NationStates Jolt Archive

First Speaker Griffin sat at his desk in Downtown Housdon, the government capitol of Imitora. His eyes danced back and forth over his daily breifings, updates, new reports, and the like. One specifically caught his eye.

PPRO, Today, One Year, Region, Your Call.

He smiled. Today was indeed the one year aniversary of teh founding of the region in which his nation resided, the Allied Powers. The APTO, as it was informally known, had grown a bit since the arrival of Imitora, and infact, had grown a bit since before that time.

Just about every diplomatic function was held in Adejaani, but they were a UN nation, so they had to be usefull for something other than the wiping boy for just about everyone. However, little, if anything, regional related, was held in Imitora. Sure, one of the confrences had been, but war and other obstacles changed that. But now was the time for Griffin to show off.

He quickly grabbed one of teh pens out of its holder, and went to writting. Normally, a diplomatic invitation would be typed, implanted on a sheet of clear, hardened plastic, barcodded, and sent via mass mailing to the representatives of the nation being invited. However, this one would be typed and put on nice paper for sending to APTO nations, and broadcasted upon diplomatic channels to everyone else.

When he had finished writting, he sent the messages to the leaders of the APTO messages the best way he could, and also sent a similar message to the rest of the world.


To my fellow Allied Powers regional members,

Today is a great day. It signifies the first full year of the existance of our region. It is with great pleasure that I announce the opening of our collective arms to your government heads, both political and symbolic should the case be, to attend an aniversary gala to be held tonight in the city of Newport on the western coast of Imitora. The gathering shall be held at my private villa, and of course, security will be provided. A dinner shall be served in which members will be offered the chance to say a few words about their expieriences in the region, and where they see and hope the future of the Allied Powers to be heading. Following this will be a time for a sort of, meet and greet, so to say. I look forward to seeing you all here, and hope that the last minute announcement shall not cause to much trouble. Thank you, with best regards,

First Speaker of the Domain and all of Her* Peoples John Griffin
http://www.theforce.net/jedicouncil/castingcall/pics/burt.jpg

He then typed up a diplomatic announcement, and sent it off on the standard diplomatic lines of communcations to all nations willing to recieve it.

[code:1:5cdf6badee]
To the leaders of the nations of the world

Today, the APTO Region celebrates its one year aniversary, and, you are invited to attend a gala in honor of this achievement. All nations in good standing with the region, harborign no ill will towards the region or its members, or allies of the region are welcome to attend. Who knows, you may find out that you like us so much, you wish to join our region as well.

With best Regards,
John Griffin
[/code:1:5cdf6badee]

OOC: *-Imitora, as a nation iteself, is refered to in a feminime term (I.E. her). Also: So yeah, if you like us, want to join the region, or are just board and want some CO-RP, come on down!

Bump!

"Marvellous idea, this." Nathan Black, the Secretary of Defense, noted. Adejaani was frantic with diplomacy on all fronts. Indeed, there were a dozen nations in direct contact with Adejaani, for everything from treaties to alliances to agreements in trade.

"Yes, but who do we send?" President Halvent demurred. "Adejaani and Imitora have historically not gotten along very well. And we can't really spare anyone at this point, not with diplomats from a dozen nations flying around. Hmm."

"I'll go." Everyone's head turned around to face the speaker. "I don't really have much to do." Doctor Marianne Brooks shrugged. "My Deputies at Science, Technology and Manufacturing are fine without me and any design work has been done. Besides, it's been ages and you always keep shoving me back into my lab." Halvent nodded and waved her hand dismissively, reading the latest stack of messages while Brooks left.


The Virtual Democratic Republic of Adejaani will be sending along Doctor Marianne Brooks to represent Adejaani. She shall be arriving soon. To better prepare yourselves, a small dossier of information is as follows:

http://home.iprimus.com.au/quincyw/mbrooks.gif
Name: Marianne Kelsey Brooks, PhD Aeronautical Design
Occupation: CEO, Adejaani Government Industries; Secretary of Science, Technology and Manufacturing
Age: 43
Allergies: Prawns, raw egg, peanuts

The cook looked at the early list of no-gos. He sighed. "So much for the shrimp tempura," he said, flipping through a list of his recipes, trying to find the one thing without eggs.

The Dominion of Adderton wishes to send Vice-Minister Dylan T. Jacobs, Lt. Yam G. George of the Adderton National Guard, Representative Dryden Pierce of the Adderton Parliment, Captain Roland Creek of the Adderton Navy, and Lorne Smith of the Adderton National Symphony.

All things being equal, the Foreign Affairs Ministry certainly wouldn't have considered the birthday of the Allied Powers, with whom it had only fleeting and occasional interaction, to be an event of any import. However, that the party was being held in Imitora tipped the scales far from equal.

Edward Tarriff and his resurgent Conservative government, spearheaded by the Earl of Inswick, often seemed almost eager to overturn the foreign relations policies of the previous Centrist and Liberal governments. Although the Razing was still an even fresh in the population's mind, Inswick often expressed, in private conversation at least, a desire to reopen friendly relations between the Commonwealth and the Domain. He even spoke, in naturally vague terms, of perhaps someday soon extending the hand of friendship to Imitora and sponsoring them for readmittance to the New Highland Alliance.

Of course, even if Lord Inswick's scheme came through with flying colors, it would be a long time in developing. For now, his Ministry would have to content itself with sending a relatively low-level emissary - the official Embassy in Imitora still hadn't reopened - and hoping for the best.

First Speaker Griffin received a return letter, as always on heavy parchment and stamped with the High King's seal, to the effect that the Right Honorable the Viscount Inswick, son and heir to the Foreign Affairs Minister but still a young pup, would be attending in the name of His Iansislean Majesty High King James III Callahan.

OOC: I don't have much time to post, so here is a half-baked job:

IC:
Orion seemed to be getting out to much anymore. Oh well, he thought. He had never been to a large party like this before--unless you counted the Elarian/Adejaanian wedding.

OOC: Ya, I know it's short. It's basicly a big *tag*

bump..and feel free to start RPing arrivals.

James McPherson, Secretary of State, will attend the meeting.
UCSNE Foreign Relations

"Well, a government paid party. And they say there aren't enough perks."

McPherson sat in the seat of the VIP Government painted Tilitjet transport. They were flying along at nearly the speed of sound towards Imitora, and next to them were a pair of F-121 Specters. Although the Markov war was being fought on the offensive, better safe than sorry.

McPherson did look forward to meeting some of the new leaders in the APTO- there had been no UCSNE delegate at the last APTO conference-, he was hoping this event could be of a less tense nature than the earlier meetings. The stories of them seemed ripe for action movies. Leaders yelling, with a climatic mexican standoff between security forces. While that was only the first meeting, the legacy lasted. But there was not that much in the form of security, the usual Marine Class A guard for the airport, a Navy Lieutenant, Jake Garther, but no sidearms for either of them.

The aircraft approached Imitora, and the two Specter banked away from the transport as it began the usual landing requests.

"Why did I ever manage to convince myself we needed the C-77?" Marianne Brooks said, even as she hung on for dear life. As the CEO and an Aeronautical Engineer at Adejaani Government Industries, this was the most interesting aircraft she'd approved. A civilian version of the B-1B Lancer bomber, it allowed for a supersonic personnel transport, with limited comfort.

With a sigh, she looked at the empty seat next to her, which usually would have been filled by her dear friend, test pilot and military liaison. However, that person was now Chief of the Military and couldn't be spared at the moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please note we are on final approach to Imitora. Please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the view." The Air Forces Colonel sounded pleasant and witty. But Brooks frowned. What view? The C-77 had no windows to speak of, except for the pilot and co-pilot.

Up front, the Colonel got on his radio and asked for landing permission, waving at the New Empire aircraft which was on his port side.

Eye five three, this is Spotlight Two Six, we got escorts up and out at angels one two. Buggin is good, going on to escort

Eye five three, Spotlight Two Seven confirms, with Two Six

With that, two F/A-75 Ravens literaly swooped down like birds to flank teh incoming aircraft, offering protection to the runway. Both had received confirmation of landing premision,and were made aware that a greeting party would be there to meet them both.

[code:1:e8ac571c5d]
To the leaders of the nations of the world

Today, the APTO Region celebrates its one year aniversary, and, you are invited to attend a gala in honor of this achievement. All nations in good standing with the region, harborign no ill will towards the region or its members, or allies of the region are welcome to attend. Who knows, you may find out that you like us so much, you wish to join our region as well.

With best Regards,
John Griffin
[/code:1:e8ac571c5d]

Larkinian Presidential Palace

Acting President Michael Davis read the announcement. He'd been more strident about trying to rebuild relations with Imitora than the Foreign Affairs Department had been. He wanted to take the opportunity while it presented itself. But with the elections, and the assassination attempt, he knew now was a bad time to go hobnobbing with world leaders.

Who to send?

Williams? He was a skilled diplomat, despite what Jeff thought of himself. He'd been friends with quite a few people in the nation, but his wife was in critical condition in Celeborne, and Jeff had gone, as usual, MIA to act on his own.

Who else had worked with the Imitorans? A name quickly flashed into his memory.

Javin had worked with their special forces a few times, and had a lot of positive things to say about them. And maybe with his brother in the hospital, Javin would finally learn some decorum. Time to see.

"Aiana," Davis said into the intercom, "Please ask Javin to come into the office."


Dear First Speaker Griffin,

We would be delighted to accept your offer. While I am unable to attend the celebration, I am sending Special Envoy Javin Katana to represent Larkinia...

Davis stopped at that point in the letter, "God help us all.." he said to himself before he finished the letter.

~~~~~~~~Notice of Official Correspondence From The Most Pulchritudinal Republic of Maltese Indochina~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This message being intended for the goodly ministers of Imitora concerned with the matters of the up coming gala:

The Most Quixotic Republic of Maltese Indochina would be greatly pleased if its goodly ambassador Sir Archibold Chung, Knight of the Order of St. Gregarious, would be granted permission and visa to attend the afore mentioned gala. This merits of this request being politely reinforced by with the reputation of Maltese Indochina for a most diplomatic and fastidious mannerism in its dealings with all reasonably minded nations.

With our humblest greetings and felicitations,
Lord Magnus Wang, Maltese Indochina Foreign Secretary and Green Dragon of the Blue Order.

As the guest list grew, Griffin reveled in the fact that for once, people were comming to Imitora for reasons other than to talk the nation out of war. He noticed a name, katana, and ran it through the search files.

It came up with a positive note. According to many reports, all from people Griffin trusted, he was smart, to the the point, and according to one note, quick on a rifle. Katana had worked with Live Wire at one point, and, after hearing about the original, Griffin had invested some stock in a 'privately funded stock and securities' firm, and it had been born again.

He called up his buddy, the acting head of the new Live Wire, Dominic 'Nick' Chavez, and told him to meet Katana at the airport. Afterall, one operative deserves another.

The Airbus squealed to a stop as it touched down on the tarmac. As it taxied to the gate, Javin stood up and slipped on his grey suit jacket.

What in the hell am I doing here? I thought they were tired of sending me out on these things. Well, I could be in a worse place, he thought as he smiled and looked out on Imitora. He could have been in a lot worse places.

The plane stopped at the gate and Javin walked out into the airport.

[deleted for repeating self]

[deleted for repeating self]

Journal of Lt. Yam G. George, Adderton National Guard

________ 11th

This place is richer than Adderton- 'course I haven't been out much, but this beats it thrice over. Me and my men are protecting the entourage and currently finding that our weapons an' such are sticks compared to the rest. I saw one gun that seemed to have the power to nail a wild wolf from 60 paces as well as everythin' in its past. Afson commented that he might as well 'come a preacher now that one of the people here asked 'bout if we war from a re-inactment group.

Oh- almost firgit this: Me an' Afson were doin' the rounds on Mr. Dylan T. Jacobs when we ran into a shop that war sellin' sausages on buns. The funny thing is that th' seller was callin' it "hot dogs". Mr. Dylan bought us some an' it tasted like sausage wi' the exception that it was less juicy. The seller gave us a looong look when I asked them if they had any BBQ sauce or butter.

Adderton->Just so you know, everyone in Imitora is at least 12% Texan, meaning that hot dog guy has at least 357 forms of BBQ Sauce...
IC:

Chavez picked up Katana has he left the plane, and approached, hand extended, smiling. "Hey, Katana, right? Dominic Chavez. Call me Nick. I'm your escort, or something like it."

Nick was wearing a black shirt and kakhi pants, and a pair of dark aviators. "You worked with me once, a while back. I'll explain more if ya want. Right this way," he finished, leading him towards the bagage claim.

Sir Archibold Chung was a proud member of the dying aristocracy of Maltese Indochina. An independent observer would say that he is a "stuffy, pompous, twit," but Sir Archibold considered himself to be "a dignified man amongst the undignified rabble."

This was certainly the case as he sat in the middle seat of a coach flight to Imitora between a husky waitress on vacation and a drunk Japanese business man of uncertain intentions. Sir Archibold sat the entire flight either staring dead ahead or trying to read his book, never looking at either of the passengers next to him. The announcement came on that the plane would be landing in 20 minutes and he began to compulsively brush lint off of his immaculate pinstriped suit and comb his hair until not a strand was out of place.

At the terminal he strode out of the plane looking immaculate with a perfect suit, perfect hair, and perfect posture, the poster-child for anal retentiveness. His small entourage of a secretary and a security man shuffled out behind him looking like two people who had just been on a 17-hour flight in coach, frazzled hair, rumpled clothes, and big black bags under their eyes.

Concealing his disappointment at not recieving the sort of trumpets and rose pedals welcome that a Knight of the Order of St. Gregarious is accustomed to not recieving, Sir Archibold had his secretary go arrange for a limousine and his security man get the luggage.

Sir Archibold arrived at the Gala feeling irritated and pompous, though no more or less than he perpetually was.

"Must be the first time someone from Adejaani set foot in Imitora." Marianne Brooks muttered to herself as she descended the stairs from the aircraft. "No, wait. Secretary Hanson has that honor. Back when Adejaani and Imitora was young and Imitora's President was named Nguyen. That was a long time ago."

Brooks twirled for the cameras, showing off her long red ballgown which clung in all the right places on her figure, something she rarely did. Well, something she rarely did was doff her lab coat and get out of there. Brooks wondered what Griffin was like. She hoped he wasn't like his predecessors. Very few people in Adejaani, like APTO, thought too highly of his predecessors. Only one way to find out......

OOC: Decent post comming soon, but Adj, Griffin is Burt 'The Ultimate Pimp' Reynolds...hehehe

(I meant to respond today..really I did. Ah, well, there's alway tomorrow. Sorry, man.)

Looking at the invitation, the delagate from Vostovik was just wondering what he was doing there. Imitora really bashed the rep from Vos at the APTO meeting which was totally unnessesary becasue there was a misunderstaning.

Oh well he thought, at least I get free food.

Journal of Lt. Yam G. George, Adderton National Guard

________ 12th

An' now they got BBQ sauce. 'course theys got it in a steak restraunt so-

Th' head honchos decided to do a meeting at a nearby steak reestraunt. They were yakkin' it up on the upcomin' conference wi' the leaders an' the party, when one random person came up t' our table [of the bodyguards 'n' such] an' asked if where we got our hats. Afson said that it wa' regulation in the NG an' thus a lively conversation started out on how thar seems to be a dyin' breed about cowboys. 'Course Biddy chimed in on th' factual knowledge of our country with much deriding on him lauchin' into such lengthy wordage. Found out what the guy's name was- a certain merchant by the name of Schrag Imiorita- who does ranchin' on th' side. He was generally surprised on when we mentioned that we do mustang herding as well.

Then Biddy, the smart guy that he is, got Mr. Dry Pierce invovled an' we had no more company 'cept the good richness of our steaks and haggin' Biddy for such idiocy.

Griffin approached Brooks, smiling, and extended his hand. He took hers, which she assumed was for a handsahke, and then bowed slightly, kissing it. "Its my honor to have such a lovely young lady attend our celebration tonight. I hope your flight was not to long and comfortable?" he asked, giving her one of those 'charming for all the wrong reasons' smiles.

He took her arm in his, and lead her to her table, where she would sit, along with the rest of the APTO delegates. He looked Marianne over again, and reminded himself to call Chavez, and tell him to keep his eye on the Larkinian delegate, if what the files said about him were true.

"Sir, we're landing."

The tall, lanky marine looked kind of clumsy, but the polished M9 Carbine, Dark Blue Class As and crimson beret made up for it.

"Thank you, where's Lt. Garther?"

"Right here, sir." The Lieutenant was average height, pale with buzzed brown hair. He wasn't as serious and professional as the marines were acting now, but it was customary to have servicemen come to events in a sort of rotation. That, and the Subfighter pilot had been recognized for his actions in Kurtz.

"Alright then," McPherson said as the aircraft thumped in it's near vertical landing.

The door of the aircraft swung open, and two Marines walked out, rifles in hand but not to their shoulders. They were followed by the Lieutenant, then McPherson, and two more Marines. The Secretary of State and Lt. continued on as the Marines stood stock still.

( :lol: But Javin's a new, happy, shiny type of guy ;) )

Javin smiled at Nick, "Javin Katana, nice to see you," he said as he shook the man's hand as they walked to the baggage claim.

"Which mission were you referring to?"

"Why, Mister Griffin, sir, you do flatter me." Brooks blushed almost as brightly as her dress. "My flight was fine, though I prefer to design, if not fly, the aircrafts my country makes." She looked away, blushing wide eyed (which may be have been a consequence of her thick glasses) and staring slightly at Griffin, amazed by his charm and dazzling presence.

"So when did you become First Speaker? Is it fun, leading a country?"

There hadn’t been an official diplomatic mission from Iansisle to Imitora for years now, ever since the last one left in the wake of the Razing. Being the first official envoy in years was a make or break proposition; on one hand, such a prodigious assignment, if handled properly, could guarantee a place as an official post ambassador. On the other, given the Iansislean public’s rather negative view of Imitora, it could shoot down what otherwise might be a promising career in the Foreign Ministry.

The son of the Foreign Minister himself and heir to one of the oldest and most influential Earldoms on the Shield, of course, would ordinarily have had no problems posting ambassador, even if it was at first just to some third-rate native power. Thus, the Imitoran mission had no positive final outcome, only a neutral one and a very negative one.

The Right Honorable the Viscount Inswick wondered, not for the first time, why his father was risking the Tarriff Government’s position on what really couldn’t even be termed nepotism. If the mission did go horridly awry, the Opposition would be all over the news reminding everyone that the son of a prominent minister was responsible for the disaster. General Elections had to be called within the next year and a quarter and things were already looking bad for the Conservatives. With a scandal like this in the Liberals’ and Centrists’ bags, no amount of gerrymandering, vote buying, or raw influence would save the Tarriff Government, especially in the absence of His Majesty’s favor.

So I’ll just have to make sure nothing does go wrong, thought Inswick to himself as he listened to the Bankfield aero-transport’s engines change pitch and the felt the flyer descend. Unfortunately, the MoFA’s file on Imitora was amazingly thin, and most of what it did contain dated from the Nguyen Administration. Inswick sighed and tossed the file aside. The jolt from the Bankfield’s wheels touching down altered its course - rather, altered the course of the flyer around the airborne sheet of paper - and sent it cartwheeling behind one of the plush seats. No matter; Inswick supposed it would have been as much help in dealing with the Imitorans as the exquisite manners which he had refined for the various Grand Balls of Ianapalis' high society.

All around him, the various members of the mission’s support staff stretched and groaned while the Banksfield’s propellers swung to a slow stop. It had been a long, hard flight from the Shield, but not too many were ready to exit into so barbarous, in the average Joe Iansisle’s view, a land as Imitora. Inswick supposed that, as leader of the mission, it was his job to take the lead and did so, scanning the tarmac for their welcoming committee.

Nick slid into the car next to Javin, and poped the clutch. The car was most likely one of hte few American cars in the nation, but it was worth it. A Classic, perfect condition 454SS Convertable was al but imposible to find, and Nick owned one of them.

"The Williams Rescue, the twins and the chick. Pulled them outa the mansion, Live Wire. Back when Giovanni ran the thing."

The black car slid backwards out of the spot, and turned towards the highway.
________

Hanger 174

Two men, armed with marksmen rifles, watched the Iansisleanian delegates disembark their aircraft. A full 22nd Special Operations Task Force platoon had been assigned to dark security, meaning they stayed far away, but at the same time right on the tail, of the Iansisleanians.

Griffin wanted to turn Imitora around, and step one was getting back into the ANH. Several small seperatisits groups who held the Ians in the same regards as the Daezmanis had been known to operate in less than freindly ways, but with the 22nd on hand, it would make sure things went smooth.

As the delegats disembarked, five black Lexus GS semistretch limmos pulled up, and stopped infront of the Ians. A man stepped out of the center car, and approached the party, hand extended. "Viscount Inswick," he said, almost asking. "My name is Hayden Bradfield, welcome to Imitora. We'll take you to your hotel, and then drop you off at the ball. Is this your first time here?" he asked, knowing full well it was.
_________

Hanger 119

A similar party, although not as well protected, greeted the Empirians. They too, were escorted into cars, and then soon on their way to a hotel in Northampton before being ushered to the party.
________

"Bout three months now," Griffin replied to Brooks. "Its a decent job, but not as fun as my last one. I was a pilot in the INAF, flew the Spectres, before we adopted the Ravens as our front line fighters."

Nick slid into the car next to Javin, and poped the clutch. The car was most likely one of hte few American cars in the nation, but it was worth it. A Classic, perfect condition 454SS Convertable was al but imposible to find, and Nick owned one of them.

"The Williams Rescue, the twins and the chick. Pulled them outa the mansion, Live Wire. Back when Giovanni ran the thing."

The black car slid backwards out of the spot, and turned towards the highway.

"That's right," Javin chuckled at remembering the events, "That was an interesting trip."

He looked around the car as they swung onto the highway, "Sweet ride."

"We try to keep things fun here," Nick said as he slid into the passing lane, and let teh car cruise at 95. "Thanks, it was my dad's. He gave it to me in his will. I do my best to take care of it. Of course, it also has its perks," he said, opening the glove box to show a Umbrella made USP .40, in a custom mount.

"You're staying at the Water Lily, across the street where the party's bein held. Hope ya got a tux," he joked.

OOC: Hey ya'll, sorry but this is all I'll be able to get out tongiht, problems with the gf, shes being dramatic, I dunno why. So I gotta chill out with NS tongiht. Feel free to have yor characters arrive at the party and start mingling and what not.

"We try to keep things fun here," Nick said as he slid into the passing lane, and let teh car cruise at 95. "Thanks, it was my dad's. He gave it to me in his will. I do my best to take care of it. Of course, it also has its perks," he said, opening the glove box to show a Umbrella made USP .40, in a custom mount.

"You're staying at the Water Lily, across the street where the party's bein held. Hope ya got a tux," he joked.

(good luck with the gf dude, *makes sign of the cross* Via con Dios. :P )

"I am? Well at least I have a tux," Javin chuckled, "The Foreign Ministry made sure to give me the crash course on diplomacy before I left."

Javin grinned at the pistol in the glove box. "And what is every good vehicle, without a few firearms inside to make sure it's protected."

Over Imitora, a firey streak forms in the atmosphere a s ships re-enters the atmosphere. It does not head to any airports or whatnot, merely turning in a high arc as several figures leap from it. Each was strapped to a mini-beacon that alearted whatever AA defenses that these were suppsoedly diplomats from Crimmond. And with the Crimmond flare for arrivals, it was just another stunt.

After floating down for a while on parachutes, they make almost perfect landings in the road, most of the figure dodging cars while dragging chutes out of the road, but one landing on the hood of a car(which would be Larkina's, of course) After moving to the sidewalks, they start stripping out of the flightsuits. All four men are dressed in silk suits underneath and are wearing sunglasses. "Allright, where is the party?" one asks.

OOC: I love big enterances....

EDITed for MAJOR grammar stroke in the second paragraph.

For one brief second, Inswick looked as if he'd disdain Bradfield's handshake. After all, only one of equivalent or higher social rank should presume to shake his hand or greet him in such a dreadfully informal manner. As his retinue knew, there were only two people in the entire world borne of Imitora who were higher on the ladder than even an honorary viscount, and Bradfield was without doubt neither of those individuals.

Luckily, he remembered in the nick of time that the success of this mission was much more important than any social snub, real or imagined, intentional or accidental. He grasped Bradfield's hand and shook, though his grip was infirm and out of practice.

"Mr Bradfield," he said after the introduction. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I need to thank you for your government's hospitality. My staff." He waved vaguely at the collection of pencil-pushers, translators, secretaries, and manual laborers. but didn't introduce any of them individually.

"No, I'm afraid I never have had a chance to visit your lovely nation before," he continued as they walked towards the transportation. "I do hope you'll forgive me for saying so, but the ebb and flow of international politics often has a way of estranging even the closest and most natural of allies from one another. I cannot express how delighted I was when I learned that His Majesty, in all his wisdom, had decided to reopen official relations with the Domain."

Sir Archibold looked around the room with his nose held high in the air. It was a spectacular gala filled with leaders of massively powerful nations all looking their most potent and charming. This being the nature of the event Sir Archibold took on the air of an underpaid principal supervising a particularly unimpressive high school prom. He walked about the room bowing woodenly, flashing disingenuous smiles, and kissing the hands of the female dignitaries all the while saying with a refined roll of the tongue his quota of "enchanté," "It is an honor to meet your highness," etcetera etcetera.

As he was in the middle of bowing to some dignitary from a country he'd never heard of he saw the representative of Adejaani. He arched a wicked eyebrow, "She doesn't look like your typical ambassador," he mused. He resolved to formally introduce himself to her... For purely diplomatic purposes, of course.

one landing on the hood of a car(which would be Larkina's, of course)

( :lol: Nice entrance, one problem though, if Javin's not in the hotel, then he's in the still moving car ;) )

Vice-Minister Dylan T. Jacobs sighed. Sitting in the ball room was akin to the many galas he had attended to when he was young. The men in suits were there, accompanied by women of all sizes, shapes, and dresses. As for the Adderton contingent, they stuck out like a sore thumb. Some of them were drinking, trying to make conversation with the other representatives, attempting to make a good impression on them by their good manners and knowledge of international affairs. Others were digging into the appetizers that were offered, comparing it to the various regional foods they had tasted. As for Vice-Minister Dylan T. Jacobs, he just seemed to feel awkward; as if he, the senior of the group, was simply left alone. Shaking his head, Vice-Minister Dylan T. Jacobs spotted a young maid wearing squarish glasses, and walked over to introduce himself.

( :lol: Nice entrance, one problem though, if Javin's not in the hotel, then he's in the still moving car ;) )OOC: A moving car, pfft. Just a bit of road rash... :p

IC: After getting odd looks from just about everyone on the street, the four men start off towards (whatever building has the most people in it) and one grabs a camaera pointed at him. "Try it again and eat this thing." he says, breaking the long lens off it and tossing him fifty Crimmars(worth 5 USD).

They enter without further incidence(should there be any weapons checks, they come up clean for firearms and blades) and look around. In this crowd, they looked like bodygaurds who were missing their represenitive.

THe Vostovik rep sees the men in black and thinks to himself:

Oh no, i know who they are

He quickly finishes his water and goes to the restroom

The photographer, unphased by the man, continued taking pictures of the Crimmond delegates. The press had pretty much free run in Imitora, and if his cammera didn't get a picture, the several security cammeras stationed around the area would, and he could just buy the image for a small sum. He removed another from a cammera bag, and went bag to taking photos.

OOC: Crimmond, I'm gonna go with your entrance, but considering that where they landed is about 90 miles from where the party is being held, and the fact that Imitorans arent exactly the most curteous people, your boys would be walking down a highway in silk suits in 95-100degree sunlight...
________

Bradfield lead the Iansisleanian delegates to the cars, and watched as they all boarded one of the rides. Bradfield slid into the center one, along with Inswick. "Yes I agree. Our government was equally excited when we heard rumors that yours was looking into reopening relations."

The car started to move, and was soon on the highway, a meer hour from the party.
________

Nick wathced as a man bouced off his hood, over his car, and then landed very roughly on teh concrete behind him. He had half a mind to stop, and put a few rounds of .40JHP into him, but decided that the traffic would do the job for him.

"Speaking of keeping things intresting, I have a sort of buisness propsal for you. One of the ideas of the boss man," whose name had yet to be brought up, "is to get Live Wire operatives all over the globe. We're working on places like Iansisle, but that is going to be handled slightly differntly than it would in other places."

Nick switched lanes, and was now easing up to 110, deftly avoiding traffic. "One of the big locations we'd want one is Larkinia. It would, of course, be staffed by Larkinian operatives and the like, but just like teh office here, would be independantly funded and controlled. No government intervention. You pick eleven guys you can trust to get a job done, and thats it. The money comes from an outside source, mostly stock investments and security trades, and some law practice."

He hit an off ramp, and slid into the flow of the slower moving traffic of the streets of Northampton. He piloted the Chevelle towards a hotel off hte main street. The Sunset strip in LA had nothing on Northampton's main strip.

"Of course, we'll put a few operatives there to get you on your feet, show you how the job works, but after that, your on your own. If your up for it, I can explain more. I'm glad they sent you instead of some stuffy diplomat type. Can't talk to them at all about this stuff, don't understand how its done."

He pulled up in front of the hotel, one of the 'one of a kind' types, that made the Ritz look like a Hotel 6. "I'll pick ya up tonight for the party about seven. We can talk more 'bout the offer later." With that, Nick helped Javin get his bags out, and then piloted the car onto the street, where the deep roar of the big block V8 was heard pulling the car onto the highway.

Nick wathced as a man bouced off his hood, over his car, and then landed very roughly on teh concrete behind him. He had half a mind to stop, and put a few rounds of .40JHP into him, but decided that the traffic would do the job for him.

"Speaking of keeping things intresting, I have a sort of buisness propsal for you. One of the ideas of the boss man," whose name had yet to be brought up, "is to get Live Wire operatives all over the globe. We're working on places like Iansisle, but that is going to be handled slightly differntly than it would in other places."

Nick switched lanes, and was now easing up to 110, deftly avoiding traffic. "One of the big locations we'd want one is Larkinia. It would, of course, be staffed by Larkinian operatives and the like, but just like teh office here, would be independantly funded and controlled. No government intervention. You pick eleven guys you can trust to get a job done, and thats it. The money comes from an outside source, mostly stock investments and security trades, and some law practice."

He hit an off ramp, and slid into the flow of the slower moving traffic of the streets of Northampton. He piloted the Chevelle towards a hotel off hte main street. The Sunset strip in LA had nothing on Northampton's main strip.

"Of course, we'll put a few operatives there to get you on your feet, show you how the job works, but after that, your on your own. If your up for it, I can explain more. I'm glad they sent you instead of some stuffy diplomat type. Can't talk to them at all about this stuff, don't understand how its done."

He pulled up in front of the hotel, one of the 'one of a kind' types, that made the Ritz look like a Hotel 6. "I'll pick ya up tonight for the party about seven. We can talk more 'bout the offer later." With that, Nick helped Javin get his bags out, and then piloted the car onto the street, where the deep roar of the big block V8 was heard pulling the car onto the highway.

Javin looked back at the man who'd bounced off the hood as they flew past him, "Never a dull moment around here, is there," he asked with a grin.

He sat back and listened to Nick's offer. "How can I say 'no' to something like that? I'll have to run it past the government, but I think they'll go for it. The military brass is getting uppity again, so they'd like to have some intel operatives who know what they're doing and not be connected to the brass." In fact Javin had the 11 others already picked out before they reached the hotel.

"Thanks for the help with the bags," he said before Nick took off, "See you in a few hours."

Javin picked up the bags and walked into the hotel.

(freakin' server!)

Bradfield lead the Iansisleanian delegates to the cars, and watched as they all boarded one of the rides. Bradfield slid into the center one, along with Inswick. "Yes I agree. Our government was equally excited when we heard rumors that yours was looking into reopening relations."

The car started to move, and was soon on the highway, a meer hour from the party.

There is a difference between egalitarianism and blatant disrespect, Inswick forced himself to remember. The utter lack of 'my lords' and 'your lordships' in Bradfield's conversation was disconcerting, especially from a mere commoner who would have been thrown out of any respectable Iansislean party. However, things were done differently in places like Imitora, and insisting on the deference due him would endanger the younger Inswick's career, his father's ministerial job, and the entire Conservative position in Parliament. Fortunately, an upbringing in the double-faced and conspiratorial world of Ianapalis high society more than prepared Inswick to hide his contempt from Bradfield.

"Indeed. I cannot express how saddened I was by that Ga - Mister Dhawan's decision to expel your noble state from the New Highlands." Inswick cursed hiself under his breath. By now, he ought to be able to control his temper, even when discussing Hiresh Dhawan and his Centrists. No matter; the correction had taken only a brief second, and the sentence ended quite naturally.

"Naturally, my father and Prime Minister Tarriff have been working to reverse that tragic mistake, but there are certain parties only too happy to throw roadblocks in our way. Perhaps this gathering will do much to convince those obstructionists that their view of Imitora is not only false, but vastly outdated and downright silly."

The 454 pulled up at exactly 7:00pm, Nick dressed in a smart looking tux, designed to not onlylook very tastefull, but also conceal his USP .40 worn under his shoulder. It was a black jacket on a black vest and black shirt, with a silver tie.

He waited for Javin, lettign the car idle. He watched as the Larkinian approached, and unlocked the car door for him. "Our dates are waiting for us there, what do you prefere, blonde or brunette?"
_____

Bradsfieled nodded. "It is the hope of the current administration that we can push through those roadblocks, and bring our nations back together in a strong alliance that we once shared."

What he didn't add is that the current administartion was also more than willing to assist the Conservatives in powerin Iansisle, through allmeans nessacery, save violence, of course.

OOC: I'll assume they used extra-strength anti-perspirent and held out a wad of cash as a cab approached. No matter how rude a cabby is, you stop for a wad of cash. :P

IC: The men moved about slowly. As they did so it was hard to tell if they were all represenitives or if only one was. They all acted just about the same. But to anyone who had seen him, Agent 283, Minister of Intelligence, would be spotted immediatly as the represenitive.

The 454 pulled up at exactly 7:00pm, Nick dressed in a smart looking tux, designed to not onlylook very tastefull, but also conceal his USP .40 worn under his shoulder. It was a black jacket on a black vest and black shirt, with a silver tie.

He waited for Javin, lettign the car idle. He watched as the Larkinian approached, and unlocked the car door for him. "Our dates are waiting for us there, what do you prefere, blonde or brunette?"
_____

Bradsfieled nodded. "It is the hope of the current administration that we can push through those roadblocks, and bring our nations back together in a strong alliance that we once shared."

What he didn't add is that the current administartion was also more than willing to assist the Conservatives in power in Iansisle, through allmeans nessacery, save violence, of course.

(but that hints at the possiblity of there being a non-conservative administration in Imitora, and that'd go over there like a pregnant pole vaulter, dude ;) )

"Blonde of course," Javin grinned as he adjusted his tie in the mirror (opting for the regular Eurotie instead of the bow tie ;) ) "So is there anything I should know about this little soiree?"

"Good, cuz I only got two, and they're both blonde," he said, laughing. He turned on ot the highway, it was just a five minue ride, and Nick continued. "Standard meet and greet. Have fun, eat food, get drunk," he said, laughing again.

Not daring to enter the grand ballroom Sir Archibold's secretary and security man sulked around the coatcheck. The wrinkled khakis and polo shirt on the security man and the blue jeans and tanktop on the secretary made them look more like lost tourists than members of an ambassadors entourage.

Johnny Kay, the security man, was a six foot three, three-hundred forty pound tank of a man. Being unsure of the local customs about wearing a gun to events like this he decided to be on the safe side and go with a Walther P990 strapped to his ankle. In case he needed to open a letter he also decided that a fifteen inch kukri knife concealed down the back of his shirt and a few razor blades hidden in various cuffs and seams might be prudent. Johnny Kay was rather forlorn that he probably wouldn't get in any fights here so he decided to go for a walk and hope that someone either very stupid or with very poor eyesight would try to mug him.

Bernice Ashley, the secretary, was in a very good mood as this was the first time she had actually had an opportunity to leave Maltese-Indochina. She was revelling in all of the foreigness of it all. She desperately wished that she could go into the ballroom and craned her neck to look through the door each time someone went in or out. Being a proud member of that rare breed of people who are in fact too decisive she resolved to get into that room... but how.

The black 454 pulled up, and Nick and Javin departed the vehicle. Nick tossed his keys to a valet, and entered the building. Neither of the girls he had asked to show up were there, probably inside. He pushed past the reps from Maltese-Indochina, and looked at Archibold. "Hey man, not going in? Its a free party?"

He continued into the ball, and looked around, more specifically for members of the fairer sex, even if the blondes werent there.

OOC: Reads Kay's description...packing light I see. Might have trouble gettin past security (Nick's a shooter, so he has the ins), but he wont stand out much. After all, fire arms are free and easy to get in Imitora, and its not odd to hear about a mugger getting a blast from a micro-Uzi...

Javin smiled at the guards as he walked in with Nick, he slowed down long enough to see Ms. Ashley deciding to go in.

"Hold up a sec, Nick. I see someone who might need escorting in to the festivities," Javin said as the pair walked over, "Can we escort you to the ball, Cinderella?" he asked with one of his charming smiles.

Nick turned, and eyed Ashley. "Of course, how could I simply pass this angel by." It was said taht you could take the kid outa the Spanish part of Imitora, but not the Spanish out of the kid.

He approached in a rather slick move, and took one side of her (OOC: Then he and Javin proceded to bouce her back and forth to the song "What is love"), while Javin took the other. He took her arm in his, and spoke softly. "If you follow me and my good friend her, I'm sure we can find an appropriate seat for someone so lovely."

Ashley blushed profusely then arrived at a quick descision, "Why the hell not?" She took both of them by the arm and practically dragged them into the ball room. She desperately struggled not to giggle like a school girl when she saw the look on Sir Archibold's face when he saw her burst in dressed like a tourist with a dashing foreign dignitary on each arm.

Nick smiled. "Thats the spirit. I'm Nick Chavez, and this is my good friend, Speial Envoy Javin Katana from Larkinia. May I, have the honor of your name?"

"Oh! I'm Bernice Ashley, personal secretary to Sir Archibold Chung. Nice to meet both of you," she smiled brightly. Sir Archibold was across the room chugging champagne and praying that his secretary didn't cause an international incident. "That's Sir Archibold over there," she waved to him. Seeing this as an opportunity to insert himself into the situation before Bernice casued an nuclear war Archibold practically joggged over.

"I am Sir Archibold Chung, representative of Maltese-Indochina. It is both an honor and a privilege to meet you," he bowed.

Bradsfieled nodded. "It is the hope of the current administration that we can push through those roadblocks, and bring our nations back together in a strong alliance that we once shared.".

"Hmm," agreed Inswick. He didn't want to be rude, but the conversation was stagnating. He sat back and wondered how much longer the ride would last.

Javin smiled at Bernice and kissed her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled. Javin's smile turned into a grin when Sir Archibold nearly ran over. He'd seen that run many times before, usually when someone was trying to keep him from starting an international incident.

"It's an honor to meet you as well, Sir Archibold," he said with a bow.

Nick extended his hand to shake Archibold's. "Nick Chavez, Imitora Colonial Marine Corp, retired," he said, introducing himself. He pointed over to Griffin, who was greeting incomming guests, flirting with the unattached women (and some of the attached ones as well), and generaly doing the whole meet and greet.

"Thats the guy your looking for right over there, First Speaker John Griffin," he said.

The cars driving McPherson and the Lieutenant pulled up to the party, and the two got out. The Secretary of State wore a fairly conservative dark gray suit with dark red tie. Garther wore the dress uniform for his rank, the light blue gray shirt with dark blue pants. He had his rank insignia on his collar, and the dark blue beret of the Navy.

They entered the room without word or any show.

While Nick flirted with Ashely, Griffin approached McPherson and Garther. "Mr. McPherson, Lieutenant, good to see you here. First Speaker John Griffin. I hope your trip was safe and uneventfull?"
_______

The limmos carying the Iansisleanians pulled into the hotel parking lot, and the small entourage got out of the cars. "I'll be back in about two hours to pick you up for the party. If you have any problems, call me," he siad, handing his cell number to Inswick."

When they were unlaoded, the limmos proceded out onto the streets, and disapeared into traffic.

Left in a hotel parking lot, thought Inswick, narrowing his eyes. How delightfully nice of him! With a sigh and a thought of better times, he waved at his staff to handle the bags and walked into the lobby.

I wonder if the staff has been warned that we're coming or if this was meant to be a 'surprise! foreign dignitaries!' sort of thing.

As Inswick and his group entered the hotel, only one person seemed even remotly intrested. He appraoched Inswick, bowed slightly and offerd a smile. "Lord Inswick? I'm Andrew Earl. Owner of the Water Lily Hotel. It is my great honor that you will be styaing with us for your stay in Imitora."

When he finished, he snapped, and a small army of hotel employees went to work. They took the bags from the staff, and placed them on carts. They were offered drinks, just about any they could desire, as well as snacks.

Andrew lead Inswick and his party to a private, elegant set of back elevators. "We've resereved an entire wing for you and your staff, 19th floor, all suites." The members of the staff were all lead to their respective rooms, but Earl lead Inswick to his personally.

Using a swipe card, he opened the door to the large suite, and procedded to show Inswick around. "This is our Imprial Suite. The finest room in the hotel. In here, we have a greeting room, three seperate bedrooms, each with their own bath, and a living room." The room was elegantly furnished, and sitting on the table of the greeting room was a decently sized gift basket, with fresh fruits and a selection of Imitora's finest wines, and a bottle of champagne.

Earl handed Inswick a business card. "This is my personal number, if you have any problems, any, at all, feel free to call me. The numbers of room service, the hotel tailor, matienence, and the like, are all in the book by your bed, and all are complementry, of course. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Mr Earl," nodded Inswick. "How nice to meet you. I'm sure my pleasure here will be quite pleasurable."

At last, he thought, a commoner who knows his place.

He followed Earl about, nodding airily. "Thank you, Mr Earl," he said at last. "I have just one question: when is the main reception due to start?"

John had been introducing himself for a while, when an aide tapped him on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. He moved to teh front of the room, and spoke into a microphone. "Ladies and gents, diplomats from around the world. I promised you dancing, and now I come through on my promise. The band," he said stepping aside.

A band stood at the front of the room, looking less than what everyone expected the band should look like. The leader of the band stepped up, and first, looked aorund the room, and smiled. "A PINT FOR EVERYONE!" he shouted into teh mic, and soon everyone had, in their hands or in front of them, a pint of the darkest Guiness they could find.

The lead singer then stepped back, and let the flute and drums kick up, and then stepped up to the mic, and began to sing...As I began to speak, she stood right over me, the color of her eyes the color of insanity, like a ship crushed by a wave I could not reach teh shore, swing a little more to the devil's dance floor! (OOC: :twisted: )

Griffin stepped back to Brookes, and smiled. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, noticing the already close to half empty pint.
_______

Nick looked around, and noticed a rather lonely looking brunette standing by herself in the corner, and nodded to Javin and Ashely. "If you will excuse me, I must attend to a walflower," and he left, leaving Javin with Ashley.
______

"About two hours, Lord Inswick," Earl said, before bowing out.

Brooks tried to smile and not stumble, blushing almost as red as her dress. "My dear Mister Griffin, sir, are you trying to get me drunk with this?" Brooks giggled slightly and sipped at the Guiness. "And I'd love to dance, just show me where I can dance the Funky Chicken or something or something."

"About two hours, Lord Inswick," Earl said, before bowing out.

"Two hours; wonderful," muttered Inswick as the innkeeper bowed out of the room. He sat down on a nearby chair - which was surprisingly comfortable - and reclined back into it. "Two more hours."

He started to wish he hadn't discarded the thin file on Imitora. It would have come in quite handy right about now; at least he could have pretended to be doing something.

Inswick considered going to ask one questions of the one man on his staff who had been to Imitora before, but he'd rather not show weakness before someone like that. It wouldn't become his position at all. After about fifteen minutes, he fiddled with the moving-picture box, but got nothing save a burst of static.

One long hour and forty five minutes later - most of which was spent trying to pronounce the weirder names he could find in the complementary phone book - he was more than ready for the most boring of diplomatic receptions.

Noone heard the Black AH-6Is light attack helicopters buzzing the hotel due to the silent run systems, nor did they pay attention to the suit clad armed men throughout the hotel, looking for any threats. The Toyota and BMW SUVs also went unnoticed.

The group of limmos, al black, waited infront of the hotel for the Iansilanian delegates to show up, all under heavy gaurd.

OOC: Hehe...hope Inswick likes Irish punk...

((I'm sure he doesn't :P))

Inswick alone descended the stairs - he wasn't sure how to use an operator-less elevator - into the lobby. He straightened out his suit at the bottom, trying to make sure he looked the spitting image of a clean young aristocrat, and walked out to meet his transportation. The other members of the mission, whose job was variously to keep in touch with Lord Inswick's father, to serve him, to translate into some of the tongues that might be encountered, to write speeches, to run errands, and that sort of thing, weren't really needed at simple reception. Surely, the head of the mission could darn well handle on his own.

It took a split second for him to recognize which car - or group of cars - was intended for him and step into it.

The four agents still wander around. One steps up to the band. "Psst... you guys know 'Freebird'?"

283 walked around, wondering when he would be asked who he was protecting, or just to leave.

The song came to an end, and the lead looked at the Crimond. "Free Bird? Aye?"

283 was, proably to his suprise, ignored. The amount of body gaurds in teh area was high enough so that they were nothign special. And no one was gonna ask him to leave. There was no reason to.

The band started up again after the request for the song, this time the song was fast, but not as fast. Nothgin was really faster than The Devils Dance Floor.

The Iansisleanian group, after a short ride, entered the ball room as the group started up again, this time leading with a guitar before the flute and drums. "Now I'm aimin for Heaven, but probably wind up in hell...