "Janine Mendehlson will be assuming the role of Minister of State."

Barry's jaw fell agape. "Janine... Mendehlson. You're placing the SECOND runner-up in the position, breaking all traditions of The SLAGLands, essentially denying the people their decision."

"Barry, the people have voted for a regime change," Bonne said, folding his hands in front of him. "The people have decided that they are quite tired of the Marlena Cantrell/Bodyguard Barry docket. The time is right for a change, and unfortunately... that means that the people have pretty well insisted that the traditions change as well." Bonne turned back to his beer and held it to his lips, muttering, "And of course, there is the messy Il Adib matter..." before taking a sip.

Barry leaned toward Bonne, eyebrows low. "Please... what was that?"

Bonne lowered the beer with a smile. "Nothing, Barry! And, of course, you're more than welcome to take on your previous role as Chief of Security for The SLAGLandic Government... I always need a good bodyguard..."

Barry sat silently for a moment, scratching his chin. Then, at last, his face relaxed. With a grin, he raised his beer in a toast.

"No, Bonne..." he said gregariously. "The people have voted for a regime change, and I think I needn't sully myself by trying to fulfill their will anymore. I'm sure you'll find a Chief of Security who's just as qualified as I am." He took a long swig, downing the last of the bottle's contents, then wiped his lips with his sleeve. "In fact, this 'messy Il Adib matter' leads me to believe that... well... we aren't really welcome here anymore, are we, Bonne?"

"Barry, please..." Bonne said, making a downward motion with his hands for silence. Barry stood quickly, then slammed his beer against the counter.

"Sort this out how you will, Bonne. As for me... I'll no longer have a part of this regime--or even this country--while snakes like you are starting witch hunts for political gain."

With a huff, Barry stormed out of the kitchen. Bonne stood up behind him just in time to see Barry turn around in front of the door.

"Oh... thanks for the beer."

((OOC: *sticks a post-it note with tag on the thread*))

<tag with immense interest>

*Tag* and an official "stamp of awesomeness." http://207.44.246.95/147/67/upload/p931.gif

OOC: *Rams a large sword through the thread with a note tied to the handle "Tag"

Press Release to All Nations and All Citizens of The SLAGLands:

Here in The SLAGLands, we are fond of tradition. It binds us, it gives us a reason to press on, and it gives us the opportunity to look back and reflect upon our grand heritage. Sometimes, however, the quibbles of tradition can impose upon the will of progress. It is during this time when the chains of tradition may indeed become too heavy, and our options are either to lighten them or to fall under their weight.

It is for this reason that after due consideration, I have selected Janine Beatrice Mendehlson as my Minister of State. While Bodyguard Barry was indeed runner-up in the former election, he is not legally entitled to the role of Minister of State unless I, the Prime Minister of The SLAGLands, elect to place him in that position. Mr. Barry and I, however, have several glaring differences in policy that would cause us to clash too greatly, and as such, to have Bodyguard Barry as my Minister of State would essentially place the governmental processes of our great land at a standstill.

Ms. Mendehlson brings with her to the Ministry of State a formidable record as the mayor of one of The SLAGLands' largest cities, Orgla. Her changes within that city have been duly noted, and she is willing and capable of maintaining the duties of this high office. She is motivated to serving the people of The SLAGLands, and she will give her all to fulfill this great nation's needs.

Thank you all, and may the Great Camofrog bless you.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3448.gif
Bonne Gregor Westerburg
Prime Minister
The Emerald Heights of The SLAGLands


I'd like to thank Prime Minister Westerburg for affording me this unique opportunity to serve The SLAGLandic people. I vow to do everything in my power to maintain The SLAGlands as the wonderful nation that it is. It is, after all, not by my own power that I am in this position; it is by the authority of my hundreds of millions of bosses.

I won't let you down.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3450.gif
Janine Beatrice Mendehlson
Minister of State
The Emerald Heights of The SLAGLands

tag

<<THWAP>>

We have posted our intent to follow these developments as they unfold.

Stonozka, FSS, Titan

"So..." Razak folds his arms, frowning.

I'm not getting a good read on this. Doesn't bode well, given the growing anti-Il Adib sentiment in the SLAGLands. Alshai grimaces, fingers tapping on the biceps of his already-folded arms. What's our official response, Speaker?

The kzintosh leans back in his chair. "None as of yet. The SLAGLands are in a period of transition and we need them stable. We will not question their government... not openly, not yet." He looks over to the couch, where Shodey watches the SLAGLandic newsfeed with a curiously mixed expression. "How is he taking this, Shodey?"

She blinks momentarily. "I don't know. I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet." She frowns. "Probably not well."

"Cyng Eadwacer. SLAGlands has announced there selection of Minister of State. You might want to read this."


Eadwacer reads over the transcription of the announcement. "Most interesting. Tradition is very important, and whenever it is broken, is significant. This nation has a permenant bound and responsibility with Bodygaurd Barry ever since we hosted his wedding. We must keep abreast of this."

"And that's the report, Queenie." Tsume finishes reading off from the message.

"I don't like it... Barry was an excellent leader in the diplomatic scene... this entire thing just smells rotten." The orange reploid leans her elbows on her desk.

"So... what's the official response?" The reploid dragon inquires.

"None at the moment.... but invite Barry as a guest to Arpia. Shodey too, since they're married." The orange reploid frowns in deep thought. "There's something not being told here, and perhaps Barry is aware of it."

"You think there's civil unrest brewing? What with the sudden influx of nonhumans since the Outsets affair?"

"I'd like to think not, but people do tend to fear change, and the Outsets... brought a lot of that. You saw the poll results. It isn't a majority yet, but there was some support for an anti-Il Adib sentiment." Firefury scribbles a quick note. "Anyways, send this off- formal invite for Barry and Shodey to come have a vacation, under the excuse of finally taking me up on that offer to prank Nekoa Bay."

[Private communique to the following, hand written and delivered]

To: Prime Minister Bonne Gregor Westerburg
CC: Minister of State, Janine Beatrice Mendehlson

First and foremost, our congratulations on winning the election, and to Ms. Mendehlson on her recent assignment. We look forward to continued dealings with the SLAGLands, and hope that the future will hold as amicable a relationship as we have enjoyed in the past.

Now of course to our concerns. We are aware of the recent unfortunate unrest your noble nation has been experiencing, and we deeply sympathize. However, such focus and growing animosity to a certain sector of your populace brings back rather vivid images of a time long past, in nations quite different from our own. We urge you to act with wisdom, patience, and understanding during these trying times, and hope that whatever actions need be taken, are just ones.

I personally wish you the best of luck in your coming duties, and hope that you will avail yourselves of our support and assistance should such be desired.

With regard,

--Nathicana D'Aquisto of the Dominion


[Heavily encoded transmission, urgent priority]

Shodey -

What the hell is going on in the SLAGLands? Is Barry alright? How is he taking this? Dammitall I do not like where this is going at all. It smacks of the beginnings of Nazi Germany - and don't be telling me I'm thinking in extremes. It always starts small. You find a scapegoat, you blame them for all your problems ...

They're already changing their policies regarding the Il Adib on account of all that mess. And I still do not believe their stories on all of that. It feels too much like a conspiracy to me. An effort to discredit and lead into what I just laid out there.

I know damn well that's why Barry wasn't accepted, and there's not a one of you could convince me otherwise. We need to keep an eye on this, sis. And not just for him. This is a situation that could go real sour real fast.

Take care, mia sorella. Please, let me know anything you find out. And give that husband of yours a hug for me.

--Nathi

OOC: Assuming that nothing interferes with this message
IC:

A man dressed in light, ceremonial, leather armor and with the official crest of Freod upon his garb, arrives at the residence Bodyguard Barry and Shodan in The SLAGlands. He desires to hand deliver a message to Barry.

Wesan git hale, Hlaford Barry ond Cwen Shodan.

Ic hæbbe gehiren þæra incer ceara. Gemyndgod þæt git habbaþ freondes in Freod ond willaþ awa habban a ham in Freod.

Eadwacer, bearnes Garþeow, Mearclanda Þeoden, Freodes Weard, Titanes Eorl, Yutes Secg

Tag??? :wink:

*Doesn't Tag*

[Encrypted Data: Level 9]
::Classified- BIGOT::

To: SLAGLands (SL) Executive Branch Office
From: Tiburon (TI) Executive Branch Office

This recent shift in SLAGLandic tradition is noted with alarm. We would like to know the cause of such a radical shift in policy, believing it to be connected in some manner with Il Adib. Also, we would like to know whether this changes any policy in regards to the United Republics.

S.H.O.D.A.N. has been waiting by the front door of her SLAGLandic home for several hours now, awaiting her husband's return from business in SLAGTown. She wears a look of concern as her husband stomps in the front door, his hair a mess and his tie crooked. He appears quite vexed as he leans back against the door as it shuts behind him.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asks with an air of concern. With a nervous grunt, Barry powerwalks toward the bedroom, his wife close behind him.

"I'm not worried about that stupid election right now," he replies. "We need to get out of here."

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods quietly, following closely behind Barry. "Why do we need to leave?" Barry charges up the stairs, turning back as he speaks.

"It's Westerburg," he answers. The two of them turn into their rather large bedroom, the light already on. Barry hurries to the closet and flings it open with a flourish, removing a suitcase and tossing it onto the bed. He pops the suitcase open. "I get the impression he's up to something."

S.H.O.D.A.N. answers with a quick "Ah" before her eyes narrow and her voice turns cold, calculating. "A hunch?" Barry turns back from his business at the suitcase to his wife, his expression stolid.

"I get the impression that his choice not to nominate me for the position had less to do with my politics and more to do with... well..." With a sigh, Barry tosses his sunglasses into the suitcase to reveal his lack of eyes. "...what I am." Barry turns to the dresser and begins pulling open drawers, his wife assisting him all the while. "He may be jumping aboard the anti-Adib bandwagon just as quickly as everyone else is. Quite frankly, I'm not about to stand for it."

"Format him," S.H.O.D.A.N. says, handing her husband an armful of shirts. "If he can't see past a minor difference to the man who's defended his land for his entire life, that's his problem."

Barry answers with a grunt. "This whole thing reeks of conspiracy." He stuffs the shirts into the suitcase, forcing them down against his sunglasses and feeling their hard plastic strain against the pressure. "You know what his next bit is? Research on Il Adib children. The half-Adib who've been popping up in SLAGTown as of late? He's taking them into the lab. Studying them."

S.H.O.D.A.N. raises an eyebrow, her voice low. "There is evidence of this... right?"

Barry shakes his head. "I'm certain he knows that if anyone would look into this, it'd be you. Any evidence is going to be well-hidden--and I'm certain you'll find nothing on that dank pit that is SlagNet."

"Quite," S.H.O.D.A.N. responds, handing some pairs of socks to her husband. "I've done my share of nastiness in the past, and I'd like to ensure nothing like that happens again. Still... with the consent of the parents or no? That raises odd issues if consent is given."

"It's in the early stages now. Can't really say," Barry replies, going into the nearby restroom to grab some basic toiletries. "But the whole of SLAGTown is on edge, what with these attacks and all..." Barry pauses as he places the toiletries in the suitcase, then lowers his eyebrows. "And, of course, there's the matter of... Ortcan..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. winces slightly. "That's essentially my fault. Sorry."

Barry puts a hand on her shoulder with a reassuring smile. "You did what you had to do. He'd have killed Nathi if he had the chance, and I know he wouldn't have stopped there." He returns to the frantic packing as S.H.O.D.A.N. lets out a slow sigh.

"Just never gets easier for us, does it?" she grumbles. "Solve one problem, form another. Oh well... nothing to do but adapt." She opens another drawer. "You believe that we're not safe here?"

"I can't say at this point, but I think at the very least, it'd be a good idea to lay low," Barry replies.

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods. "Never hurts to be cautious. And I've gotten word from Arpia and Freod that we're welcome to visit there as guests. It's good to know we have friends we can rely on.

"No... not yet," Barry replies quickly. "I need to consult Mom before we do anything else. Maybe this little vacation of ours will take us to Freod and the Shogunate eventually, but our first stop is The Outsets." Barry huffs, closing the full suitcase and leaning against it. His voice drops as he hangs his head. "Geez... never thought this'd be happening... after the Outsets incident, I thought it'd be smooth sailing for me... but now..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. places a hand on Barry's shoulder and squeezes gently. "We'll manage." The two return to packing, grabbing another suitcase from the closet and filling with with blankets and pillows. "How quiet do I need to be about this? I'm sure the Scolopendrans would be interested if Bonne is planning anything... I could also check Sakura for information, unless you think she's in on it."

Barry shakes his head. "Sakura's not in on it. No way in hell. And even if she is being manipulated by Biddlebaum, he'd have nothing to gain." Barry looks up, getting his thoughts back together. "Keep it as quiet as possible. I'd rather not create an international scene when we may just be dealing with a lapse of judgment. I'd rather the First Among Equals not find out at this point. This is, after all, a transitionary phase..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods. "Understood. They are concerned about you, at least. I'll tell them that you're doing well enough as can be expected under the circumstances and leave it at that."

"Good idea," Barry replies, trying desperately to stuff an unfolded sheet into the suitcase before Shodey gracefully withdraws it and, in a display of incredible efficiency, folds the sheet to the size of Barry's hand and passes it to her husband with a wink. "If anyone asks... just taking a vacation. I'll let the Cantrells know what's going on. We can trust them.

"Shall I bring a security detail?" S.H.O.D.A.N. asks with a nod.
.
I doubt we'll have anything to fear in The Outsets," Barry replies, snickering. But if you'd feel better doing so, it's up to you."

"You know me. Two kinds of paranoia..." S.H.O.D.A.N. answers with a shrug. "At least a rapid-extraction option."

"Not a bad idea," Barry says, returning to the bathroom for more supplies. "Of course, if you want to keep an avatar here in The SLAGLands, I won't stop you."

"I'll do so, if nothing else but to keep up a liason presence," S.H.O.D.A.N. replies. Barry returns, throws a few more random items in the suitcase, and slams it shut, shaking his head.

"I'm so sorry about all of this," he sighs. "Seems like my life is nothing but drama, I swear..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. hugs Barry gently, saying nothing for a moment. "Think of it as an adventure."

Barry returns the hug with a gentle squeeze. "Yeah... I suppose," he mutters. "Well, hopefully, things will pan out for the best. They have a tendency to around here. Westerburg may have just been bluffing to me--you know, just one of those attempts to sidle toward popular mindset."

S.H.O.D.A.N. nods, forcing a smile. "Besides, it's been forever since you've allowed yourself a vacation."

Barry snickers, grinning mischievously. "Perhaps a pranking is in order while we're out..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. grins back with an impish chuckle. "I think Firefury's offer is still standing..."

Barry taps his fingers together, Mr. Burns style. "Eeeeeeeeeexcellent..."

S.H.O.D.A.N. grins, then picks up the suitcase and tosses it to Barry. The bodyguard catches it deftly and forces it under his arm. "Well, we can't walk on water, so I'll heat up the Shodeyvette."

"I'll call the Cantrells," Barry replies, calling back to his wife as she darts toward the door. "Thanks for putting up with me."

S.H.O.D.A.N. chuckles. "Never a problem, dear." She then disappears to the door frame as Barry stumbles for the telephone.

HIGHLY Private, HIGHLY Secure, HIGHLY Unhackable (Regardless of 1337ness) Transmission to the Following Friends ONLY:
Dread Lady Nathicana d'Aquisto
Queen Firefury Amahira
Omicron Blu
Supreme Emperor Speaker-to-Animals
Cyng Eadwacer
Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor
Xeruyu vonKarma

In light of the stresses in my life as of late, Shodey and I have decided to take an unexpected vacation to my homeland, The Outset Islands. The Cantrells will be housesitting for us, so don't try to contact the house.

Please don't call unless it's absolutely necessary, but if you really need to, I'm sure you all have S.H.O.D.A.N.'s number.

Take care, everyone. And don't worry about us. We'll be just fine.


Your dearest friend,

Bari (Bodyguard Barry)

--Nathi
<Communications to Nathi via Local Avatar Transmission, close range hyperencrypt>
{
<< I'm sure you've gotten the note--we're going on a "vacation" [wink analog]--and yes, sis, I'm looking after him. I've gotten him to at least allow me to set up a rapid-extraction contingency, which I haven't told him means a six-Shadow team and one of my more secret vessels.

<< I don't think there's a threat to us from Westerburg--it would be foolish, horrendous PR--but I don't think your fears are entirely unfounded. I don't like the looks of this either; stories of "violence" among other things is one of the reasons my people are now on the cold face of Rhea.

<< Don't worry about us, we'll be fine. I'm flying Barry to the Outsets right now and I'll keep you updated as we settle in and as I find out more for certain.

<< Another thing... if you find out anything in particular about Westerburg or any new SLAGLandic 'policies,' tell me but otherwise keep it to yourself. I'll explain why to you in person.

<< Take care, sis.
}

http://community.the-underdogs.org/smiley/celeb/shodan.gif
Shodey

* - * - *

Leaning over the small center console of the Shodeyvette, the EI's avatar gives Barry a tight hug. "From Nathi."

Imperial Palace, Kaer Askavii
Cetaganda, The Ring, Saturn Nearspace

Gregor Vetinari looked up from his perscomp. "I don't like this at all. Some of the rumors ring too true, given the supposed incidents with the children in SLAGTown."

Across his desk, Eloise Savanche, head of the Special Cirumstances Directorate, nodded. "I thought so as well. But we can't find anything concrete on SLAGNet, and while SHODAN is far more skilled than even our best intelligence Minds, if she had something I'm sure she'd share it. We need a way to get evidence of wrongdoing, or lack thereof, another way."

"You want permission to insert operatives, I suppose?" asks Gregor, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, my lord. Nothing to big, but if we start now, we could have a few people in place in case we need them later."

"I agree. I'll run it by Shodey and Barry first, though." Gregor activates his desk keyboard, grimmacing. "Gods, I hope that I wasn't wrong in supporting Westerburg."

---
{Internal Palace Communications, m16 Securtity Protocols}
x Gregor
o Local SHODAN Avatar

Shodey, I've been hearing some rumors regarding Westerburg's policies towards the Il Adib in the SLAGlands. I thought it might be best to put in some human operatives. Nothing too fancy, just try to get a person or two inside now in case they're needed later. I'd like you to run this by Barry and see if he has any advice on how best to do it, as he was head of SLAGLandic security. Unless, of course, you think he might have personal objections to doing so; I'd rather not ask him to do anything that might be seen as betraying the SLAGLands if you think he'd have problems with it.

Top Secret Transmission
TO: Lady Nathicana
FROM: Robert of Estalia

My dearst Nathi;

I note developments in the SLAGLands with concern. It would not be at all helpful to any of us if Westerburg were to go off the deep end. The Pope is simply going off his hat over this - I doubt he realizes it doesn't affect him in the least (yet).

It's very hard for a Foreign Secretary to be credible when he has no idea as to what his advice to his master should be, and as the Prime Minister is more interested in programmes for the homeless, I turn to you for advice on our response.

Your servant and admirer,
Robert, Duke of Estalia

***

Top Secret Transmission
TO: B.G. Westerburg
FROM: The Papal Palace

Monsieur Westerburg;

His Holiness enquires as to the validity of the recent "upgrades" to democracy made in the Minister of State affair.

Whilst we are loath to question the actions of a nation we have been on good - if slight - terms with, we find it intriguing that a man such as Bodyguard Barry, who has served his country excellently throughout his life, and who, in our opinion, would present no obstacle to the running of the country, has been barred from state.

If we could contact him directly,, would ask him such questions instead. But we are eliciting no response from the address we have for him. His Holiness is also very intrigued as to why this is.

written on behalf of
Pope Kes

"Well, we've got a heavily encrypted message- Barry is taking a vacation at the Outsets." Tsume hands Firefury the message.

"Yeah, that would make sense, checking in with the folks before travelling abroad." The orange reploid frowns. "Well, not much else to do now but wait and watch. Even if things do go to hell in a handbasket, we've already taken on almost more than we can handle with the Um Lizaan extraction."

"Well, if it came to that, I imagine the Il Adib would return to the Outsets... and I suspect between the Il Adib and the Brethren, the islands are well defended." Tsume reads through some reports.

"True enough. Shimeki willing this whole thing is just a hiccup in policy and not signs of something worse." Firefury sighs. "Though I'm expecting the worst automatically. That way I can be pleasantly surprised."

Monsieur Westerburg;

His Holiness enquires as to the validity of the recent "upgrades" to democracy made in the Minister of State affair.

Whilst we are loath to question the actions of a nation we have been on good - if slight - terms with, we find it intriguing that a man such as Bodyguard Barry, who has served his country excellently throughout his life, and who, in our opinion, would present no obstacle to the running of the country, has been barred from state.

If we could contact him directly,, would ask him such questions instead. But we are eliciting no response from the address we have for him. His Holiness is also very intrigued as to why this is.

written on behalf of
Pope Kes

Transmission to Pope Kes of Milantos:

The reason for my selection for the Minister of State position was clearly stated in a previous press release. If you contact Barry, you will receive the same answer. While Barry has indeed served The SLAGLands well, he will not well fit into this current regime.

Please... I ask the world to drop this issue and allow us to get back to "politics as usual" during this difficult transitionary period.

http://invisionfree.com/forums/WMNK_Coalition/index.php?act=Attach&type=post&id=3448
Bonne Gregor Westerburg
Prime Minister
The Emerald Heights of The SLAGLands

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, elsewhere...

<Communications to The Triumvirate of Yut via Local S.H.O.D.A.N. Avatar Transmission, close range hyperencrypt>
{
<< S.H.O.D.A.N. and I have arrived on The Outset Islands. The Shodeyvette is being kept in The Outsets' sole shipyard, and we are taking up temporary residence in one of the small inns on Het Amid, the nation's capital. This transmission, however, is being sent from one of the caves beneath Het Amid for security purposes, as I will soon explain.

<< As most of you probably guessed, the reasons for my leaving The SLAGLands for a "vacation" were far more complicated than simple exhaustion. Furthermore, as I have explained to Shodey, they were far more complicated than a simple rise in Adib-related paranoia.

<< I dare not expound in this transmission for fear of those in The SLAGLands realizing precisely what I know, but there are forces at work in my former home that have personal interest in mind above all else, men who are driven not by the will to serve, but by the force that, in the long run, drives The SLAGLands: money. It is because of money--and indeed because of what I now know--that a warrant will soon be issued for my arrest by The SLAGTown Police Department.

<< The safest way for me to expound on this information is in person, and the safest place for me to expound on it is here, in The Outset Islands. Should I leave these islands, I will no doubt raise the ire of those on the mainland and unwittingly set into motion what I truly fear is bound to happen. Another danger, however, is that arrivals from Yut will be looked upon with equal suspicion, and as such, we must avoid making any sort of scene at all costs.

<< My mother, Esmerelda, has suggested that representatives from Yut arrive in Het Amid via a routine commercial flight from Eniqcir, the nearest Yut nation to The SLAGLands. I'll leave the particulars of your arrival or that of your subordinates up to the wise leaders of Yut, but it is of utmost importance that there is not a sudden influx of Triumvirate of Yut vessels--or most likely, unexpected vessels of any sort--on The Outsets.

<< I apologize for requesting such unusual measures be taken, but you all know me well enough to realize that I would not be taking these measures were I not confident that it's pivotal my message gets out.

<< I await your arrival.
}

http://invisionfree.com:54/40/9/upload/p1166.jpg
Bari

OOC: I'm going to assume this happens on the last day of Siri's Puerto Rico vacation, given that I'd like to get the full value out of that thread too.

IC:

Sirithil was, still, trying to relax on a Puerto Rican beach when an aide, sent from the Gilthoniel, brought her a dispatch, Eyes Only, unopened. Siri peered at it... like all such Menelmacari dispatches, it was a lucite slab, sealed, six inches by four inches by a quarter inch, and there was a flexisheet folded within, such that it could not be read. Origin, destination, and classification were inscribed in the upper surface. She wasn't exactly sure how it came over the line folded and sealed that way, but some engineer had devised a method, and so it was done. The container itself was low-tech, it was true. But sometimes, the oldies were the goodies; such a physical sealing was, for the most part, for all the encryption in the world, the only way to be absolutely certain a message got to its intended recipient unopened. She thanked the aide with a smile, then examined the dispatch carefully for a moment.

SLAGlandic Secured Non-Governmental Communication
Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
Elentári Sirithil nos Fëanor
Infrared-Prime Classification, Eyes Only

Sirithil arched one eyebrow; a non-governmental comm? Classified infrared-prime? Near unprecedented, that. She snapped the lucite in half, pulling the sheet out, and unfolding it, and read carefully. Barry was in some heap of trouble, it appeared... she read on. Corruption... betrayal... intrigue. And a trip to the Outsets. Via Eniqcir... she wrinkled her nose in abject distaste. Well... for a friend...

Yes. She would go.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/sirithil/sirithilnosfeanor.gifLady Sirithil nos Fëanor
Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
Regent of Lavenrunz
"We have known freedom's price. We have shown freedom's power. We will see freedom's victory."
~US President George W. Bush
We Love the Iraqi Information Minister (http://www.welovetheiraqiinformationminister.com)
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Firefury's quarters, Imperial Palace, Arpia

"......... I hate it when I'm right." The orange clad reploid paces. "So... mission is to get somebody to the Outsets all sneaky and ninjalike, eh?"

"Seems so, Queenie." Tsume lies comfortably on the floor, tail curled around his armored form. "Commercial flights from anywhere would attract unwanted attention- outside of the Shogunate, reploids stick out like a sore thumb- if we send anyone, they will be watched."

"So we'll just have to go a different route. No commercial flights, no personal ships...." Firefury muses. "All sneaky and ninja is gonna hafta be it." She brings up a map of the Emerald Heights. "It'd be a moderately long flight by commercial-"

"... Ytorla."

"Eh?" Firefury pauses and glances at the black and purple reploid dragon, who hops to his feet with the clack of talons on the hard floor. "Ytorla? What's that got to do with any.... thing........." Realization appears to smack her upside the head. "Still got it in you then? The Outsets are a lot farther to go than Ytorla was."

"It would take me a few days steady flying, but I could hop a ride in a routine Yotaka drone's bomb bay." Tsume runs one talon along the map. "That could get me well out over international waters, where I could then be dropped.... along with routine oceanic monitoring bouys.... after which I could glide a large part of the way- Dragonis models are small enough that they look mostly like a large bird if they come up on radar at all- and I could easily fly extremely low on final approach and get in under radar. My dark colored armor would be difficult to spot against the water."

"Crazy enough that it just might work.... And we can get another Dragonis who looks enough like you to do an appearance with me... maybe at the Um Lizaa camp or something, so the Slaglandic mainland thinks yer still here..." Firefury bursts into a fit of laughter. "Geez, here we are plotting stealth ops just like the old days! Go let Shodey's local avatar know, wouldya? That way they don't have to plot to sneak a reploid dragon from point A to point B!"

Tsume mock-salutes as he heads for the door. "As you command, Lady Shogun Eternal-" He ducks his head as Firefury's helmet sails through the air where the dragon's head had been a moment before.

"You know I hate formal titles!"

"Hai, hai." Tsume chuckles. "I'll go let Shodey know."

<As relayed by S.H.O.D.A.N.>

I will be there.

--Tuyc-Tass'kin (Speaker-to-Animals)

Top Secret Transmission
TO: Lady Nathicana
FROM: Robert of Estalia

My dearst Nathi;

I note developments in the SLAGLands with concern. It would not be at all helpful to any of us if Westerburg were to go off the deep end. The Pope is simply going off his hat over this - I doubt he realizes it doesn't affect him in the least (yet).

It's very hard for a Foreign Secretary to be credible when he has no idea as to what his advice to his master should be, and as the Prime Minister is more interested in programmes for the homeless, I turn to you for advice on our response.

Your servant and admirer,
Robert, Duke of Estalia


My dear Duke, how delightful to hear from you, though surprising nonetheless. Advice, you seek? I am of course flattered. Still, in this particular situation, I'm afraid I know as little as you. I would advise caution, as always, in dealing with the new regime. The unknown should always be treated carefully, don't you think? If you happen to turn up anything in your research of the situation, please do not hesitate to contact me, and I of course, will return the favor.

May fortune smile on you and yours,

--Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion

---------------------------------

"Dammit ..." Nathicana came up with a few rather choice phrases under her breath as she went over the message from Barry, noting again his choice of spelling on his name.

This just smacks of trouble ... and with everything else that's gone on ... Still, he's family. That thought brings the hint of a smile to her face.

"Else, get me Marik, Pellegrino, and Pacci in here, pronto. And have the car brought around. I'll be needing it soon."

While she waits to brief the others .......

<via highly encripted line>

Of course I'll come. I want to get to the bottom of this, Bari. Please, be safe.

--Nathi

James Seal burst into the Office of the Prime Minister, a look of great urgency on his face.

Andrew, busily speaking with the Minister of Finance and a representative of the Gambling Conglomerate, took one look at his brother, and nodded to the two men in front of him. "Thank you, gentlemen, I believe that will be all."

The two men, somewhat startled at being interrupted, did not question the Prime Minister, and merely nodded and left.

Andrew glanced to his brother. "I hope this is important, those two men have been waiting weeks to meet with me and they're going to be somewhat upset th--"

"It is important. Pack your bags. We're heading to Eniqcir."

"Eniqcir? Why?"

"The situation is...delicate. I will explain."

Eadwacer stands over the the communication computers in a cave near the winhal. He is only summoned there in person for the most important of messages.

"I hate sneaking around like a wulf. This is not the way of a warrior. But, I am needed, and I trust Secg Bari." He turns to an page by his side. "Fetch me Ecgþeow at once, and prepare at once my ship for travel. I shall gather clothes, and inform Cwen Wealþeow that she will rule this nation until my return. I have gone off to investigate the rumors of a grendel on our far borders, and must do it alone."

Eadwacer and Garþeow quickly stand ready with common page clothing in their possesions, along with a very small complement of weapons, all common looking and not royal. The ship blasts off into the night in the direction of Scolopendra.

===============================
Message from: Unferth
Message to: Scolopendran Travel Agencies
Encryption level: Standard Commercial

2 Tickets required from capital of Scolopendra to capital of Eniqcir at earliest opportunity. Ceremonial weapons to be checked, none brought on board. Please directly debit the Unferth account at the central bank of Freod the appropriate amount.
===============================

"Interesting, this."
"Hm. Is it really a good idea to get involved in this? I mean, with the Bhraoínë situation...."
"Don't worry 'bout it. We needn't do anything abort transport of foriegn dignitaries, it is supposed to be commercial. And we may as well send an observer, at least."
"The question is, who would draw the least suspicion on a commercial flight to the Outsets? Someone who wouldn't be recognized...."
"Lady Solitaire?"
"Neasa? You've got to be kidding. She's barely sixteen!"
"Hey, we let Aidean go to that Treznor thing."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. She can handle it, probably. I just hope she's civil... didn't get the nickname Solitaire for nothing."
------------------------------------------------------------
Feeling quite dejected, Mistress Neasa found herself riding the maglev to the Easterness International Airport.

"I'm going, and that's final. End of story. His Imperial Highness has Spoken. Besides, I've bought the tickets already and there's no refund." Gregor Vetinari gazed calmly across his desk, meeting the glare of the head of his military.

Said person, Lady Martial Signy Mallory, was not in a good mood. "Its insane. We can't have you running off on some commercial liner all the way to Earth, alone and unescorted."

"Its not that bad. I'll even take a warship as far as Veritas Station, then take a commercial dropship to Eniqcir."

"Can't I convince you to at least take a few armsmen?"

"Nope. Its not as if it would be that dangerous. I'm not Sirithil nos Feanor, with a good portion of the planet wanting to either kill me or mob me for an blessing. Furthermore, I think the combat systems of my implants, Changeling, and a few good levin bolts will be sufficient to deal with a hypothetical mugger."

"I assume you'll still take appropriate precautions?"

"Of course. I paid from one of my secondary accounts, glamours to keep people from recognizing me, pretty much the same things Kyle and I did for that little...err....trip when I was seventeen. It took Special Circumstances, what, three weeks to find us?"

Mallory sighs, and shakes here head. "Don't remind me."

----
As they speak, a page hand delivers a note to the palace SHODAN avatar.

SHODAN, please tell Barry I'll be there.
-Gregor

Nathicana stood looking over the results of her efforts in a long mirror. Not bad ... ought to be enough, I think.

Her long hair had been put back in a simple unadorned french braid under the fatigue cap she'd worn on safari. The matching multi-pocketed loose pants she'd worn there, now showing definite signs of wear and several stains that had never really come out, were borrowed from that trip as well. A dingy white t-shirt, tucked in at the waist, and over that, a multi-pocketed vest, also looking rather ragged, and her old hiking boots finish the outfit. Taking out a pair of cheap but serviceable sunglasses, and strapping on a decidedly manly sports watch, she grabs her standard dufflebag and heads towards the door.

Marik of course, was already waiting, similarly attired in nondescript khakis, and a faded denim shirt over an off-white tank.

"I don't like this," he said with a scowl. "Commercial flight means no weapons on hand, and after that Ball fiasco ..." He let the thought sit with her for a moment.

"I know, I know. But we're doing this of necessity. We'll pick up what we need in Eniqcir or the Outsets. No one is going to suspect me taking this sort of trip, especially after the Ball fiasco, and our IDs are watertight, 'Antonio'. Besides, I can take care of myself," she said firmly, then shot him an impish grin. "And I have you to back me up. What could possibly go wrong?"

The flat look he gave her spoke volumes. "What indeed," he replied, swinging his own bag up over his shoulder, and with a mock bow, indicating she should lead the way.

Pacci was already at the car, pacing and muttering to himself, looking oddly distracted. Several boxes of his usual archaeological equipment were being loaded into the trunk by the driver. At their approach, he looked up, straightening his jacket, and taking off his fedora.

"My Lady, Marik," he began with a little bow to Nathicana.

"Pacci, you're going to have to get over that if this is going to look right," she said with a wry grin. "We're your assistants, remember? And it's 'Elena Amici', and 'Toni Riano'. Just act like you would with any other." At his scandalized look, she assured him. "And no, I won't hold anything you say against you. You have my word. Hell, try to at least have fun with it, hmm?"

"I ah ... well, that is to say ... o-of course," he manages, putting his hat back on and again, straightening his jacket out of nervous habit. His mind was elsewhere, toward the end of their little trip, and focused not so much on the reason behind it as the object of his distraction - the Goddess Esmerelda.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away ...

Pacci shook his head, motioning for the others to get in the Bentley. "Lets get this over with," he muttered.


(ooc: Let me know what all we needs ta post in getting to the Outsets. I'm assuming we're traveling pretty standard, two of us under assumed names that the Dominion will of course back up entirely, complete with background checks if requested.)

Nothing particularly stands out from the air about the Cherubim Wing International Airport, the only airport on the Outsets. It's fairly small, a few simple airstrips on the plateau that comprises the better part of the island's northern tip. There is little traffic, mostly consisting of visiting tourists, as the islands rarely welcome dignitaries due to their largely isolationist policy.

Those stepping off of the plane, however, notice quite a different story within the terminals of the airport. Il Adib seem to operate every area of the airport, some clad in suits and ties, some wearing casual clothing, still others completely nude, all distinguishable only by the deep blue caps that set them apart from the clientelle (who themselves are quite an unusual lot, a bizarre mixture of race and even species that gives the airport the appearance of some sort of science fiction novel).

There are no roads outside the terminal, only a few paths more slightly worn than the rest of the yellow dirt of the plateau. These paths are worn--as the onlooker will observe--not by any sort of motorized vehicle, but by beasts of burden. Some more traditional animals--horses, mules, and the like--make up the majority of the unyoked creatures, but the more curious sight are the carriages, which seem to serve as taxis. These are pulled by large, quadripedal crustacean-like creatures, each one about four feet tall and ten feet wide. Small, flat faces stick forth from the front of their shells, which are covered with hook-like formations--the perfect places to yoke the creatures. Their legs are robust, and those pulling the carts across the plateau maintain a respectable speed.

The carriages are all fluctuating with regard to their inhabitants, but one remains in place. An Adib servant in a grey T-shirt and blue jeans stands outside the elaborate carriage, which is most certainly not a taxi but a private coach. The Adib is carrying a crudely-written white sign bearing the words "LEANDRO PACCI (AND ASOSEEYUTS)" in crude Sharpee marker. In the back of the carriage sits a woman in a purple Victorian-style dress, a matching wide-brimmed hat covered in flowers shielding her face from the crowd.

(OOC: The fancy carriage is for the folks from the Dominion, in case that wasn't clear. The rest of y'all are going to have to rough it on the taxis.)

Pacci takes the lead, hurrying along his two 'assistants' who happen to be carrying all the luggage. The quiet, reserved assistant who seems to be made of stone, he's so responsive. He stays rather close to the woman, for some reason seeming protective of her, though she doesn't seem to notice. Pacci rubs his hands nervously, often muttering to himself in his native tongue, while the woman looks around with interest, occasionally asking a quiet question or two.
All the varied races and peoples are a bit of an eye-opener. Some are recognized, others not ... all are carefully observed as the three make their way through the crowds.

On the outside, they all take in the rustic setting with varying reactions. The younger man doesn't seem to change demeanor at all, the woman, smiles delightedly, pointing out the carriages with a curious expression, again, asking questions that Pacci has no answer for at present. He, for his part, seems to relax somewhat, until he sees the Il Adib with the sign, and the ornate carriage waiting for him.

His breath catches as his eyes fall on the woman sitting gracefully within it.

"Il dio," he breathes quietly, quite literally stopping in his tracks, causing the woman to bump into him with a muttered curse and a quick glare, rather out of character for an assistant.

"Maledizione, Pacci - what the hell is your--" She cuts off and moderates her tone and expression at a jab in the ribs from the other man, who looks for all the world as if he'd not noticed a thing. Finally looking up, she arches a brow at the carriage and its occupant. "Well, lets not keep our hosts waiting," she mutters quietly, her lips hardly moving, locked in a forced smile.

The three move forward, 'assistants' loading the luggage where appropriate as Pacci climbs up into the carriage, unsure quite where to sit, and fumbling over his words.

"M-my lady," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to hide their fidgeting.

Is it her? Il mio angelo della tolleranza e della bellezza, viene interrare?

Nathicana tells her companion to finish up with the loading as she goes back to retrieve the last of the equipment being used for cover. As she wends her way through the crowd, she catches sight of a familiar, unmistakeably furry form, and smiles broadly. Walking with her cap pulled down, as she had been through the trip, her dark glasses on, she heads his way.

"Speaker," she says when finally close enough.

Speaker-to-Animals stalks through the terminal with long strides, following the number one rule of not looking like a tourist: don't gawk. Dressed in a white T-shirt (which, due to his frame, automatically becomes a muscle shirt) under a black leather jacket and rather faded and battered denim jeans, he looks like some kzin version of a thug from an earlier era. Hearing Nathi, his ears twitch and he looks over his shoulder non-chalantly. "Pardon?"

Nathicana looks up, sliding her glasses down a bit with a mischievous little smile. "Fancy seeing you here," she says. "We've a ride outside. Care to accompany?"

Speaker half-smiles, turning up one side of his mouth, and chuckles softly. "Of course. Travel is always better with a friend."

"Excellent, mi amico. Just let me grab this thrice-damned equipment," she says, shifting her glasses back, and moving over to the last couple cases they'd left in the care of an attendant, and picking them up effortlessly. "Truth is, I'm rather glad to see you," she admits. "And not just on account of the recent goings on here."

"Any particular reason?" Speaker asks, watching Nathi take the cases before continuing with a wink. "Anything I can help with? Looks better if the large one carries the load."

Nathi pauses, curses softly under her breath, and nods. "I am not used to this 'incognito' business," she says, reluctantly handing over the larger of the two cases with a wry smile. "Bene grazie. We're here with Pacci, under the premise of continued exploration and scientific study. Admit though, that I've missed the more casual attire." She walks on for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "As for reasons ..." Looking around, she nods.

"Just call me Tuyc, ma'am." Taking up the case, he notes that Nathi's augs must be rather good. "Lead the way."

Nathicana smiles. "Elena," she says in return, walking on as indicated. "I've just had some interesting talks of late, that well ... I thought you might want to hear about."

Speaker nods, following Nathi and carrying the case lightly. "I am always interested in hearing what you have to say."

"I'm certain you're aware of ... business dealings with certain parties that traditionally have been on the less than friendly list, yes?" She keeps her voice low enough for relative privacy as they make their way through the crowd, looking as casual as can be.

The kzintosh sighs very softly, letting that speak for him.

Nathicana steels herself a bit, nodding briefly. "I realize such things probably have not sat very well with yourself and others, and for that, I apologize. I've done what I thought best under the circumstances, and truth, it has put me in a rather unique position." She pauses, letting that sit before continuing. "One might even say beneficial."

"Then Garbo was right and I acted correctly. Say on, t'kzintar-tzobu."

Nathi arches a brow at that. "I'd often wondered," she says, nodding at what she sees as a confirmation. "I believe a conflict to be coming. I feel it wise that my allies are made aware so as to be better able to respond in the wisest manner."

"I have seen it as well. What information do you have?"

"It is no secret that domination is the agenda of that power, and with the shifts in power and such in the world, it seems that such interests have been rekindled. Those petty dictators who banded together in a blustering alliance, and the religious zealots seem to have drawn attention. As well as one whom we once called ally ... and recently sent the gift of fruit to." She can't keep the smile from her lips at that, despite the topic.

Speaker-to-Animals nods. "That is my motive in our new relationship, to keep the cheese-eaters from making a mistake. We are also forming times with those who have been Elsewhere... this threat must be contained."

"My efforts in that direction have been rather richly rewarded," she muses, "as were those of the emissaries I sent. We shall see how that progresses. As for the other, I sensed boredom on their behalf. A longing for the 'old days' of conquest and challenge. I can't help but see this as a dangerous thing at best. They also see one of our allies as being 'compromised' as they put it. Our Regina della stella has misstepped, as I see it."

"It is not the first time. It will not be the last."

"Arrogance," she says quietly as they walk, she slowing her pace to allow more time. "It affects both our allies and our opponents. It is believed that their influence is spreading. Their eventual superiority is a foregone conclusion in their eyes. And they see our group as growing weak, overburdened with too many parts for the core to keep watch over. They are gathering their strength, and quietly."

"What gives them the impression we are weak?" Speaker slows to match, looking around no more than necessary to maintain a vigilant situational awareness.

"My actions, for one. They see my simple business transactions with them as a sign that things are not being watched. I believe the phrase was thus: 'They've growm altogether too large. They cannot afford to meddle in the affairs of their member-states.' There seems to be the perception that there has been an effort to subjugate members, as it is with their own organization." She chuckles softly at that, shaking her head.

"If you can profit from them, that is a benefit to us." Speaker smiles quietly, eyes squinting with a slyness not often seen. "We will have to maintain that image. What else do you know?"

"I may know many things, mi amico," she says with a sidelong glance. "What I do know is that at present, I am seen as a valuable 'friend' on account of my limited dealings. As I said, a very unique position within our little gathering." Here she becomes more serious. "I also know who my friends truly are. It has been a lesson long coming, but grasped quite firmly. I'm glad you approve, Tuyc, as I plan to encourage this image I have created, albeit carefully."

Speaker nods. "This is a lot to ask from you, Elena. Thank you."

Nathicana laughs softly. "Ask from me? It is a situation of my own making, as you well know. As yet, you've asked nothing, and have yourself never been asked before actions were taken. If anything, I should be thanking you for your unwarranted trust. Or rather, trust freely given without reason."

Speaker-to-Animals chuckles. "Do you not know? That is what we do. It is a risk we take out of idealism. This time, it pays off."

"After such happenings as our circle has endured over the past while, I am still ... surprised. Such trust has not always been repaid in kind."

The kzin shrugs his broad shoulders slightly. "Win some, lose some."

Nathi nods. "Still ... bene grazie," she says quietly. In a more firm voice, she continues. "Know this. I have people who will be going to recieve instruction with the dark ones. I also have agreed to accept the complete lift of trade tarriffs on my goods. My other group has been offered this as well, though I do not yet know their answer. I believe that is all I have at the moment of relevance.

"There was the hint of possible action against the other group, though we have known for some time that we faced the danger of such. I'm unsure yet whether that was a veiled warning, or the simple observation it seemed," she trails off as they reach the outside, glancing over at the carriage across the way.

Speaker nods succinctly, indicating his understanding. "Acknowledged and understood. I assume we are taking that one there?"

Nathicana nods, assuming once again a more neutral expression. "That we are. Ma...Antonio and Pacci are already waiting, as is our guide, I suppose, though I'd not yet had a chance to hear her name."

Speaker-to-Animals manages to look nearly jovial, but, given his features, it can be hard to tell. He is chuckling at least. "Do you think I will fit?"

Nathi looks over with a smile. "It's a large carriage, mi amico. Antonio could always sit with the luggage, after all." She wriggles her brows impishly. "And I suppose, if neccessary, I could take a lap ..." This is delivered with an entirely straight face, though her shoulders shake a little from silent laughter.

Speaker chuckles. "Whatever works best. I am simply along for the ride."

"Well then, lets get to it. We may as well enjoy the ride. I'm afraid we have unpleasant business to attend to here." Her laughter fades, and she takes on a more contemplative demeanor again.

Speaker-to-Animals frowns. "True, but that is irrelevant when helping a friend. Let us get to it, as you say."

Nathicana nods, making her way to the luggage rack without further delay, fastening her package on, and reaching out a hand casually to ask for the other - again, not thinking, her mind more on the task at hand than keeping up appearances. Speaker slides the package on top and then lets Nathi deal with it, covering for her slight error.

There is ample room in the carriage for all four guests; however, the fit is a bit tight. The woman in the purple hat beckons specifically to Pacci to sit next to her, and as the group files into the carriage, that is indeed where he ends up. The woman in the hat doesn't look up as the group sits down; rather, she turns to Pacci, head lowered, her hat covering her eyes.

"Hello again, my dear Leandro," she says quietly. The voice is unmistakable. "Surely you remember me, your benefactor in past expeditions..."

The woman looks directly into Pacci's eyes. Despite the unusual outfit, it is abundantly clear who is staring at him.

"...your benefactor, darling? Miss Catherine Villanova?" The woman winks slyly as a quick shout of "Hwoooooop!" and the crack of reins echoes from the front of the carriage, and within the same instant, the carriage is in motion, pulled with a remarkable smoothness by the creatures at the front.

"It's been a long time, Leandro," the woman says quietly. "How have you been?"

Eadwacer and Ecgþeow disembark from the spacecraft in the Outsets. They are dressed in simple clothing, that is of vaguely indeterminate origin, however, it still has tinges of Freod about it. They two of them have cameras around their necks, tourist guides in their pockets, and amazed looks on their faces as they examine this world, looking, to all, like two elderly men going on a vacation in their retirement.

After fumbling through their papers, and immigration, that make their way over to the carriages, with almost a feeling of comfort and familiarity.

Well, they may not be horsedrawn, but at least they are animals.

They call a carriage and climb in. Eadwacer leans forward and speaks, "Hullo. We're really tired from our travel, and were hoping that you could recommend a good place to stay." He looks out and takes some photos of the edge of the plateau. "Hmm, Lovely time beyond the edge of the horizon, eh, chaps?"

Emperor Gorrm reads the comm from Barry repeatedly, and is doing so as his hatchmate, and chief of intel and counter-agents Thress, arrives in his office. "Yes, my leige?"

Gorrm raises a single finger for silence, and hits a switch under his desk. "White-noise generator. To prevent snooping."

He raises from his plush chair, and walks towards Thress. "There is a situation most delicate that we may be interested in. You know of the political changes in the SLAGlands, yes?"

"I have kept abreast of them......one might say. We now have a vested interest?" She cocks her head, indicating that she knows the answer will be more than what is spoken.

"We do. Bodyguard Barry, although we have had no official diplomatic contact with him, has been friendly at best to our people. Indifferent at worst."

Gorrm paces to and fro in his office now, chin cupped in his hand. "With our own situation as it is, we need to know that political forces will not attempt to take advantage. 'Friendly' political forces. I am uncertain about this Westerburg, but something about him raises my crest. I think he would try to take advantage of us. But how? Barry may have some answers."

Gorrm stops pacing, and stares with both eyes locked on Thress. "And he may be in a perilous situation. We will aid him. I am appointing you Deputy Minister of Diplomacy to the SLAGlands. It will be a mission of observation. I will attempt to gain you entry into the SLAGlands to see how the shift in power is affecting the government there, and also, if you are able, to find some way of giving aid to Barry in some form. You will be going alone. No guard, no team, no outside communications."

"A diplomatic shuttle is being prepped to journey to Eniqcir. From there, a commercial flight will take you to Het Amid. Find out what you can. Do not report back until you leave the SLAGlands. Any questions?" Already Gorrm is handing her a disc, able to be inserted into her PDA, with an overview of SLAGland customs, political movers-and-shakers, and other pertinent info.

She pockets it, and salutes. "No questions, Emperor."

"Good. I'll get in touch with some of the other Yut leaders to see how this is playing out."

"Honestly, wool robes? Why?"

James sighed, once more. "As I've explained, brother, Intel believed they would draw less attention. This is supposed to be a secret trip, remember?" He looked around to make sure they werent being monitored, having just traveled from Eniqcir to the Outsets via Commercial Jet, they stood together in the airport ready to depart.

Andrew scratched at his arms for the fiftieth time during their trip. "They could have selected a less irritating garb. When we return, someone is getting sacked for this."

"Grin and bear it. We have business to attend to."

Andrew conceeded with a final sigh. "Very well. Do we have instructions on where to go?"

James nodded. "Yes, we are to take a local taxi to the location provided to us in the original communique. Ah, there is one now."

"A carriage? Hmm, old fashioned. I like it.", Andrew replied with a grin, as he waved a hand to hail the taxi and set forth to their destination.

Pacci's breath all but stopped as he looks on the face of one whom had long haunted his thoughts, and lived vibrant in his half-remembered dreams.

It was the day the sun's ray had turned pale
with pity for the suffering of his Maker
when I was caught, and I put up no fight,
my lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.

"How could I forget," he manages to breathe softly, his own eyes locked on hers, seeming to drink in her presence, all the rest of the world, for now, not existing for him in the least.

At the cry from the driver, he blinks, looking flustered beyond words. Blushing furiously, and attempting to cover it by removing his glasses and cleaning them fastiduously, his gaze now focused on the task at hand, he attempts a couple of times to answer, finally stammering out what passes for a cohesive sentence.

"I ah ... well, I ... quite well, my La ... that is to say, Miss Villanova." Coughing lightly, he slides his glasses back on, not daring yet to meet her eyes. "A-and yourself?"

Marik is more concerned with keeping track of their surroundings, watching from beneath what seem to be lazily hooded eyes.

Nathicana, on the other hand, arches a brow at Pacci's reaction. The name Villanova strikes a chord with her, and she leans forward slightly as if to ask a question. Looking again at Pacci, and guaging the tone of the woman's voice, she settles back between the others in their decidedly cozy arrangement, glancing to Speaker, and shrugging slightly.

A young man who looks to be college age and dressed in a hawaiian shirt and shorts steps off of a commercial airplane. Stretching out and muttering about economy-class seats, he proceeds to stride through the terminal, occaisonally glancing around at the various beings around him. He flags down one of the taxis, and directs the driver to take him to a good hotel.

5,000 feet above sea level, international waters roughly 200 miles off the Shogunate coast

I never realized how rough a ride it is in these blasted contraptions. Tsume thinks to himself, sitting in a cramped position in the bomb bay of his less than elegant ride to the Outsets. The Yotaka drone's twin bays were packed with oceanic survey bouys, leaving the six foot reploid with little room to relax.

It had been at least four hours since the drone was piggybacked into the air atop a Hamakaze 220 jet, and Tsume had spent the time plotting and listening to the ambient noise that would let him know it was almost time for the short freefall and the start of the serious part of his trip.

The drop doors slide open with a loud mechanical whine, releasing the drone's payload. Within moments, the 'floor' of bouys falls out from under Tsume and he drops into the cold air.

This is it-!

Twisting slightly in freefall, the black dragon's wings snap open and beat furiously to gain purchase on the damp breeze, spiralling down to fly low to the water, a dark spot against the dark ocean.

Several hours later, the reploid backwings to a tired landing on a beach at the Outsets, immediately sending an encrypted message back to the Shogunate.
<<This is Tsume. Let Shodey know I'm here. Good Goddess, that was the most tedious flight ever!
>>Ryoukai. Have fun over there!
<<Fun. Right. Yeah. I'm out.

With that, Tsume tromps off toward signs of civilization, all sneaky and ninja-like.

((OOC: I'll be fully back in action in another few days, so... yeah. Tsume's there, I guess ^_^; ))

"Ms. Villanova" smiles weakly at Pacci, raising her hat enough to reveal her eyes. There is both weakness and sadness behind them, the air very much different from the furious creature who emerged from the light in the caves and the peaceful, strikingly aloof deity whom Pacci met again at the Outsets summit. This Esmerelda seems tired, nervous, burdened... in short, strikingly human.

"Leandro, please," she says, a bit of quiet relief in her low tones. "I have truly missed your company. You have been... well..." She looks away, trailing off for a moment before becoming audible again. "...my friend. Perhaps my only friend, I would say."

The other carriages, each one carrying a different representative of Yut, join in caravan behind the first. Esmerelda looks out the side of the carriage, her voice low as she watches the red stones and Joshua trees of the plateau plod past.

"These times have been difficult..." she says. "I have been away, travelling, exploring, learning... my first time truly leaving The Emerald Heights. I have learned a lot about the world, its current state, myself... and most of all, my own limitations. It is new for me, Leandro, and I do not particularly like it."

The carriages continue their silent passage as Esmerelda turns back, her distant eyes lowered, looking to her knees.

"And worst of all is that I bear it alone..."

The trip to Het Amid was one of little consequence. Transfer flights, show papers, be subject to security scans, board flight. Thress was accustomed to this. the few stares she drew were of little consequence; foreign tourists gawking and little more.

This was her thought as she rode in one of the carriages traveling in a caravan of some sort. What an archaiac contraption, but well suited for its purpose. It brings some form of a .... romantic ... atmosphere to this whole thing. She leaned her head out of the window to spy some of the other passengers in the caravan.

Pacci is beside himself for a moment, the drastic change in the Goddess being completely unexpected. And completely irresistable to his decidedly chivalrous ideals.

"Surely not your only friend," he murmurs, daring to reach out and place his hand over hers, giving it a gentle but warm squeeze. "I ... I have missed you as well."

He looks on with concern as she speaks of her recent travels, his brow furrowing at her reaction to them. "The world, I'm afraid, is not always a pleasant place. And none of us, regardless of our abilities I would imagine, is without some limitations. It is the way of things," he says softly. "It does not make one less for realizing this. Rather the opposite."

At her last comment, his eyes drop, and an expression of sadness and guilt creep across his face.

"Esm...Ms. Villanova, not a day goes by that I don't regret that I couldn't do more. I feel ... responsible for the loss you suffered. I keep wondering what more I could have done ... " He trails off lamely. "Though we are small compensation, please know that among friends, which you are whether you see it or not, you never need bear it all alone."

He sat in silence for a few minutes, watching her. The play of the light across her beautiful features, her hair, like living gold in his eyes. And all so troubled.

"Please," he finally says, his tone earnest. "If there is anything I can do to help, name it. It's yours.

Nathicana for her part, keeps her eyes fixed on the surroundings and the strange beasts drawing the carriages. Listening intently to the conversation, she makes no move to indicate that she's doing so, occasionally chatting quietly with Marik, who responds with his usual loquacity.

Speaker looks out the window, appreciating the countryside as he softly hums grumbling songs from his youth to himself. Other than that, he doesn't have much to do but think and worry.

"Those songs," Nathicana says quietly, shooting Pacci a sidelong glance as she turns to Speaker. "I remember you singing one on the safari as we marched along. What do they mean?" She cocks her head inquisitively as her gaze shifts to him. "I remember that one stirred the blood ..." she trails off, smiling softly at the memories. Still, given their earlier topic, and the reason for their being here, she pats his knee gently.

"Don't worry. It will all work out."

"Hrrr?" Speaker blinks, then shakes his head slightly out of his reverie. "The songs? They are bits of epics and folktales put to music to make them easier for the bards to remember. Some mythology, legend, and history. The one on the safari is an epic about a hunter... probably allegorical for the Great Hunt. The one I was just humming is a portion of a very long one called the Song of the Race... one of the very few portions I know."

He makes no comment on how events will turn out, but the hand laying on the windowsill flexes almost imperceptably as he barely extends and retracts the tips of his claws.

"Is it one that has been ... forgotten, or just a very long one to memorize?" She looks abashed for a moment, realizing that perhaps this is not the best time to bring up painful memories, nor quiz him on the subject. "I apologize, Tuyc. I find your humming comforting. Please, don't let me keep you from it.

If she notes his reaction, she doesn't let on, one ear still perked, listening to Pacci and the woman. Several conclusions are drawn from their conversation, still, she says nothing, preferring to give them at least the illusion of privacy for now.

"A bit of both." Speaker looks idly out the window again, and sighs very softly. "During the Extraction, we lost our Conservors--our priests--who remembered the Song. I remember portions, and I know others remember others... but surely long portions are lost. It was... a weakness of the old tradition. Only the Conservors were permitted to learn the entire Song, and they defended that right in combat. Their collections of ears were... fearsome."

He turns to look at Nathi, smiling softly. "Do not apologize. While we are saddened by losing so much, we are glad to share what we can."

Nathicana arches a brow, starts to speak, thinks better of it ... then bulls ahead anyway.

"If I may, you say you know some, others know some ... have you made an effort to gather together all the various information you survivors have, and damn tradition? I mean, gods - times have changed. You've said so yourself. There are any number of things out there just for the asking, if you've not done so already. And if you haven't, why not? Adapt and live, S...Tuyc. Imagine what your race could learn if they pooled all those bits and snippets they have." She drops her gaze then, fiddling with her hands ... most noteably the finger that still shows the mark of a missing ring.

"Again, mi dispiace. But I have always valued information and learning. It is I suppose, a passion of mine. The thought of so much being lost ... " She looks back up to Speaker with a wry grin. "I tend to get a touch carried away, I suppose."

Speaker blinks at first, suprised by the passion of Nathi's response, then chuckles softly. "Do not apologize... it is the obvious solution. Hrrr..." Leaning back, he rubs his chin as he looks down at his flexing hand in thought. "There are still many of us who remember, although we are scattered wide... and there is more to rebuild than ancient songs." Muttering softly to himself in a growling language, he flaps his ears slightly. "It is doable. Even if some cannot attend, with modern technology mere presence is not necessary..."

He smiles and looks back up at Nathi. "Thank you, kzaw-tzobu. I have a new... project when I return from this errand."

"Sometimes the 'obvious' is not so much, depending on one's situation," she says with the usual close-lipped smile she uses when around Speaker. "As they say, there are times to hold close to traditions, and times when one must lay tradition aside for the greater good. Salvaging what you can of your heritage, I would think, counts as such a time. Not to mention it being a decidedly honorable effort, at that. I wish you luck with it. And," she says, pausing. "I thank you, though I do not understand the honorific, I'm ashamed to say."

A change? All I did was suggest ...

As he rode in a carriage down the road, Gregor stuck his head out the window and took a look around. Beautiful scenary, the occasional odd animal roaming the countryside, other carriages traveling down the road, the head of a Sakkran...the head of a Sakkran? Gregor reached into his pack, and took out a set of binoculars. Pointing them forward, he found that sure enough, that was indeed the distinctive shape of a Sakkran leaning out of one of the other carriages.

'What a coincidence. He...or is that a she? I think that's a female, ' Gregor thinks. 'I really should figure that out... probably asked for a good hotel like I did, and had the same place recomended. Or we're being sent to the same place deliberately.'

Gregor give the Sakkran a small wave when she looks his way, then turns his attention to the other carriages, trying to spy any other familiar faces.

<OOC: Sure, we prolly wouldn't be in the same caravanish thing. But odd coincidences and/or hidden plans make the Ring go round.>

"I thank you, though I do not understand the honorific, I'm ashamed to say."
Speaker chuckles softly. "In time, I may tell you. For now, I will keep you in suspense." He looks back out the window and returns to humming, apparently somewhat less agitated now.

Nathi arches her brow curiously, obviously wanting to press for an answer. "I ..." she begins, then laughs softly, smiling. "I shall try and be patient, for now. I believe, Tuyc, that it is far past time I tried to learn your language. Though my hopes of ever managing proper pronunciation, I'm afraid, are few."

She turns her own attention back to speaking quietly with Marik, glancing at the passing countryside, and idly listening to the conversation between Pacci and the Lady.

I'm almost certain. But ... since when were they so close? I've been remiss in my observations, obviously. Still, Evangelista did report a certain ... fondness or some such at that banquet between them. So much was going on then, I scarcely remember. I wonder.

Her hands idly twist and fidget in her lap, she scarcely noticing, it has become such a habit when her mind wanders.

I hope Barry is ok.

(OOC: F*CK RETIREMENT!)

Esmerelda only looks up once into Pacci's eyes, and there is a relief behind them, a silent sigh. Moments before she opens her mouth, the carriage hops to a halt before the mouth of a gigantic cave. Only Leandro recognizes it, and only he recognizes the tall, muscular cat who stands at the cave's mouth. The cat's fur glows dull grey.

"Welcome," he says slowly. "I am Guide. Please come. There is much to discuss."

Esmerelda steps from the carriage first, looking around carefully to make sure no one is watching. Then, as the groups exit the carriages, she instructs each of the drivers, one by one, to return to the airport. Each takes a different route; some go the opposite direction. Quietly, with neither flourish nor fervor, both the glowing cat and the goddess in the purple dress lead the group down into the cave's mouth.

Neasa dressed in what was hopefully an inconspicuous outfit consisting of red t-shirt, black jeans, and cowboy-style hat, boots, and belt. After passing through customs with a minimum of difficulty,she exited the terminal thinking I have absolutely no idea where the heck I am, and proceeded to hail a taxicarriage.

Gregor hops out of the carriage and follows Esmerelda and Guide down into the cave, thinking to himself, 'Either this is the strangest hotel ever or I was right and we were lead here deliberately. Either way, I hope we see Barry soon. I want to here from him what's going on.'

Thress walks along, following the guide. "Indeed, as do I. My government is not trusting of this Westerburg. At my 'gentle' prodding, we supported Barry. He has made a positive image on us, and we hoped to see great things from him. But alas, life had othe rplans."

Andrew and James exit their carriage with little comment, giving a polite nod to both Thress and Gregor as they follow the group into the cave.

Damn. Pacci gets quickly to his feet, moving to exit close behind Esmerelda, only after thinking to look at Nathicana with a somewhat sheepish expression.

The dark-haired woman merely nods, almost imperceptably, indicating her approval. She, meanwhile, gracefully gets to her feet, then waits her turn to slowly exit the carriage. Both she and Marik gather the luggage from the back, then follow after their hosts - she, hesitating, waiting for Speaker, and him, taking up a position a few paces behind her.

Nathi makes a few calculations, scanning over the others who have been dropped off as well, quietly nodding to those who recognize her, and merely observing the rest.

Pacci greets Guide with a solemn smile. "It has been a long time," her murmurs, his eyes once again being drawn back to the goddess, his expression concerned as they followed along. He hardly takes note of the others there.

Ecgþeow and Eadwacer disembark from the carriage and enter the cave. Though apparantly carefree tourists still, each keeps his sword hand beneath his cloak and upon his hilt.

The gentle glow of Guide lights the cave as the delegation enters it. It is wide and quite unnaturally round, with an unusually steep grade, its walls decorated with crude cave paintings of the eyeless Adib and the pensive and marvelous Brethren of Shade. The sweet aroma of fish and vegetables wafts from further down the passage, and the flicker of candlelight slowly begins to come into view.

"We have prepared a small meal as a gift for your coming," Guide says. "We hope you will enjoy it." Esmerelda, meanwhile, pulls the hat from her head and throws it in the air, and with a quick flash, it disappears. She reaches her hands behind her head and lets her long blonde hair loose, flipping it into freedom with a quick twitch of her neck.

Shortly thereafter, the tunnel opens up into a gigantic cavern, lit strangely brightly by the dozens of candleabras filling the room. Huge pillars stretch to the room's ceiling, which is far beyond the reach of the light. The only other exits to the room appear to be a rather large opening on the right end of the room and a strange-looking pit on the opposite side of the room.

And in the center of the room is the "small meal." The gigantic round table features just enough chairs, plates, silverware, and napkins for every member of the group, and beside the table, a long buffet is laid out. Its centerpiece is a huge crimson fish carefully seasoned and garnished, steam rising from its juicy body. Beside it, a medley of vegetables and fruits complement the aroma, joined at last by tall bottles of shimmering white wine.

After all of the changes that have been made to the place, Pacci barely recognizes it as the room that once housed the foul Il Adib queen, Mother.

The host--one of only two occupants in the room--rises as the guests enter. Behind him stands, of course, the S.H.O.D.A.N. avatar. She nods dutifully as the delegation enters.

The man who rises is much less recognizable. He is completely bald, his face above the nose void of eyes, his face smoothly shaven. He is quite tall and muscular--well over six feet--and wears a simple green-and-brown robe across his body. Only through his smile and his words do the guests recognize him as Bodyguard Barry.

"Hello, everyone," he says slowly, holding his head high as if to look past the delegates and make sure they weren't followed. "Please, take all you like, and eat all you take." He motions with one hand to the table, looking back over his shoulder momentarily before nervously turning back. "We have much to discuss, but I... uh... want you all to feel at home here... so... enjoy..."

He quickly sits back down, lowering his head a bit and glancing about him. Shodey puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him a loving squeeze.

"We'll begin shortly," she says. "For now, though, grab a plate and fill it."

Thress grabds a plate, as requested, and loads it mostly with the fish, and a few vegetables. She declines the use of utensils, however.

Shortly thereafter, she takes a seat, and awaits for the other delegates to sit before she begins her eating.

((OOC: For simplicity's sake, I guess I'll just assume Tsume got his mechalizardy keister to the gathering after flying in ^_~.))

This being Tsume's first visit to the islands, he contents himself with looking around, taking note of the decor. The reploid dragon is uncharacteristically reserved as the group is led to the meeting room, though even he gives a start at Barry's eyeless face. After the brief introduction, he manages one of those odd wing-spread bows of his. "Thank you for the offer, but I do not require food." He grins, showing his fangs and a glance at the Sakkran he does not recognize. "However, I'm sure my share will not be wasted."

Tsume finds an empty seat and awkwardly works his draconic frame into it, and waits for the others to eat their fill.

Thanking Barry and Shodey, Gregor sits down besides Tsume and digs in, somehow managing to maintain a semblance of polite table manners while shoveling food into his mouth. Between the shirt, the slacks, and the ravenous appetite, he could easily be mistaken for any male college student on several planets. Only the silver circlet that is visible on his head - and sometimes only from the corner of the eye, for that matter - breaks the illusion. Well, not so much illusion as the simple fact that, were he not the leader of a major stellar power, he really would be a student.

"So," Gregor says, between mouthfuls, "was everyone's trip was pleasant?" He's obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit, knowing that the rest of the day was likely to be far from pleasant.

Speaker keeps up the meatshielding act, preceding Nathi into the cave and keeping a careful eye on the surroundings. His keen hunter's nose picks up the scent of food far from the source, pricking up his ears and swallowing slightly. Must not present the image of slathering beast, after all. Hrr hrr hrr. His eyes trace over the intricate designs as he represses that odd feeling of foreboding welling in his spleen.

Upon arriving in the dining chamber carved from the living rock, Speaker blinks at the moderate change in atmosphere and expectations. Barry--No, make that Bari, Tyuc-Tasskin--isn't wearing his usual suit, and S.H.O.D.A.N. the faithful wife doesn't quite match up with her more customary image, that of the unofficial advisor and friend who hangs out on the couch back in his office. He did, of course, know that she had assigned an avatar to Bari; something he knew intellectually but never quite took the time to understand.

Still, the life of a diplomat is to see new sides of people. Adapting quickly, he bows shortly to his hosts then allows himself to take a predatory air, tail swishing as he looks over the buffet. Motioning for Nathi to go first, he follows behind, carefully selecting bits of fish and a surprising array of vegetables and fruits. Taking up some a bottle of wine, he pulls his old Kn-Yani green-crystal chalice--fluted oddly to fit his mouth--from a bag hanging at his belt and fills it.

Standing by his seat, he follows tradition--letting the females sit down first--then takes his seat, watching the situation closely as he sips from the goblet, facets glittering and flashing in the candlelight.

Nathicana quietly follows, one brow quirked curiously at the odd surroundings, and decidedly unusual reception. She peers around the broad back of Speaker now and then, curious as to where they're going, and seriously pondering asking Shodey for a little cheat on language skills.

God knows I'll never be able to make a decent pronunciation of it, but at least I'll better understand what the hell he's saying, she thought with a hint of smile.

Pacci, on the other hand, is for once oblivious to the scene around them, his eyes fixed as often as he can manage on the beautiful woman in the hat. He gasps quietly as she takes off the hat that had been shielding her features, and shakes out her long golden tresses.

"Ah, e cosi molto bella ..." he breathes softly, his brow furrowed in concern.

What weighs so heavily on your mind, Esmerelda? Dammit, woman you're not alone.

Marik for his part, remains quiet, though watchful as always. Odd as it may seem, the cave paintings catch his eye, and he gazes at them longer than the rest of their surroundings. He remains close to Nathicana, hovering quietly without seeming to overshadow.

I don't like this. To far away from things. Too much opportunity for accidents. Nath, one of these days you're going to step out too far and find there's nothing beneath your feet but air. I just hope I'm there to catch you when it happens.

All three are impressed with the spread, to say the least, though his attention remains diverted, and hers shifts to the two figures awaiting them in the room immediately.

Nathicana flashes the avatar a warm smile, though the look of concern is clear enough when her gaze shifts to Barry. For some reason, this doesn't feel like the proper time for the usual hugs.

He's gone monk. Sweet Jesu, this is a twist I didn't see coming.

<LOS Communications - Shodey>
{
<< Sis - so good to see you, as always. I'd pry, but it seems Barry wishes to do this a certain way.

<< Let me know if there's anything I can do, all the same. Family. [hug analog] And please ... tell him not to worry for me? Whatever is wrong, you're among friends. We'll find a way.
}


She nods to Speaker as he gestures for her to go on ahead, murmuring a quiet thanks. Marik follows close behind, giving Speaker an apologetic but firm look as he maintains a close watch over the shorter woman. She samples a little bit of just about everything, settling into her seat with a little bow of respect to the big kzin. She pours herself, Marik, and Pacci a glass, then pointedly sets the bottle away from her.

Pacci in the meantime, waits for the others, still lost in thought. It's almost with surprise that he begins filling his plate, keeping mainly to the fish and vegetables. He sits down to the left of Nathicana, Marik settling in on the right with his own plate of food.

Nathi makes an effort to at least make eye contact with each of the others, nodding and offering a little smile in greeting when it seems appropriate. At Gregor's question, she starts, surprised after all the quiet.

"I er ... yes, quite," she murmurs, arching a brow expectantly.

Seeing the others take their seats, Thress begins to inspect the food lain out on her plate. A cursory visual examination, as well as a deep inhale, satisfy her that there are no undue toxins in her meal. One can never be too cautious, even amongst allies.

She hears Gregor's question, and the Dread Lady's response. With a thick Sakkran accent, sounding like a low roll of the tongue on the Rs and Ls and slight hissing on the S, she responds. "The trip was not eventful. This is good, as it gives one time to ponder."

Speaker shrugs. Diplomatic small talk used to be a good portion of his life, no matter how little he used it. "It is always good to travel with friends," he begins, "and I have sorted some things in my mind. Hopefully they will come to fruition soon."

Tsume chuckles dryly at Gregor's question, a deep-throated rumble. "I imagine everyone else had a more pleasant journey than I did. Sneaking out of the country in the bomb bay of a Yotaka drone aircraft is certainly not high on my list of preferable travel practices. But when the order says 'sneaky and ninjalike', well..." He shrugs, amusement on his face as he watches the others dig in to the food. "Suppose it reminds me of the days of secret gatherings and the like from the Dividing War. I daresay I'm quite direly curious as to the nature of this gathering, among other things."

Eadwacer and Garþeow look around the cave, and see that now, at last, they are surrounded by friends and comrades. They both become noticibly more relaxed as the settle back into chairs. Weapons, previously concealed, slip out from beneath their cloaks to more comfortable positions.

"Garþeow, Methinks that Secg Bari could have chosen a more comfortable location for his exile. Instead, he must live like a wulf upon the borders of his nation. This is truly a disgrace."

"Ah, but Cyng, is this now how you want the people you exile to dwell?"'

"Butan þis is ungelice! Bari is a freond!"

"Mine hlaford, you're getting soft in your old age."

Neasa climbed out of the last carriage, and quickly followed the tail end of the group down into the cave. Her intended-to-be inconspicous dress showed off the tiniest bit of teenage stereotype present in her personality, and the associated fascination with all things graffiti-like led her to make a careful examination of the cave paintings.

Once in the eating room, she picked up a plate, paused a bit by the fish before placing just a little taste on her plate, and loaded up on fruits before sitting down. Waiting for a pause in every one elses speach, she finally made her own answer to gregor's question following Tsume.

"I find one of the advantages of living in the proverbial shadows is that almost no one recognizes you when you occasionally leave. My own journey was just as unexciting as any normal person's commercial flight. The in-flight movie was quite good."

Andrew nodded his head in agreement with Neasa, sifting through his plate with minimal interest, mostly focussed on the issue at hand. "It was something I havent experienced in a long while," he paused. "a commercial flight, that is. To tell the truth, it actually feels quite liberating, to be free from the chains of upper government, if only for a short while." he said with a small grin, but then his expression turns somewhat grave. "It is unfortunate, however, that it would have to come under such circumstances."