NationStates Jolt Archive

In orbit over Earth, the Kajali had managed to construct a basic waygate, constituting what must have been one of the silliest abuses of technology yet.

While by no means permanent, they essentially built a giant ring (http://theros.illuminati-fiction.net/images/nationstates/gate.jpg) to facilitate transport to a _party_. Not for trade, or travel back and forth like that a highway would see.. but a single party.

Said party, of course, was at the Ardan Embassy in Kajurmani, on Kajal Prime. The fleet of ships that had built the large ring had been slaved to it, and had various cables and whatnot attached to the thing. The ships were pretty much useless for anything else, so it didn’t matter that the stress this thing would put on them would probably make them explode.

Subspace transit would take about half an hour, and then the invited guests would find themselves at the most luxurious party on Kajal Prime.

Emperor Dajal would show up at 10pm local time, and mingle with the other guests before heading off to make finalizations to a certain treaty.

Meanwhile, any guests who arrived before 12 were entitled to free drinks and whatever else they could take that wasn’t nailed down. It wasn’t like it was expensive for the Emperor.

"A human trying to flatter our region," Trabian snorted. "His spine is as thick as his wine, I'm sure, and probably just as fruity." Several Officials within the Court of Orca laughed. "Unfortunately, it would be respectful to acknowledge this foul monkey's presence by sending someone to be poisoned by his delicacies EnheilRas."

"Just what we need, more obsequious humans flocking to kiss the ass of the demonlord," Teel muttered. "Their inability for use mocks my logic more and more. Humanity's only bright spot is that they're not elves, but that isn't saying much, as most tenets are shared between the two."

"I certainly do not have the patience to meddle with them," Manus said. "It's not worth my time when there's so much to do here. Send Belca."

"Belca? EnheilRas, the PointBlade would not be such a wise choice to represent a nation of High Orcs, when He is but a lesser one," Trabian requested.

"Would you rather I send you?"

"Belca is a fine choice, Lord," Trabian rebutted.

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

Belca Bristleback, Pointblade of the 13 Clans within the Clan of the Flaming Skull, was the greatest lesser Orc in all creation. Having proven himself worthy of the Title Pointblade, given to the Mightiest (and thus most justified by Orcish Doctrine), of Lesser Orcs to lead entire armies into the forward melee, Belca has survived more than 300 battles without ever getting injured. Over 2,000 Elves, Dwarves, Demons, Gnomes, Giants, and other opposing beings had died by his hands alone. Even this, and Belca had never been honored to use a Skell in his life. He preferred his Rune weapons, confiscated as les fuits de guerre from the Dwarven Smiths during the kingdoms' collapsings.

Belca hopped upon his Dorn, and rode forward to this Nexus, which would take him into Space. It would be a few hours until he would arrive, but Belca was a hard soldier, and the best warrior regular Orcs would ever know.

The shuttle of Overlord Bradley Steelblood left Arda, rising into orbit and setting a course for the Kajali waygate. It had been some time since he had attended a party, and he had never been off planet. Since there were no pressing matters that required his attention, he would kill two birds with one stone. The Overlord braced himself, and the shuttle entered the waygate.

30 minutes later, the shuttle emerged above Kajal Prime.

"This is shuttle Superior of the Eternal Dominion of Wretchengard, requesting landing vectors..."

The Overlord gazed down at their destination as the shuttle descended to the planet below, wondering what marvels might await...

"Shuttle Superior, this is Kajurmani Starport control. Lock in the following coordinates, and do not deviate from your course. A grav-car will be provided upon landing."

http://theros.illuminati-fiction.net/Nationstates/Kajal/planetshot1.jpg

Unlike most planets, the lights of the Kajali cities appeared blue from orbit, dotting the dark side of the planet. As the shuttle approached, the degree of orbital traffic became apparent. While appearing serene from the makeshift waygate, the space near the planet was swarming with ships, and the small specks that had been visible from the waygate around the planet resolved into stations of varying sizes.

A drop into the atmosphere would reveal the tropical nature of nearly the entire planet, and the Imperial City of Kajurmani would sprawl out beneath. Easily the largest city on the planet, it was situated in an area that was halfway between desert and tropical inland. Other shuttles, gravcars, flying buses, and all sorts of other vehicles filled the sky, moving with muted whirs.

The location of the party, the Embassy, was visible from the starport, itself a large modern building of the new Kajali design standards. It had it's own airpad for grav-cars and other aircraft, and since the security wasn't visible from the starport, the Emperor hadn't arrived yet.

The shuttle Superior would be able to land with nothing more then a slight thud, as a gravcar pulled up to the landing spot assigned to it as it approached.

Music from the Embassy could be heard from the starport as passengers disembarked from their shuttles.

Of course, it was fairly obvious by the way the ears of the greeters at the starport were pointed that the Kajali weren't human.

Not that there was any human in them, either, but after spending some time in a tanning salon, any elf would have blended in.

Of course, there were human citizens in the Imperium...

Belca reached the point on the parchment of map he had scrolled in the pouch on the saddle of the Dorn (http://groups.msn.com/_Secure/0TADyAjUYgbwQHbbmYj8CSSgcKfxAMukGt80QH4T5AKOsh3qcTA3o8RuDzXWdRe!w7wb4858hi0pskXWTza2f8uMdyo1WwDyX8NV NKOr7D2FgdDzRMMIS3w/Dorn.jpg) that he rode, named Enchumae. The 6' tall Orc dismounted his Dorn, looking around at all the. . . the humans and their technology. He wondered if the fact that they could make their magic through science made them haughty enough that they would try to speak down to Bristleback. If such were the case, Belca would gladly take the stick shoved already far up their ass, and ram it through their mouths, and roast their carcass over a spit to be fed to the carnivorous dorn. Dorns weren't much for cooked meat, but they'd never eaten man before. It was indeed a soylent treat unknown to the tastes of his society.

Belca wrapped his hand around a food pouch, containing some fresh carrion. He opened it and hooked it around Enchumae skull so the Dorn could devour it like a feed bag for horses. He petted the fur coat once over, and turned around, walking to the Rift Gate. It was a technology which duplicated what magic had been doing for eons. It seemed that humans may be catching up, but could never outmatch the power they ignored. Belca was a Pro-Magic Orc with Trabian and Dorin, whom opposed the modernization of the Clans, but only to the extent that it left the Dark Circle, Golden Sky, Red Blade, and Dripping Fang Clans out of the modernization.

Ignoring the human presence, and any who would stop an Orc from doing what he wanted in his own region, Belca Bristleback approached the gate. "This is the gate?" He asked rhetorically. "If something goes wrong and I should fall victim to some trickery human, your entire world will be forfeit. I hope you realize this." The Pointblade just grinned a malicious grin, as if half-expecting to die just so the entire nation of Kajal would be slaughtered for it. It seemed justified that Belca would be a martyr one day. . .

The techs around the gate were being careful to avoid eye contact at all costs, as was standard procedure whenever any government official was around. One of them seemed to be checking the gate, while the other began fiddling with some controls over to the side of it. Within a moment, instead of the empty space beyond the gate, what appeared as a reception chamber for such a device appeared, looking very much real.

"You, er... may enter, Milord. Euh, the, er.. staff on the other side should, uh... be able to find a, er... stable for your mount, if you wish..."

The humans on the Ardan side continued to attempt not to draw Belca's wrath while a rather dark skinned Kajali rushed over to the gate on the other side.

Overlord Bradley Steelblood gazed in astonishment as the amount of space traffic became apparent. Even the pilot was surprised, for he was not used to such an amount of vessels. He managed to stay on course, however, and Steelblood soon felt his shuttle landing softly on the pad that they had been designated.

The Overlord gazed around as he disembarked the shuttle, studying the Kajali and his surroundings. The climate was much warmer than he was accustomed too, and the architecture was much different too. And the people! Similar to dark skinned elves in appearance, but he would try not to hold it against them. It was at that point he noticed the gravcar waiting to take him to the embassy. Flanked by four of his Iron Guard, he approached the gravcar and climbed in. Within moments, they would be at the embassy, where the most luxurious party on the planet awaited...

The techs around the gate were being careful to avoid eye contact at all costs, as was standard procedure whenever any government official was around. One of them seemed to be checking the gate, while the other began fiddling with some controls over to the side of it. Within a moment, instead of the empty space beyond the gate, what appeared as a reception chamber for such a device appeared, looking very much real.

"You, er... may enter, Milord. Euh, the, er.. staff on the other side should, uh... be able to find a, er... stable for your mount, if you wish..."

The humans on the Ardan side continued to attempt not to draw Belca's wrath while a rather dark skinned Kajali rushed over to the gate on the other side.

"I would not touch my Dorn if I were a fleshy human like you. They do not take well to any non-Orc, and would snap your hand off your wrist just to see you bleed with their jaw," Belca informed of the domesticated dorn. Belca almost grinned, his eyes full of dare. He wanted to see one of them test his statement. He wanted proof that his judgement was not flawed.

The PointBlade adjusted his Splint Mail, and stepped through the WayGate. As soon as he entered the Kajali Dominion, he opened a satchel, and picked out a blue rod. This was actually an arcane transmitter. He would just need to find a secure place in which to place it, as it would be quite useful if ever relations would go awry with this pathetic civilization. Seeing as he was in a building, he placed it back in the satchel, hanging from his belt, along with three other satchels.

Belca came armed, as was the custome of the Flaming Skull. A Shield made of ornately designed gold that was shined so well that it seemed to be a mirror (possibly a gold-mithril alloy), was fixed to his back, yet a scabbard was beneath it, where only a beautifully crafted pommel of a 4' long blade could be seen. A Hand Axe, double-headed, hung from his left hip. All of these items were Great Rune Weapons, and incredibly powerful. They were all sentient, and respected Belca, as they knew Belca's secret, and he knew theirs. Belca was trained in Blade Law, so he was well prepared to command such powerful weapons.

The Orc looked around the embassy's reception area with the strong urge to spit on the floor, and then dropkick whomever came to clean it up to see if he could snap their neck in a single fell swoop. This was pretty much how fondly he thought of humanity. One must not question what he thought of the "noble race" of Elves, for it was much worse indeed. Belca was still alive during the enslavement, and no one quite questioned Bristleback's age. He was just always there in complete and loyal servitude to the persuit of the ChumRas Orka. He would always be there. . .

Belca snorted once, "Show me," was his only command. It was enough.

The Kajali receptionist (who was quite possibly two hundred years old) seemed unfazed. She had a lot of practice with such guests, of course. She worked not for the embassy, not in the traditional sense, but for LUNA, the government's Black Ops division.

She was clad in obviously military attire, and the uniforms of IKSF officers consisted entirely of leather, with various shades of red, green, or blue on the shoulder of a jacket. The receptionist's jacket had a gray shoulder.

Not that anyone outside the government would notice, but a gray shouldered jacket usually cleared a path for the wearer instantaenously.

She walked over to the door into the reception hall, which slid open without a sound, and made two simple statements.

"Weapons are not allowed at this function, in the event that any of the visitors wish to assassinate the emperor. They may be stowed however you choose."

---

http://theros.illuminati-fiction.net/images/nationstates/kajurmani.jpg

The gravcar skimmed along near the tops of the buildings, far above any civilian traffic, and this height allowed the passengers quite the view of the city below. The entire capital seemed to be in a state of celebration, and if one asked why, the response would be that today was a new national holiday, for today would be the day that the Imperium crushed the martian rebels in Kajal Mars.

Baraimaru, they called it. Defeat of Mars.

The embassy grew beneath the grav car as it descended to the platform, itself lavishly decorated. Several other cars had touched down, and guides had walked down the ramp to the pad in a column two wide and six deep, before spreading out to each individual landing area in a choreographed action.

The Emperor's pad would remain empty until at least 10, but he would possibly show up earlier. The guides stood at their stations, each clad in sleek leather suits that hugged all the right curves, each with a single burgandy shoulder.

For the cars that had touched down, the female guides had opened the doors for the occupants, and answered any questions while they stood there looking like the most famous Kajalan supermodels.

Which they were.

Fir she chuckled then it came a full laugh, oh a party in Arda, and it seemed no one was keeping it an exclusive guest list.... Iyaana left later that very day.

The 'Harlequin's Dance' Was the Flagship of the Harlequin fleet a mammoth ship of war, it was to be the insurance ffor Iyaana, of course they where not foolish enough to bring a War Ship into Orbit of Arda, at least not openly, to anyone watching it was simply a normal Yaucht, the fact that in her holds where 200 Aspect warriors ready to do a fast extraction would remain a secret.

'This is the Kionash Vessel, 'Laughing-Song' to the Kajal Gate, High Farseer Iyaana requests permission to attend the party to celebrate your rightful reclaiming of your Martian assets.'

Aboard the vessel Iyaana smiled, she was dressed lightly, the Armour of Vaul formed a suitable Goldern outfit for the event, elegent, formal, yet funtional, by her side she carried the Witchblade of her office and on her person was Meliens, Spirit Stone.

"Laughing-Song, permission to enter the gate has been granted. Proceed when ready."

The gate itself flashed briefly, and the indicators around the edge came on, showing it was ready to enter.

"Your arrival time is calculated at 9:30 local time. On arrival in the Kajal system, landing directions will be furnished. If your vessel is not capable of planetary landings, a shuttle may be used. If this vessel meets Kajali transportation requirements, it can be used in place of a gravcar."

The transmission ended rather abruptly.

The presence of the Yvressi, as always, demanded countering, where they showed their flag, the empire always aimed to show their – larger – one. A little immature it seemed at first, but still, it had its uses. Besides Mephet'ran had had fun last time he’d met the Eldar leader. She would doubtless provide entertainment, they always did.

Thus, he had a specially modified ship prepared, a necron styled liner, equipped with the shadowfields of the Dark Eldar of Raem, presumably a common enough site over Arda. It approached the gate and deactivated the fields, the sphere of darkness vanishing to reveal a very strange vessel.

http://www.angelfire.com/scifi2/iimperium/liner5.JPG
((Pictures seem to be in vogue))

It of course did so after the Yvressi ship had transited the gate, it had no desire to spook them out of it so early. It transmitted to the Kajali, “This is the C’tan liner Vilkar’ran, requesting permission to transit your gate, carrying an imperial diplomatic delegation to attend your party…”

"Permission granted. Proceed when ready."

The icons around the gate's edge flashed blue, signalling that it was active.

(ooc: Not much else to do but say Go Ahead, heh...)

'Understood we are sending the technical details of the High Farseers personal shuttle now, we hope this meets with your requirements'*

Transiting the Web the Farseer smiled, so the little games would begin, she wondered what peopls response would be, it seemed a safe bet that much Arda would be in attendence, she would be amongest those that where her potential foes, exactly as she hoped.

((Fast forwarding a Litle.))

The Sleek lines of the Shuttle left the suppossed Yacht, and made quick time to the Embassy. her only companion on the trip was a lone droid, it would stay aboard the vessel, oh and of course the Pilot. So far things seemed to have gone well on the test.

As she disembarked her very attidude spoke of her own belief in her supperiority she paid little attention to those she passed on the way towards the chamber at last she reached the doors and chuckled to herself slightly... So it begins.

OOC *= again the ship is using a Mimic device and the specs of the ship are far less than the reality. This is in actuality a full military grade transport. However the transmitted specs are for a Civilian class Shuttle the Kionash use, and should meet any but the most insane of requirements.

The Kajali receptionist (who was quite possibly two hundred years old) seemed unfazed. She had a lot of practice with such guests, of course. She worked not for the embassy, not in the traditional sense, but for LUNA, the government's Black Ops division.

She was clad in obviously military attire, and the uniforms of IKSF officers consisted entirely of leather, with various shades of red, green, or blue on the shoulder of a jacket. The receptionist's jacket had a gray shoulder.

Not that anyone outside the government would notice, but a gray shouldered jacket usually cleared a path for the wearer instantaenously.

She walked over to the door into the reception hall, which slid open without a sound, and made two simple statements.

"Weapons are not allowed at this function, in the event that any of the visitors wish to assassinate the emperor. They may be stowed however you choose.

You may also find it difficult to fit through the door on your mount."

---
OOC: He left the Dorn back there. He dismounted and just left it there. It knows what to do. Dorns are intelligent creatures. Openly hostile...but Intelligent.

IC:

Belca grinned, this would be hilarious. He snapped the scabbard from his back, holding it across his hands in a donating manner.

"You're welcome to take it then, if it lets you."

((If you know nothing about Bio-Wizardry or Palladium Rune Weapons, your character's going to take a crash course, and it'll hurt))

OOC: Fixed. ^_^;;

The guide merely touched a button-ish control on her wrist, and a panel near the door slid open.

"You may store whatever you wish in this personal locker. Although I am trained in the handling of various weapons, I am... unfamiliar... with yours, and I cannot appear... damaged... when the Emperor arrives."

She paused for a moment, and turned to face the door.

"I would be honored if you would instruct me in the handling of your weapon after the party, if you would permit it, of course."

OOC: Either you're lucky, or you read the Regional Civil HQ real quick

IC: Belca's lips cracked. That was tricky. A pity, but clever nonetheless. His long green fingers bent downwards, and the sword slipped from them. Instead of going into the hole, the blade stopped itself, hovered, and rose into the air. It spinned around half a dozen times at least, and then snapped back into Belca's grip. The Orc had no control over this at all.

Just what the hell were you going to do!? You think that dark place is fit for my kind? Such a prison! I do not deserve punishment. How many souls must I rip from their bodies before I am treated with the respect that should be granted to me? The blade spoke, telepathically linked to Belca and only to Belca, as Belca was its wielder, and was cursed with being able to communicate with the beings trapped inside the weapons. It's name was, when translated from Dwarvish to Orcish to HumanSpeak, SoulRend, but there was probably a lot of misinterpretation and controversy about it. It hadn't responded to that name at all.

"I'm afraid he doesn't like the dark," Bristleback commented with as much sarcasm as possible. Belca could not control the blade's whims, but he could indeed dominate its will, but it would be at the cost of his relationship with the blade, something an immortal and indestructible being would not take lightly at all. They were selfish and arrogant sons of bitches, but they deserved what accolades that they received.

Belca tightened the belt around his chest as he snapped the scabbard to his back again. It seemed to shut up, at least. Belca wanted the Sword to act as the Axe did: Silently. Then again, he carried the Axe the longest, so there was more than a mutual level of fondness and understanding between the Orc and his Axe, surnamed Lothedrikoth, something that had never been bothered in which to find any meaning. Belca's shield, however, was a recent achievement, and had yet to possess it long enough for it to recognize him as its primary owner.

Belca Bristleback, PointBlade of the ChumRas Orka, stood defiantly in the course of a decision that was obviously not his to make. He took a single step forward, ready to take another if need be, to emphasize that these beings did not wish to leave their master. Any containment given, they would destroy and fly back to him. As aggravating to the Orc as they seemed, they were loyal. "They do not wish to be confined, I shall not let them. Its not the trust of my race that's on the line here human, its yours. Test your own trust. If you wish to align yourself with our region, you must learn to respect our customs. In the Clan of the Flaming Skull, a warrior unarmed is a warrior dishonored. As you can see, it's quite impossible for me to be unarmed. You have two choices here. You reject my presence here, and make a terrible faux pas that will cause you to lose favor with any non-human in this whole island, or you swallow your pride and show us you have a pair and let me walk by."

And so the cards were shown.

OOC: Brief.

The guide touched the small control, and the locker slid shut.

"The main hall is this way."

Belca nodded, "A wise decision human. Wise Indeed."

And so the Orc followed.

Iyaana smiled as she made her to the Party a quick last minute change had been made in the Shuttle before leaving, her Witchblade had been leftbehind in the capable hands of her Dragondroid, as always the standard procedure for the Robot would be to ensure she would have the blade if she truely needed it... even should the Droid be destroyed in delievering it to her...

Now onto the Ball... She did wonder at what the response would be to her presence but, she actually looked forward to it in someways...

Narotama Suharto, the Captain of the Imperial Marshals, had been chosen as the Imperium's representative to the gathering, along with two of his colleagues; Khaled Sudani and Janos Hasek. The three of them essentially represented the three main races of men who followed Lord Melkor; the Easterlings, Haradrim, and Dunlander they were, respectively.

They departed Ali'Staan late one evening with little fanfare, travelling in a modified gravitic gunship. The craft was not visibly armed, but it had enough tricks up its sleeve to escape most engagements, should push come to shove.

Upon approaching the Kajali waygate, the craft slowed gradually, and a dispatch was sent:

"This is Skyhammer One from Dor Daedoloth, requesting transfer coordinates for our re-emergence at Kajal Prime. Take us on in."

Melkor, Lord of Darkness
He who Arises in Might
Emperor Eternal of the Imperial Dominion of Melkor Unchained, Lord and Master of Arda
http://people.vanderbilt.edu/~darion.c.smith/melkor.jpg

The Overlord arrived at the embassy at last, with his ever-present Iron Guard following close behind him. He was about to enter the reception hall, when he was informed by a guard of some sort that weapons were not allowed in the function.

"Well, there's this and this," he said, pulling a pistol and a dagger from his robes and handing them over. "My guards can wait outside, as well." His hand dropped to his legendary blade, which hung from his belt.

"I'm afraid I cannot hand over my sword, however. It is as much a symbol of my authority as my crown," he said, tapping the iron circlet atop his head. "I can, however, tie the blade with a 'peace chord,' to prevent it from being drawn quickly. Will that suffice?"

The Overlord waited for the Kajali security officer to answer...

"Ah, of course, your Excellency. Please, this way..."

---

"Skyhammer One, this is Waygate Control. The subspace corridor has been established. Hold your current course. Your travel time will be approximately half an hour, or less."

The blue icons around the gate started blinking as Skyhammer One made it's way through the ring, and as soon as it had disappeared, the lights dimmed. They would be able to arrive at the embassy before the Emperor of Kajal, so they would have time to speak with various representatives from the government as well.

Further down the corridor, a small Kajali probe struggled to transit into subspace.

"Acknowledged. Current approach vector locked and set in," came in the reply from the Imperial Shuttle.

A short while later [presumably], the craft emerged on the other side. Imemdiately, it sought to hail whatever Kajali command station might guide them in.

"Imperial Shuttle Skyhammer One, requesting landing coordinates for our diplomatic mission. Over."

[ooc: feh, I always hated these parts. shall we say, then, that I get to the party, wherever it is, relatively unmolested? I certainly hope so :P]

Then out of no-where a strange alien life-form known as gwelligantirelicanflibedydoodaaaooob appeared and began to devour the whole space crew and all of their cheese stores.

"GOOD LORD" Screamed billy the cabin boy, "WE'RE ALLLL GOOONNA DIIIIIIE"

"Not today Billy"

Everyone turned to face the heroic space pirate captain cheese who was weilding a space sword 100% constructed of chedder cheese.

"Prepare to die space scum" the captain said in a low voice

"giajdjahdkbsdbhsafbdhjabfjhbdfbdas" said the monster

"Well if thats the way its gonna be"

Swiiiiiiiiiiiish. The captain swung his sword and chopped off the monsters face with pretruded 5 meters from his head. Green and Blue goo rushed from the hole where his face used to be. The monster fell to the floor and the day was once again saved.

"To infinity and BEYOND" screamed the captain.

The end

All my love

BeN

:twisted:

[ooc: feh, I always hated these parts. shall we say, then, that I get to the party, wherever it is, relatively unmolested? I certainly hope so :P]

OOC: Yes. And preferably without weird attack of the newbies, too.

IC: The embassy's main ballroom, where the party was being held, was quite an expansive space. The walls were adorned in what appeared to be post-modern type decor, as the entire room was lacking in what usually accompanied embassies - ancient paintings and fragile looking velvet couches that were made who knows when.

The interior of the embassy was very much like the rest of Kajal. Modern. There were tables set aside for a dinner, but for the time being, the only things in the middle of the room were the guests, and various art pieces that were sufficiently large as to not be moved.

There was one such object in the center of the room, and in front of it, was the source of the music that was currently playing, a large, powerful looking sound system.

Most would consider likely consider such a party a rave in comparison to the dull and drab dinner parties other nation's diplomats held, but the Emperor wouldn't have it any other way. The room was bright and vibrant, as were the guests.

There was an area set aside for Kajal's honored guests, of course, above the main floor of the ballroom, and it was complete with all the luxuries one could think of.

"Welcome to Kajal," the guide said. Some more attendants at the bottom of the sleek ramp up to the balcony bowed as the guests from Arda and other nations passed.

Narotama Suharto and his companions strode into the room slowly, a mild look of annoyance passing over the Captain's face as the music roared through the room. He casually regarded the mass of writhing bodies that populated the main ballroom, and nodded in turn to each of his colleagues as he slowly began to climb the stairs. He drew in a sharp breath as Hasek and Sudani took a quick look around.

This could be interesting.

Domin Yabrant was interested in this "party" he had been hearing about. His job was to gather information, after all, and what better place to do it than at a function attended by diplomats from other nations of power? After leaving a message with his secretary for the Administrator-General explaining where he'd gone, he called the captain of his ship and ordered him to prepare for departure.

Later....

With a flash, a peculiarly designed ship...well...streamed into the sector where the ring had been constructed. There was no other way to describe the arrival. It began with the front of the ship, which appeared at first to be almost liquid, and followed with the rest of the craft. The ship solidified as it came fully into the area.

"Kajali gate control, this is the GANS Tecumseh on its way to the party. Please provide us with instructions for passing through the gate."

http://moderators.united.net.kg/NS%20Pic%20Hosting/Capital%20Ships/Pak-Scimitar.JPG

"Simply plot a course through the ring. The gate will take care of the rest.

Meanwhile...

Ambassador Lume had been waiting in the balcony for the group of guests from Arda, sitting in an armchair with a superb view of the stars leading to the area. The music was dulled slightly by the distance from it's source, but it was still present.

"Ah, welcome. As I'm sure you've noticed, this event is somewhat different then your average diplomatic party. Below us are the wealthiest and most famous members of Kajal's society. They have all paid what can only be termed as exhorbitant sums to be here, so that they may glimpse the Emperor himself."

Lume stood up, picking up what appeared to be a martini as he did, before walking over to the balcony railing.

"There are ample refreshments here, and I can answer almost any question that you could ask of me. The Emperor himself should arrive shortly."

Belca stepped into this ostentatious hall, aware of the uselessness of the species he was dealing with. Belca enjoyed the Orcish ability to decorate. Everything in High orcish cities were small, and efficient, and totally geared for war, as a military culture would permit. Places such as those whose main purpose was to be exuberant and show-off tended to really just disillusion Belca to what was going on in their mind. Belca was not someone to try to impress with fancy things. Belca only appreciated two things: courage and conquest. The Pointblade would find himself hard-pressed to speak politely to any of these cretins. He would make them respect from fear.

The music, however, seemed to be most peculiar. Belca saw no one beating on drums or playing instruments, yet the music seemed to be blaring on. This confused the Orc, who noticed the large boxes pasted in areas that seemed to contain bands of faerie-folk playing inside them at rediculous levels, perhaps due to a mystic fulcrum which amplified their sound. The Orc, whose extended sense of smell, enough to track a person by their scent, or even their blood, up to 300-500 feet, was caught off guard by the raunchy smell of sweaty humanoid bodies rubbing up against each other, jumping up and down as if the floor was made of rubber, making gestures of sexual intercourse in extremely lewd manners. Belca was indeed disgusted by this dancing, though ritual in its base, was somehow angled more towards courting than worship.

If Belca were to understand that these were the habits of the Kajali Nobility and Aristocracy, he would have no trouble believing that the common proletariat was a nymphomaniac whom publically implanted his seed on the roads in a gesture of salutation and whose only mode of transportation would be inside the pouch of an overgrown marsupial.

The Orc crossed his muscular arms, sternly looking down on the orgy.

OOC: heee... Can't say I expected something different, but I was caught completely off guard by that post. ^_^

The nymphomaniac line is classic. Heh.

IC: Ambassador Lume noticed Belca glaring at the guests below, of course, and for some reason, he felt the need to... clarify... why they were dancing in such a manner.

"Do not let their appearance fool you. While our... guests..." Lume used the term loosely, "may very well be enjoying themselves, a good deal of them could find themselves on a tour of the inner workings of the local materials reclamation plant if the Emperor is... displeased... by the success of his party."

Domin's ship passed through the gate, and he soon arrived at the party.

"This is Domin Yabrant aboard the GANS Tecumseh, requesting coordinates to land for the party."

(I'm assuming that he makes it without incident.)

Domin took in the peculiar celebratory methods of the partygoers. He had seen many odd foreign customs, so one more didn't particularly bother him. Looking around, he spotted emissaries from Tor Yvresse, Wretchengard, and some Orc nation he was not familiar with. His breath escaped with a hissing sound. That one is a Dunlander! It was not hard to spot the two other representatives of Arda, once he was looking for them. He would have to be careful. The Administrator-General had ordered him specifically never to get involved with that particular realm.

OOC: heee... Can't say I expected something different, but I was caught completely off guard by that post. ^_^

The nymphomaniac line is classic. Heh.

IC: Ambassador Lume noticed Belca glaring at the guests below, of course, and for some reason, he felt the need to... clarify... why they were dancing in such a manner.

"Do not let their appearance fool you. While our... guests..." Lume used the term loosely, "may very well be enjoying themselves, a good deal of them could find themselves on a tour of the inner workings of the local materials reclamation plant if the Emperor is... displeased... by the success of his party."

OOC: Belca's experience with modern technology is very light. As such, his grasp of its innerworkings are primitive to only seeing the cosmetic outside and geniusly thinking of how to create it through innovations regarding magical creatures and little spells that would actually work if they were put together. He's not exactly an optimist from his disertations on your society, but if there's a conflict, you'd find hard-pressed to find anyone that had as much confidence as he, no matter the odds.

IC: "How does your kind measure success exactly?" quoth the rough voice of the 'lesser' Orc. Belca grinned as he answered his own question mentally with, By how many infants slide from the dresses of your whores during their dancing? but would wait for the answer anyway. He stared for a moment at this ambassador, or as Bristleback would come to understand it: kisser-of-ass.

The kisser-of-ass seemed to be dressed fancifully, as if he had just escaped from a bondage chamber. It was silly to Belca, but if that is what the kisser-of-ass deemed comfortable to wear, than to each their own. The Pointblade wouldn't want to stroll down the Hall of Blazing Hammers in such clothes, let he be splashed with molten iron and turned into a bipedal fireball as a prank. Such things were done because, frankly, they could be done, as the Barber's were so competant in healing and priestly magicks that anything, sleight of death via dismemberment and disbowelment, could be stitched swiftly.

The dark eyes of the green one were squinted slightly as he noticed Domin noticing him. Belca was indeed the least 'humanlike' in the Planet, but he considered this a blessing. Humans were ugly. Humans were stupid. Humans were barbarian monsters. Humans were weak. Humans were cowardly. They were more dispicable than Elves in Belca's opinion, even if just for the fact that they enslaved each other. He found no other race that was so ardant to destroy itself that it would so swiftly take existence with it. Belca grinned, thinking of a mighty trick to make this Domin character piss himself.

"Success, as you put it, would depend on one's loyalty to the emperor. The lives of those who disobey him are forfeit, although he has been known to dispatch such elements in... interesting ways.

The Materials Reclamation plants, for example. One who is sent there may very well come out as a table, or a chair."

Lume noticed Domin's near-staring at the residents of the balcony as well, and looked momentarily angered, before stalking off to a small console recessed in the wall.

"You were supposed to restrict entry! How could you be so... stupid? Ah, yes.. you thought it was best, that it would please the Emperor..

We'll see what he has in store for you afterwards."

The whole affair was attempted to be as quiet and unnoticable as possible, but it was doubtful it was anywhere near that.

The music abruptly stopped, and was replaced with instructions being sent to the crowd below.

"You will all proceed to make yourselves appear as appealing to the senses as possible! The Emperor will arrive shortly!"

There were multitudes of gasps from the crowd below, and the music began once more, as the crowd quickly touched up it's make up, adjusted clothing, and began to dance in a far less lewd manner then before.

There was a momentary sound of a military transport landing on the pad, and the music faded out as a single person entered the room, followed by a large entourage. The crowd turned to face him, and before dropping to their knees, they said, in unison, "Hail Sorath, our generous and loving Emperor! You are our guiding star, our brightest sun!"

The Emperor was dressed in a dark black military uniform that held the sheen of leather, and was decorated with scores of medals and clasps. Over one shoulder, a lush silk cape that was red as blood was draped, as the rest of it billowed behind him.

"Hail Kajal! She is both strong and graceful, and without her, there would be no medium in which my light would shine."

The crowd responded with a hearty "Hail Kajal!", and the Emperor turned his attention towards the balcony, heading up towards it. Lume had disappeared momentarily, but reappeared dressed similarly as the Emperor, as the Imperial Statutes required one to be in complete dress uniform in His presence. Lume had fewer medals and citations on his uniform, and his cape was a verdant dark green, denoting his rank.

"Welcome, milord. These are our honored guests. The Pointblade, Belca Bristleback, of the Thirteen Clans of the High Orcs, Narotama Suharto, Captain of Lord Melkor's Imperial Marshals, Khaled Sudani, and Janos Hasek, colleagues of the honored Captain, and this is His Excellency, of Wretchenguard, and his Iron Guard."

The Emperor walked towards the balcony, where they would all be able to see him, and he them.

"I am Emperor Sorath Dajal the Second, and I welcome you to Kajal. I would think that we have much to discuss, no?"

In the background, Lume hit a small switch which enabled Privacy mode in the balcony, and the guests on the floor below it were no longer able to view the balcony, as a solid screen descended, creating a large mirror on the side facing the floor, while those in the balcony could still view the crowd, if so inclined. The door from the stairs closed as well, and soundproofing kicked in at the same time as the air in the room was purified by filtering systems, removing any trace of the scent that permeated the dance floor below.

Meanwhile, lesser ambassadors attempted to find the representatives from nations that hadn't exactly been on the guest list, so that they could escort them to a separate room, which ambassador Lume would address when the Emperor granted him leave to do so.

Narotama and his men negotiated their way through the Emperor's entourage as best they could manage, finally presenting themseves to the decidedly decadent Kajali executive.

The Marshals bowed in unison, and Suharto extended his hand. "Greetings, my Lord. I would go through the trouble of introducing myself and my men," he said, with a cursory gesture to the two men standing on either side of him, "but it seems you know who we are already," he concluded with a grin. "I myself am much honored to meet you, Emperor Sorath, as I'm sure my colleagues are as well."

Sudani and Hasek both bobbed their heads in agreement, their arms folded behind their backs, standing tall behind their Captain. Suharto continued. "Indeed we hope very much that our two nations' relations prosper, and I'm sure that they will, in due time," he finished with a nod.

Janos Hasek stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Arda has, for a time, been seeking an ally dominant in the arts of space travel and space warfare. The Imperium, ove rthe course of modern history has been decidedly..." he paused. "Lacking in that department."

Suharto and Sudani exchanged glances. Hasek continued. "Now that your an Ardan probate, what can we expect Kajal to contribute to this alliance, besides filling the aforementioned gap?"

"Ah, yes. Aside from filling that particular gap, I can provide the means to construct interstellar vessels. Such facilities would be modular in design, of course; we would send the initial station to the reciever via subspace catapult, and work from there. Kajal can also offer a variety of weaponry for both spatial and ground use. Such weaponry would include the plasma cannons and lances commonly found on my Imperial Warships, as well as heavier weaponry for various installations.

Aside from spatial applications, my armed forces contain varied and highly mobile strike craft, from the gunship that shares my namesake to the highly maneuverable and deadly atmospheric fighters that are designed to be able to dock with any suitable carrier, be it a naval vessel, or one that operates on gravitic technology.

In the area of infantry, Kajal can offer the aforementioned weaponry, as well as armor that will fit most humanoids. However, I doubt that standard infantry armor is superiour to anything that your respective nations possess. In all likelyhood, it is equivalent to it."

The Emperor had paced a little as he had talked, making hand gestures in the process, before stopping over by a buffet that had been recessed into the far wall. He pulled a few grapes off a platter and turned around.

"Instead of merely filling the gap, I can provide the means to make it as if that gap had never existed.

To do so, however, would require industries to support it. Kajal is ruled by High Technology, as you have no doubt seen. Economic involvement with Kajal will mean an influx of a good deal of tech-oriented corporations into the Ardan markets. From biogenics to advanced R&D, the exchange between our nations would be quite beneficial. Arda would have access to any new technologies the corporations could develop, as well as refinements upon existing ones before the rest of the market, and by the time the rest of the market had access to these items... We would be at least one generation ahead of them in every aspect."

The Emperor popped a grape into his mouth, and waited for the response.

*bump*