NationStates Jolt Archive

Sargard was doubtless the busiest city in Ravenspire. In many ways, it was more the center of the country than the capital, Tir Eselyn. True, the latter city was located geographically in the center of the Ravenspire peninsula; also true, that it was the center of government, home to the ministry offices and even the Leader's Home. But it was a quieter, more sedate city; its business was the business of government and politics, and where it was not clean, it was at least genteel. Appearances had to be kept up, after all. That was tradition.

Sargard was home to almost no offices of national government. There were military bases nearby, of course, but not within the city limits. And there were CI/CT agents stationed at the entry points -- Sargard being the only sea port of appreciable size in the nation -- but those areas, too, were technically outside the city limits. Only the postal service was truly represented within the city itself.

But if it was not a center of government, it was inarguably a center of trade and culture. Tourists flocked to Sargard, situated on the famous black-sand beaches of the Twilight Coast; the weather reached a level of perfection found in few other places -- certainly not elsewhere in Ravenspire -- and the laws of Ravenspire were famously permissive. Here was a city devoted to entertainment and to business, and the biggest of its businesses was entertainment. Theaters, cinemas, museums, casinos, brothels, clinics, spas, stadiums, parks and gardens, zoos, and more filled its streets and the area surrounding the city proper, as did the restaurants, hotels, and hospitality services that operated in synergy with the entertainments. Here was a place where any amusement could be found, any desire -- almost any -- fulfilled. For a price. Sargard was the center of hedonism of a nation known, to some degree, for its libertine tendencies. And, incredibly, it was safe. Despite possessing one of the lowest police ratios in the solar system, Ravenspire boasted one of the highest safety ratings. Sargard, a teeming mass of foreigners and entertainers, where the law seemed to have the lightest of hands, nevertheless remained controlled and cheerfully content in its pursuit of pleasure on one hand and profit on the other.

But this week had been different. The city was busier than ever, and the hands of the law, in the form of the visible presence of police and CI/CT agents, stronger than it had been for more than a decade. The streets were abuzz with talk of the event that had prompted this work and this care.

The Foxfire Festival.

The Day of the Fox, a national holiday, was approaching. Normally, this would not brook such celebration, but this year was also, according to the traditional Ravenspire calendar, the Year of the Fox, and so the day took on added significance. A Foxfire Festival day occurred only once every thirteen years.

Outside of Sargard, a young foxwoman -- one of the native race of Ravenspire known sometimes as the Kin, other times as foxgirls (even the males), human in appearance but for the ears and bushy tail of a fox -- stood in one of the military bases, looking out over the airfield. All was normal, now, but come the festival, this airfield would be receiving special guests, dignitaries from other allied and neutral nations who had been invited to partake in the festivities in at least a limited way. There would be a state dinner to reinforce camaraderie, no doubt, and perhaps some talk of politics. It seemed she could never escape that. But the celebration was the main thing.

And for that to happen without a hitch, security needed to be tight. And so she, Sakura Kitsuki, was giving up one of her rare days off to double-check.

There were no major flaws; Hotaru knew her work well. Not as well as Sakura herself, of course. But then, few had sacrificed as Sakura had. Hotaru was very competent. Even masterful. And she'd saved Sakura countless hours of tedious paperwork. She had a flair for the job, really. Sakura was more a woman of action. And so she went over the plans again, mentally making a minor adjustment here, reassigning a position there.

The invitations would have been issued, by now, through the usual channels. Soon the day that marked the beginning of the festival would arrive. She would have rechecked everything five or six times by then, easily.

The waiting was always the hardest part.

(OOC note to follow.)

OOC: Couple of "ground rules," I guess...

First, this is pretty much open, unless you're an extremist-religious nation, since Ravenspire has pretty limited contact with those, where any exists at all.

Second, if you're planning to stage an attack, please telegram me first. And be aware that you probably won't succeed.

Third, very little is illegal in Ravenspire. Bearing weapons, even concealed ones, is common. Nuclear and other WMD-type devices, however, are not. While not illegal, powered armor and the like would be considered unforgivably gauche.

Fourth, generally speaking, magic, psychic powers, and the supernatural don't work in Ravenspire. This will not, however, kill a corporeal being; elves and vampires don't age into oblivion, or anything. Just something to keep in mind.

Fifth, I'll roleplay with anyone. Future, modern, fantasy, whatever. Not an issue, as long as you bear in mind the point above. If it matters, I'm sci-fi.

Questions? TG me.

So far, the trip had been a pleasent one for Minister Sneeark, in spite of his fear of flying. The in-flight meal, tuna with pickled ginger and sushi, had been rather good and satisfying. The flight itself was uneventful, as the government jet streaked along at a nominal 20,000 ft without encountering any turbulence. So far, so good. Landing was what always got Sneeark, as there is nothing really for a dolphin to relate a flying metal shoebox hitting the ground at several hundred kilometers per hour to. But, he lived, and managed to keep his lunch too.

It had only been a few days ago that another one of those nicely written formal invitations had come across the Prime Minister's desk, and having never heard of Ravenspire before, and after doing some cursory research, it was decided that all of the ministers would put their names in a hat, and the one picked would be made ambassador. Bill Chenkny had won, but had said that he couldn't really go, due to the fact he was already the ambassador to Lavenrunz and Der Angst, and that he really should be catching up on some work back at the Ministry of Finance. So, after another draw, Sneeark's name was picked, and the little superintelligent dolphin got a free trip out of town. Funny how government works.

An RSVP had been sent, but he doubted that there'd be much fanfare at his arrival. Still, he hoped they'd at least send him a car. Preferably a big one - he didn't fit well into compacts.

http://www.geocities.com/kranzyoktyabr/dolphin.txt
Sneeark Snik-ikk-ikk, East Canuckistani Minister of Fisheries and Oceans, and Ambassador to Ravenspire

((OOC: Hmmm... I guess I'll send Janus Mew, former Princess of Krowemoh. If this is not alrght, I'll promtply delete this post, or edit it out of exisitance.))


*A Krowemohian interstellar starship traveled through the vastness of space, escorted by two Krowemohian Heavy Support Fighters. On board was the former Princess Janus Mew, two Weapons Grade Realians as her bodyguards, and the appointed Krowemohian Ambassador to Ravaenspire. She was to attend the Ravenspire's Foxfire Festival, in an effort to form a friendship among Krowemoh and Ravenspire. The blonde haired neko sighed, reviewing information given to her about Ravenspire.*

Janus: "First my brother locks me in a prison for eighty years‡, then he expects me to act as his personal delegate? Who does he think he is?"

*The Ambassador kept quiet. He knew Janus Mew wasn't looking for a response.*

Pilot: "We'll be arriving at Ravenspire within the hour."

*The pilot of the small vessel informed his passengers.*


From: Prince Rufus Mew
Sub: Re: Foxfire Festival Invitation

I would be honored to attend the Foxfire Festival, but matters of the state demand my physical presense. However, I have asked my sister, Janus Mew, to attend in my stead and she agreed to. Hopefully this will be the beginning of a long and profitable relationship for both of our mighty nations.

May you walk on warm sands,
Rufus Mew

[END]

http://server5.uploadit.org/files/NeoTetraMagic-Rufus_and_Janus.jpg
Prince Rufus Mew, Shown With Twin Sister Janus Mew
Member of the Cold Alliance

((OOC2: ‡Janus Mew was forcibly removed from office by her brother Rufus Mew. Due to various atrocities Janus had commited during her term, such as the KillSwitch Protocol, where all citizens were impanted (Without their knowledge) with a remote controlled device that released Cyanide into thier systems, Rufus put Janus into a high security holding facility where she's remained up until Project Exodus. Having undergone slight Behavioral modification and mild recondictioning, Janus is no longer as she once was.
Nekos age slower then humans. So while Janus is nearing 100, she still only looks like she's thirty or so.))

An RSVP had been sent, but he doubted that there'd be much fanfare at his arrival. Still, he hoped they'd at least send him a car. Preferably a big one - he didn't fit well into compacts.


The minister might have been surprised, then, at his reception.

The military band did not, as was their normal custom, play the national anthem of East Canuckistan as the minister disembarked; the question of how the music might affect the dolphin's senses, particularly echolocation, had been raised. Despite some hurried research, an answer had not been found, and so it was decided that the reception should err on the side of caution.

A color guard, clothed in the crimson and black dress uniforms of the Ravenspire armed forces, presented arms, and a trio of officials, two humans and a foxgirl, came forward to meet Sneeark. The three bowed deeply, and the young man in the center spoke. "Welcome to Ravenspire, Excellency. I'm David Kilough of the diplomatic corps. I'm here to see that your stay is comfortable." He was well-trained; if he found anything strange about talking with a dolphin, he didn't allow it to show.

((OOC: Hmmm... I guess I'll send Janus Mew, former Princess of Krowemoh. If this is not alrght, I'll promtply delete this post, or edit it out of exisitance.))

OOC: Absolutely fine with me.

IC:

As the small starship approached Earth, it was greeted by a transmission from Aristotle Station's AI, offering a brief formal statement of welcome, and directing it on a course to the planet below. Ravenspire lay in the equatorial region of the Atlantic; fortunately, as a spacefaring nation, it possessed the facilities to handle a starship.

Janus Mew and her entourage were welcomed by the national anthem of Krowemoh, played by a military band as they disembarked; a color guard of soldiers presented arms. A sharp eye might have noticed other soldiers, positioned out of the way, who were not in dress but rather in battle uniform. Though they remained unobtrusive, it was clear that security was being taken seriously.

Janus was met by a short, youthful-looking foxgirl, whose bright red hair matched the fur on her tail and ears. "Welcome to Ravenspire, Your Highness," she said, after she had bowed in greeting. "I am Shizuka Aino, of Clan Aozora, the Secretary of Ministries. I hope you will find your stay a comfortable one."

*The former Princess returned the bow, smiling.*

Janus: "As do I. I am Janus Mew, these are my Realians bodyguards..."

*The two Realians stood behind her, one was armed with an assualt rifle slung around his shoulder by a single strap, the other with a simple handgun on his waist. Each stood about 5 feet, and unlike their makers, they looked human, just with purple hair and pupiless eyes.*

Janus: "And he is Troy Baska, Prince Mew's appointed Ravenspire ambassador, should we be allowed to open an embassy in Ravenspire."

*She introduiced the ambassador, a well dressed neko with dark green hair and brown fur on his ears and tail. He nodded greetings to the foxgirl.*

"Of course," the foxgirl acknowledged. "We would be pleased to establish closer formal relations with Krowemoh. A diplomatic officers will provide some information regarding possible embassy sites for you to choose from. But you've come a long way. Perhaps you would prefer to rest first?"

*The neko smiled.*

Janus: "Yes, that would be nice. Our quarters are located...?"

*Troy, the Ambassador, fidgited with his tie, then wiped some sweat off his brow. This was his first assignment, and he was praying he wouldn't mess up.*

Finally, a vacation. Dekker had needed one of these for a long time. Mercenary work didn't typically leave much time for pleasure, much less his son, who was off at RDMA Basic Training for the next several days. He'd left a message on Dekker's cell phone, saying he'd be down in a few days.

Dekker Bray wandered the streets of the city of Sargard, dressed in his typical baggy black fatigue pants, baggy black hoodie, and matching hiking boots. The conforting weight of his long-slide AMT Hardballer rode under his left arm in a shoulder holster, unseen beneath the hoodie's baggyness. Dekker was a large man, standing 6'2" with a powerful 250 lbs build earning him the callsign 'Hercules' with his RDMA unit. Unfortunately, none of his squaddies from his unit could join him on vacation, so he would go it alone for the time being.

The Day of the Fox celebration was some sort of local festival, he guessed something similar to Mardi Gras or Chinese New Year, if one could compare it to something. Dekker hadn't come for the bare-chested young girls, or the fireworks... he'd come to relax. As he walked back to his hotel, he felt something was bound to happen, someone up above seemed to take the 'Rest when you're Dead' saying a bit too seriously, as Dekker always seemed to wind up shooting someone who was trying to kill him...

General Garand had set him up with a diplomat's pass, giving him a posh hotel suite and free access to the city's sights. Unfortunately, it came with the typical price tag of stuffy dinner parties and embassy functions. Dekker had brought his suit and tux along for the trip, as the rentals never fit right and he always wound up paying for repairs.

General Garand had always told him he was the most diplomatic person on his staff, a rouge-ishly handsome, decently young guy with a flare for making friends and finding enemies. Dekker entered his room, and clicked on the television. The news channel was buzzing with facts and event scedules for the upcoming celebration, as well as a list of attending foreign celebrities... Thankfully, he wasn't included.

'Janus Mew's in town... Must have relations or something with the fox-folk...'

Dekker lay back on the bed, the room now dark with the setting sun. Shortly, he'd order a bucket of Guiness draft and drift off with the TV on, as he'd done the night before...

Minister Sneeark (as dolphins rarely used their surnames) was rather amused by the sight of the band and assembled regalia as he hopped down the slightly smaller then normal steps of the airplane, with both of fins maintaining firm grips on the handrails. Like all of his hyperadvanced bretheran, his senses and their use had been tuned, so that his eyesight was as good as any human's, and that his hearing wouldn't be effected by the noise. Still, he was glad they didn't play the anthem: He didn't like it anyway.

Seeing the Ravenspire delegates waiting for him was another pleasent suprise. He returned their bows, and waved for the few cameras present. Then he spoke. "Please, Exellency does me too much credit. Mr. Minister if you insist on formality, or Mr. Sneeark if you'd rather not. Thank you for this lovely reception! I'd quite expected to be shuffled off rather quietly. Now, say, lets see about some transportation to some place quieter, eh?"

(OOC: Apologies for the delay.)

*The neko smiled.*

Janus: "Yes, that would be nice. Our quarters are located...?"

*Troy, the Ambassador, fidgited with his tie, then wiped some sweat off his brow. This was his first assignment, and he was praying he wouldn't mess up.*

"At Tir Kitsu," Shizuka replied. "It was once the site of the castle town of the Kitsu family, but it was burned to the ground during the Battle of Sargard Keep about a century ago. The city was eventually rebuilt, but the castle wasn't until about ten years ago, when the heirs of the family built a resort on the property. The government leased it for the duration of the festival, since it's relatively private. If you would prefer accomodations within the city, of course, I can arrange for an imperial suite at a luxury hotel." She smiled, a touch nervously.

Seeing the Ravenspire delegates waiting for him was another pleasent suprise. He returned their bows, and waved for the few cameras present. Then he spoke. "Please, Exellency does me too much credit. Mr. Minister if you insist on formality, or Mr. Sneeark if you'd rather not. Thank you for this lovely reception! I'd quite expected to be shuffled off rather quietly. Now, say, lets see about some transportation to some place quieter, eh?"

David nodded dutifully. "Thank you, Mr. Minister." Apparently, he had decided to err on the side of caution once again by choosing the more formal address. "There's a car waiting for you... a rather unusual one. I hope it will suit your needs. Was your flight a long one?" He remained polite and somewhat deferential while accompanying Sneeark to the car he had mentioned.

Outwardly, it looked something like a white stretch limo, but with a higher, boxier profile. But when the door was opened, the passenger section proved to be filled with water -- not unlike a small tank, in fact, but without anything visibly keeping the water from spilling out. "An application of spacebending technology," the man explained. "It's also a little bit larger inside than outside."

Among the cultural programming -- and the periodic advertisements, which included those for Lavenrunzian restaurants, Hack electronics, Menelmacari clothing, Demonessian salons, and even one for a Raevynese church -- Dekker probably took note of a short segment profiling some of the officials expected to be present. Among them were Sakura Kitsuki, the foxgirl High Queen; Alaric Morgannan, the chief diplomat; and Raye Forrester, the Minister of State. Most of it is fluff, but there's a brief glimpse of the resort grounds -- which, as a military man, he'd probably would note omits any detail about security measures or even the exterior of the resort -- and a brief list of events. Sure enough, a state dinner and dance was among them.

If there were anything happening beyond the festivities, the cheery blurb segments focusing on the celebrations didn't suggest it. Still, he couldn't help feeling that 'calm before the storm' impression.

*Janus smirks.*

Janus: "Tir Kitsu suits us fine, thank you."

((OOC: Skipping ahead to when we arrive.))

*Upon arriving at Tir Kitsu, Janus Mew nodded her approval of the site.*

Janus: "It's very beautiful."

[OOC: This is awesome! My favorite animal is the fox!!!]

A hovercar had just got into the city, and the music was blaring, the bass especially. From a quarter a mile away you could hear the music. It drove downt he street, untill it finally got to a hotel, then the music ceased.
Out walked a Matan, a human with a monkey tail, and a fox person. They walked into the hotel, and checked out a room.
They had, of course came for the festival. Their names were Jovian (the Matan) and Meltak (The fox person.)
In their car was an odd osortment of weapons, ranging from laser rifles, to neural wrist bands. They weren't planning on attacking anyone thouygh, they just carried the weapons around.
Also, very visible, was a giant Buster sword on Jovian's back. It was of course big, and had runes running down it, again he wasn't planning on attacking anyone.
Jovian was wearing black pants, and a sleevless shirt, that was tight against him, revealing a six pack. His arms were buff as well.
Meltak had on jeans, and a white t-shirt, also revealing a six pack.
On Meltak's forehead was a visible tatoo rune, a symbolism of Ta'aism, which was his religion.
Meltak walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.
"What are you doing?" Jovian asked just as he was about to leave the apartment room.
"Changing," Meltak replied.
"Into what?"
"My robes," Came the muffled reply.
"Oh god..." Jovian said rubbing his forehead. "You are going to cause people to look at us."
"And your sword won't?"
"Well I... I have to give that one to you," Jovian said.
Meltak stepped out, he was now wearing the Ta'ai robes, they were orange, with two red lines running down the front and back.
"Lets go to the festival," Jovian said, and they headed off.

Minister Sneeark's eyes visably widened at the sight of the crystal-blue water that lapped oddly at the empty space that the door had previously occupied.

"Well... I'd have never thought... Wow..."

Then he realised something. He was still wearing his suit. Of course, it was an expensive suit, one that was rather unsuitable for swimming in, but he couldn't just disrobe here one the sidewalk. The problem, combined with the different atmospheric pressure, was starting to give him a headache.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have a changing booth around here somewhere, eh? I don't know about you, but we don't usually disrobe on the sidewalk. Eh?"

http://www.geocities.com/kranzyoktyabr/dolphin.txt
Sneeark Snik-ikk-ikk, East Canuckistani Minister of Fisheries and Oceans, and Ambassador to Ravenspire

The twin-prop airplane bearing the markings of The Community of Gleph touched down with a squeak and a roar of reversed engines. Taxing to the despersal area, the aircraft finally came to a hault against the passenger tunnel.

DiplomatMonk Brother Zemm walked calmly from the plane, his two WarriorMonk guards striding along either side of him.
"At last... Ravenspire," he murmered happily to himself.
"Brother?", the taller of the two escorting Monks questioned.
"There is no problem, Simkin. I am merely allowing my thoughts to speak for themselves. And you needn't crowd me so... Ravenspire is not home to the Aggressor."

The three bald headed men finally reached the end of the passenger tunnel and stepped out to meet the Ravenspire Greeting Party....

The journey was relatively uneventful; traffic was very light, in fact, because the ownership of automobiles was not common in Ravenspire. The country's rough terrain limited the vehicles' usefulness, and extensive mass-transit systems took up the slack. Deeper in the heart of the city, the streets might be thronged with tourists and citizens, but here, near the outskirts, that wasn't the case.


*Upon arriving at Tir Kitsu, Janus Mew nodded her approval of the site.*

Janus: "It's very beautiful."

"I'm glad you approve," Shizuka said. She seemed to be relaxing more. "The facilities are fairly extensive. There's a hot spring, a gym, the beach nearby... cars have been set aside for your use, if you'd like to go anywhere. Or if you'd prefer something sent to your room -- food, drink, sex, drugs -- the staff will be happy to accomodate you."

Meltak walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.
"What are you doing?" Jovian asked just as he was about to leave the apartment room.
"Changing," Meltak replied.
"Into what?"
"My robes," Came the muffled reply.
"Oh god..." Jovian said rubbing his forehead. "You are going to cause people to look at us."
"And your sword won't?"
"Well I... I have to give that one to you," Jovian said.
Meltak stepped out, he was now wearing the Ta'ai robes, they were orange, with two red lines running down the front and back.
"Lets go to the festival," Jovian said, and they headed off.

As Jovian had predicted, the bright orange robe was eye-catching; and, while carrying a sword was relatively common, so that one might spot a person wearing one every few hundred feet on the street, it seemed the blades of choice here were thin-bladed rapiers or curved, single-bladed swords similar to katana, very different from Jovian's massive blade.

Some of the attention seemed mildly disapproving -- an elderly gentleman eyeing the pair sidelong as he passed by. Some was merely curious or disbelieving -- a middle-aged man raising an eyebrow at the sword, a cat-woman examining the robe with casual interest for a moment. And some was rather admiring, as with a group of schoolgirls who swept past, giggling.

Walking through the city was a slightly jarring experience. Each street appeared to have been designed by a different architect, so that one would be nothing but gleaming glass skyscrapers, while the next would boast buildings, to all appearances, transplanted directly from sixteenth-century Vienna, and the one beyond that would be lined with gleaming asymmetrical crystalline masses out of some sci-fi visionary's sketchbook.

Amusements were everywhere, and on the occasion of the festival, this was even more true. One street corner was cordoned off, and the construction of a temporary stage was underway; a small crowd had gathered about it in anticipation, and other pedestrians detoured to avoid it. One of these, a young foxgirl with snow-white hair and fur, was paying too much attention to that and not enough to where she was walking, and bumped into Meltak. "Oh! I'm so sorry..." she stuttered, blushing.

"Say, you wouldn't happen to have a changing booth around here somewhere, eh? I don't know about you, but we don't usually disrobe on the sidewalk. Eh?"


"Ah... quite so." He'd hesitated a moment, though. It didn't help that, somehow, he'd failed to register the suit. David frowned for a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps inside," he said, indicating one of the buildings nearby. "Or we could disable the bending, if you'd rather ride dry."

Alassënyelle considered her small party as they prepared to leave their vessel.
Beside her, like twin shadows were the Hróan, Fëaminë and Fëatta; her personal guardians although they appeared entirely unarmed.
Still seated in a silver chair that appeared to exude from the walls of their craft, the Héri Rúmë, was a porcelain creature, delicate even by elven standards with illuminant blue eyes. Vibrantly garbed in yellow, brighter than saffron rice and woven gold.
The Lady of Ailinhróta, a most prominent city in the Mountains of Silmessë, had come not merely as representative of her elusive home but also as one who spoke for Menelhén; the conglomerate seeking to export Silmellon metal-craft to the world at large.
“Rúmë,” Alassënyelle murmured, drawing the woman out of her distant thoughts. “I will have the Hróan aid you with your many chests.” Beside her Fëaminë and Fëatta threatened to rebel; glimpsed from the corner of her eye she forestalled them. “Ravenspire is no nest of hornets from what I have learned and I do not imagine I will require guardians between this port and our accommodations.”

The Lady of Ailinhróta nodded her head in thanks.
“Massànië,” she said, a soft sigh of exasperation escaping her lips. “I think that I shall insist on brochures for Menelhén. We cannot cart all of the silver in Túrelcë to every market in the world.”
Alassënyelle laughed with her. “Yet there is to be some display of our smith-craft is there not?”
“If it can be arranged,” Rúmë nodded. “Such an opportunity must be seized. There will be revellers from all manner of nations at these festivities.”

Standing behind Rúmë was the youthful but ambitious Cáno, a possible ambassador to Ravenspire should Alassënyelle achieve enough here during this brief visit to the nation.
She hoped that she would not be letting Olorndil down; her brother was stretched thin between his many concerns and as the Lady of the Silmellon it was her duty to provide him whatever assistance she could.
“It is the habit among our kin to seek only the company of our kind,” she said to the would-be Ambassador. “This is not the will of Olorndil. We must offer only our best efforts now.”
Though in effect she was asking him for his best behaviour, Cáno took no offence at her words and she was reassured. Olorndil had chosen carefully, but she knew nothing of the younger Silmello, other than that he came from a small village concealed in the depths of Fanataurë.

She nodded, turned towards the silvered corridor that led out from their vessel, the Silmerámë Fëafánë; wondering if the smells of Ravenspire would be as bland as the closeness of the air pressing around her. It is the resistance to all things not temporal, to that element called magic by some.
She and her companions stepped into the light and though it felt warm as the sun over Silmessë it failed to remove the weight that dampened her extrasensory perceptions and she wondered how long Cáno would be able to hold his place as Ambassor should they achieve their goals.
I miss the glamour of natural air already.

http://gallery.cybertarp.com/albums/userpics/12052/allassenyelle.jpg
Alassënyelle
©Norma A Peters (http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/loth/p/e/peters/galadriel3.jpg.html)
(Used with Permission)

*Janus Mew chuckled light heartedly at the Foxgirl's mention of sex or drugs being sent to their room.*

Janus: "That will not be required, but we appreciate the notion. And narcotics are illegal in Krowemoh, a law I myself passed when I was Princess."

*Troy opened his mouth to speak, but caught a glance from Janus, then he shut his mouth.*

Janus: "You have done more then enough for us. Thank you."

*She bowed to the foxgirl, Troy did likewise, and surprisingly, the Realians followed suit.*

Janus: "When will the festival begin, so we may know when to be ready?"

Dekker awoke the following morning, amongst a pile of empty Guiness bottles... His head was pounding, so he decided to take a shower to ease the throbbing from the previous night's after-dinner drinks...

(pre-reincarnation bump)

Silmellon Delegation

Alassënyelle tapped the keyed plastic card as the private elevator carried the Lady of the Silmellon and her retinue towards the penthouse of the Recherché Hotel.
One of her mysterious lady's-in-waiting; the Hróan had accomplished the task of making reservations and forwarding payment and it only occurred to Alassënyelle in this moment that they'd become more than mere guardians. They'd become part of her staff.

The closeness of the air was beginning to disturb Héri Rúmë and fine beads of perspiration had formed on her delicate brow. When the elevator doors finally slid open, she was the first to slide gracefully out into the vast chamber beyond.
For the next few weeks, the large penthouse would become the Silmellon residence. From what little Alassënyelle could see, it seemed to crown the Recherché Hotel, a floor unto itself rather than a diminitive cornet secreted away at the top of the building.

The Hróan eyed one another, silently communicating and Alassënyelle was at once annoyed that their abilities were unaffected by the strange airs of Ravenspire. Fëaminë remained close at her mistresses side, while the second of the flesh toned beings, Fëatta shifted away to begin examining the many chambers. A security check was already underway.

"Rúmë, Cáno. There are four bedrooms within the Penthouse, they align themselves with the cardinal points of the compass I understand and so I shall take the eastern chamber." Silmessë is east from this realm that smells of stale air, wraps my mind in clammy gauze and makes me long for home.

"I shall take the southern chamber," the Lady Rúmë replied. "It is closest to the elevator." Her pronunciation was careful, stressed although perfectly captured. "When the luggage arrives, I am certain that the porters will be grateful for my choice." Laughter followed her pronouncement.

"There are two chambers remaining Cáno," Alassënyelle said once their musical voices had stilled. "Where lies your heart?"

"In the west," he replied easily. "I shall take the western chamber." He glanced about the entrance chamber, seeking his path before murmuring, "I need to bathe, this cloying air makes one feel almost unclean."

As he passed through an arched opening, into a corridor beyond, Alassënyelle was again concerned about how long a Silmellon ambassador would be able to tolerate the very unmagical airs of Ravenspire.
Leaving Rúmë to wait on their luggage, Fëatta already returned from her uneventful security search remained with the Lady of Ailinhróta while Fëaminë shadowed the Lady of the Silmellon all the way to her eastern chambers.
Though the strange country disagreed with her, Alassënyelle was still eager to discover the culture her people, some of whom she'd heard were exotic. Indeed, the curious foxgirls had been spotted on their journey over to the Recherché and she was looking forward to striking up a conversation with one of them soon.