NationStates Jolt Archive

Sitting in his office, The Prime Minister FolcoBoffin puts the finishing touches to his letter. After looking over it on last time, he signs and put his seal on the missive. It reads:

"The Honored Prime Minister of East Canuck sends an invitation to representatives of all the Vampire Forumites nations to this newly constructed Elysium where, together, we can all discuss the policies and problems of the land. Everyone is welcome, as long as they follow our traditions and the rules of Elysium.

FolcoBoffin
Prime Minister of the Commonwealth of East Canuck"

*Send for messengers* he shouts. In 2 minutes, a dozen of messengers are given copies of the document to given to the head of states of the other nation in the Vampire Forumites region. When the messengers have all left, FolcoBoffin grins and mutter "The Jyhad has kicked into high gear".

OOC: This thread is for all the forumites so we can discuss, share and goof off. It can be used for alliance, back-stabbing, small talk and OOC banter. Welcome one and all.

In a hall of silver and gold His Royal Highness King Wight of the Constitutional Monarchy of Lambrinis sits on his sparkling throne with black crushed velvet robe thrown over his shoulders covering his electric blue silken vest-top, short blue PVC skirt and black and blue stripped tights.

In one hand his shiny-varnished nails hold a glass goblet filled with fizzy-sweet white wine and in the other he holds a latter delivered from the commonwealth of East Conuck.

Blinking shadowed eyes a couple of time he exclaims:

‘Fabulous! Attendants, organise transport at once!’

And at once carriages are being arranged to escort his royal highness to a luxury private jet to transport him to the newly constructed Elysium.

Ambassador Pippin is looking at the overlay of the Elysium when his cell phone rings.
"Pippin" he answers "Yeah, it's ready. We can start recieving diplomats right now."
"That's good, because King Wight himself is coming" a voice tells him over the phone.
"Well, I'll better make sure the staff is ready then. If you'll excuse me...
yes, I will make my full report to the prime minister when he comes in for the opening ceremony. Now I really have to go, I hear King Wight's plane landing"

Then pippin rushes to greet King Wight and his dignitaries.

"Your Excellency," Archbishop F.B. Fax calls out as he quickly walks into the Imperial throne room, a letter clutched in his left hand.

The God-King sits at the far end of the room, reclining over one arm rest, obviously bored with the two feuding landowners bickering away in front of him. At the sound of the Chancellor's voice, he looks up and stifles a yawn. He waves at the guards nearby, and they escort the two men away.

"Yes, old friend? What is it that has gotten you so excited?"

The Archbishop holds up the piece of paper.

"Paper? We've had that here for quite some time," the God-King teases.

"Sire, I have received a message from the Prime Minister of the Commonwealth of East Canuck."

"East Canuck, eh? They're the ones who have endorsed us in the United Nations, yes?"

"That's correct. They have constructed an Elysium for our region."

"Elysium, you say? Excellent idea. Any chance I could take credit for it?"

"Uh, no Sire, I'm afraid not."

"Ah well. Still a good idea. Let the Prime Minister know that I shall attend this Elysium. Gas up the jet!"

"Are you sure you should attend? We could send an Ambassador? We have not heard back from Sarumania as of yet, so we have one sitting around. He's incompetent, but should be more than a match for whoever Mithras or The SOI-bot send."

"While that may be true, I want to attend myself. I haven't left the Palace in days. And while the harem is certainly entertaining, I need to practice my politics. You won't be around forever."

"Very well, I shall make the arrangements."

The Archbishop turns and leaves the throne room. The God-King gets off his throne and heads for a different door, absent-mindedly humming a little tune off the recently released CD by the Empress Tzu Yun.

As the bickering landowner are led out of the throne room of Asmadonia, one picks up a cell-phone and sends a text message. It reads: as-1.

In a dark room under the parliament of East Canuck the computer beep *You've got mail*. One highly trained spy looks up, reads the message and quickly calls back back the landowner.

L: hello
S: Did I read you correctly?
L: Yes. The moon is rising. He's not hiding behind the stars.
S: Cut the crap, this is a secure line.
L: Well then, the King himself is goin. Also, you might want to pick the CD from Tzu Yun.
S: Why would I want to do that?
L: Well, apparently, the king has one of the song on it that he can't get out of of his mind. He's been humming it all day.
S: Ok thanks. Same fee as usual?
L: Weel you know, I've had problems with the garden this year. Crop are not as good as predicted.
S: Fine, double standard commision.
L: Works for me.
S: Bye.

The spy then proceed to let the information known.

In his luxurious study, the Prime Minister FolcoBoffin is sitting casually reading the papers when a knock on the door make him take his eyes off the paper. "Enter", he shouts.

An aide bring him a folded piece of paper. FolcoBoffin reads it and says

FB: "Prepare the jet, I'm leaving for Elysium in two hours. Also, have my most elegant habits ready."
a: "Prime Minister, is this wise? Shouldn'T you only make an appearance at the opening ceremony?"
FB: "Well, normally I would but it seems that the other head of states will be attending and not send little known diplomats as expected."
a: "Ah"
FB: "Yes, so got get every thing ready and call Pippin to make sure he has the latest CD from Empress what's her name.:
a: "Empress what's her name sir?"
FB: "You know fully well whom I'm refering to. Anyway, call Pippin, he'll know what I'm talking about. Well, don't just stand there... go to work."

The aide then start running on his various errands while Prime Minister FolcoBoffin mutters
" This is turning bigger than I though."

In a throne room of amethyst and jade, a hairy little midget clears this throat.

"An invitation, to Elysium. Spies indicate your fellow rulers have received the invitations as well."

The darkness stirred before him. A whispering voice reached Messenger Baile's ears.

"Of course. The First Royal Battalion is as always ready to move on a moment's notice. You will be well protected. Elysium will benefit from your presence."

The darkness was pleased.

the Minister made his report to the ArchDuke vampire hunter D

Your Excellency, reports indicate that hte other leaders of this region have already accepted the invitation. However, our intelligence also shows that Porovia has mobilized a battalion to the Elysium. May I recomend, sir, that you send the Ducal Guard's 1st Infantry Regiment along when you go to the Elysium?


The ArchDuke agreed to this recomendation.

Pacing through the throne room the large figure obviously was not in his element. His appearance betrayed the man as being a warrior insteads of a courtier..

Suddenly the doors opened and a servant entered. "my Liege, a message" he said and bowed deep.

"Stop the groveling, what is it?" "an invitation to Elysium Sir" The large man looked to the servant expectingly, after a few seconds waiting he calmly asked "Well, are you going to get the carriage ready or do I Have to do it myself?" "No Sir, it will be done immediatly. My apologies."

The servant ran off. "good, at least something to do, Elysia can be ....fun"

The android knocked at the door in front of him. He heard a response, but it wasn't loud enough to make out exactly what was said. He pushed the door open and walked into the room.

"I said 'Go Away!'" the lone figure in the small room said.

It was facing away from the door, hunched over a wooden table that occupied much of the room.

"Your Dread Excellency, forgive my intrusion. I have received a communication from the Commonwealth of East Canuck. They have set up an Elysium for the region and have invited us to take part."

"Ok, so?" the figure responded curtly. He refused to turn around to face his visitor.

"Dread Excellency? Are you well? What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Go away."

"Are you ... Are you playing with your toys again?"

The Dread Excellency spun around quickly, no emotion visible on his metallic features. "They are not toys. They are action figures! How many times must I tell you that?"

"Of course, Dread Excellency. Forgive me. But, perhaps, you could pause a moment and decide about this Elysium function?"

A sigh escaped from the Dread Excellency, "Very well. Now, do we know who is attending?"

"Our sources in the various nations have reported that the Prime Minister of East Canuck has decided to attend after learning that King Wight, Emperor Poor, King Asmadi, and Archduke vhD will all attend. The others have not made their intentions known."

"So that war-mongerer, Druthulhu has not committed to attend?"

"No, Dread Excellency."

"Well, until he does, I will not be going. He would probably seize that time to invade our nation."

"Of course, Dread Excellency. I will keep you updated. Good evening, Dread Excellency."

"Good Evening, Ambassador FFS-42205," the Dread Excellency said as the Ambassador left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Gregor had just finished singing, off-key I might add, and was left wondering if SOI would take his soul. Blackmane was fretting over what martyrswounds was doing with Horatio. Yes, that's where we were..."

In a dark and airless Chamber, a large imposing Figure of a man sits on his throne. A crown of spikes adore his head and a long billowing cloak is draped over the throne.

"Speak now and quickly Maggot" Mithras commands.

"err...Folco Boffin, the Prime Minister of East Canuck have offered us a place in the Elysium"

"Hmmm, a chance to socialise and gain intelligence on my enemys and allies. Tell them that we agree to this, now move you worm!"

"Certainly master!"

Meanwhile the Prime Minister FolcoBoffin is being briefed aboard his private jet.

"So it seems that most of the head of states will be there."

"Good" said FolcoBoffin " I'm about to gain a good bit of reputation with this endeavour. If I play my cards right, I should secure the the title of
UN Delegate... Hang on, you said most of the prime ministers?"

"Head of states, sir, but yes, most."

"Most as in not all of them?"

"Well, it seems the Nation of Druthulhu didn't bother to respond. Also, the Dread Excellency of SOI-bot said that it would not attend unless Druthulhu attends too."

"Well, I can understan about dru, they're always trying to invade. SOI-bot must have been playing with his GI-joes again. He never moves when it's in it's GI-joe phase. Oh well, the dru-something will be missed."

"Sir, might I suggest to send messages to Druthulhu that we'll be discussing where to invade? He's sure to come then."

"Hang on, I've got a better idea: send messages to Druthulhu that we'll be discussing where to invade and make sure to mention that the invading army will be on standby already. That way, if we decide to go to war, the better tctical units of our neighbouring nation will be commited already."

An evil grin then spread to FolcoBoffin's face. It grew even wider when he heard that the Royal 22nd and 23rd regiment were in place.

Aboard his private jet, God-King Gregor Asmadi the First sits in his large, leather seat. His left hand drums steadily on the tray table before him, while he pops salty peanuts into his mouth with his right. He turns to look at his Chancellor, seated across the aisle, his head buried in paperwork.

"How much longer?" the God-King asked, his mouth somewhat full.

Archbishop Fax looks up, "A few more hours before we reach the Elysium."

"I'm bored."

"You do have a portable DVD player in your armrest."

"I know. So, what are you doing?"

"Just going over some intellegence reports."

"Ooh, that sounds exciting."

"It sure does, to someone who's never actually read one," the Archbishop said with a teasing smile.

"So, what's going on in the region?"

The Archbishop sighs and begins flipping through the papers spread out before him. Finding one, he pulls it out and quickly scans it. "It appears that the Commonwealth of East Canuck has mobilized two regiments, for what reason we have yet to ascertain. Apparently, Mithras himself has decided to leave his Mommy's basement and join us at the Elysium. Several nations have yet to respond, though it appears the SOI-bot is not going to attend. The nations of Druthulhu and The SOI-bot are holding supposedly secret trade negotiations, the details of which we are still trying to discover. Archduke vhD is bringing along a military regiment to the meeting, as is Emperor Poor."

"Is there a threat? Would someone dare to violate Elysium?" the God-King asked.

"Not that we've been alerted to. There are some loose cannons among the nations of our region, so it is not impossible."

"So, why are we not bringing along a military unit? Is my safety unimportant?"

"Of course it is. We want to show the others that we have no fear of them. Besides, why would we want to alert the others by mobilizing our own military, when we can use a clandestine unit loaned to us from one of our allies from outside the region?" The Archbishop replied, a sly grin on his wizened visage.

"One of these days I hope your cunning rubs off on me." The God-King says as he rolls away to gaze out the window and take a nap.

"As do I," the Archbishop whispers beneath his breath, "as do I."

The messenger looked around the interior of the tent he had just entered. In an instant all activity inside came to a dead stop, as all eyes turned to the new arrival. Slowly the messenger crossed the room to the only occupant to be seated in a chair, and handed him a piece of paper.

Gamer18, Chief of the nomadic peoples of the Imbued read the message. A gathering of the heads of state. He looked back to the messenger, who seemed to be waiting for a response. "We will attend. Go and tell your master." All eyes remained on the messenger until he had exited the tent.

Chief Gamer18 waited until the guards notified him that the messenger had indeed left before he spoke. "I will be leaving to attend a gathering of the heads of state in the region." Numerous conversations broke out across the tent at the announcement. "I will not be convinced otherwise." A number of the conversations died down. "Teacher143, I wish you to go with me as my aid and bodyguard for the procedings." A man sitting on the floor to his right nodded. "Detective25, I am leaving you in charge." Gamer18 sighed. "They know where we are. Break camp and relocate while I am gone. Teacher 143 and I will find you once we leave the gathering."

With that final announcemnt, Chief Gamer18 stood up and left his tent, Teacher 143 falling in step behind him as he left.

On the grounds of the airport two figures are standing, waiting. Suddenly, a phone rings. The two figures take out each a phone and say "Hello?"
Then Ambassador Pippin continues his convesation while the security guard look at his phone, confused.

"You found it? Good!... He'll come? Good! ... You couldn't plant the listening device? Bad. Ok, come back and report to me."

Pippin then hang up and turn to the guard.

"Chief Gamer18 of the nomadic peoples of the Imbued will be coming after all. Tell the Prime Minister."

The Guard gave Pippin a blank look. Pippin grabbed violently to guard's cell phone and punched the 'Talk' button. The guard started to draw his night stick when Pippin yanked the stick out of his hands.

It's at that exact moment that the private plane of Prime Minister FolcoBoffin began his landing drowning the voice of Pippin.

When the Prime Minister and his entourage met with Pippin, The ambassador quickly told him the latest news.

FB "Good. Their presence will be a sign that we care for every nations. Excellent. Now, Pippin you take the plane and go back to the capital."
P "Go back? But why?"
FB "Well, you remember the palantir incident?"
P "Look I explained that. It was a mis..."
FB " Yes, yes yes, I know but it seems that Asmadonia had secret dealings with Sarumania and you see where it get embarassing if you were there."
P "I see. But what if I stay away from the God-King?"
FB "Fool of a Took! I don't want any political incident involving our nation. Now go, hop on the plane."
P "But..."
FB "On the plane now!"

Pippin then went inside the plane while the Prime Minister went toward the Elysium.

Having dedicated Lambrinis' small national guard to defence, and having been delated by the distraction of many beautiful and shiny things on the journet HRH King Wight finally arrives in East conuck with only a small lightly armed personal entourage.

Stepping out of the Jet with his royally decorated and lavishly, possibly unpratically, dressed but firmly trained and dedicated personal entourage, HRH King Wight starts to admire the sceneary.

Messenger Bailey stood in the shadow of a throne.

"They have not all arrived yet."

Whispers.

Ï know. They are certainly taking their time. The Porovian Rickshaw service must be superior to their own transportation services."

Whispers.

"Very well. A bodyguard will be assigned from the First Royal Battalion to each of the other heads of state. I am sure they will appreciate the gesture of our protection."

Whispers.

"Yes. All your tapes of 3rd Rock From The Sun have been delivered. You may watch them at your leisure."

Whispers. Happy ones.

The Hierophant boards his private jet and relaxes into his seat. Mithras had sent him in his place to attend the meeting of the elders of almost all the nations in the region.

A telephone next to his seat rings:

"yes, this is Hierophant Jahred"
"this is General Cret, we have begun massing our armies on the Druthulhu border"
"Who gave this order?"
"Emperor Mithras believes that their non-attendence is a personal snub against the community he has founded and have taken measures against them."
"What will happen?"
"If the country does not respond in 48 hours then our forces will invade"
"Then this meeting will decide the future of our region!"

Then he puts the phone down, the next 48 hours are vital.

In a small antechamber inside the Elysium, Prime Minister FolcoBoffin is recieving last minute instruction by a member of his staff.

Staff: "And, under no circumstance, mention his hat. Got it?"
FolcoBoffin: "Yeah, yeah, not mentionning Whisky's hat."
S: "It's ambassador Bailey, sir."
FB: "Bailey, got it."
S: "Also, there two small problems that have arisen in the last hour."
FB: "What kind of small problems?"
S: "Big ones, sir."
FB: "Big ones?"
S: "well, one of them is huge."
FB: "Start with the smaller one."

S: "It seems the Vampire Mithras will not be attending. He's sending his Hierophant Jahred instead."
FB: "WHAT! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! Make sure that the entire Mithras delegation is searched thoroughly when they arrive while someone is explaining to them how they slighted us."
S: "This might not be wise sir. Mithras is one of our strongest ally and, should he stops backing us, we won't stay UN delegate."
FB: "Well search them thoroughly only then. What's the other problem?"

S: "Our spy network reports that the Mithras nation is threathening to go to war with the Druthulhu empire if they don't send delegates here."
FB: "It never goes smooth. How come it never goes smooth?"
S: "Sir?"
FB: "Nothing, I was just quoting Firefly. Prepare to back Druthulhu agaisnt Mithras. The nation of East Canuck might not like the war-mongering Druthulhu but I'll be damned if I back Mithras after what he did tonight."
S: "Might I remind the Prime Minister of the UN Delegate? also, it would not look good as Mithras insist on attendance to our own Elysium."
FB: "Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Well prepare to back Mithras for his courageous backing of our brilliant initiative."
S: "Yes sir. Right away sir."

On these words, the Prime Minister FolcoBoffin makes his entrance into Elysium and start greeting his guest. When he arrives at the delegation of Porovia, he mentions casually to Ambassador Bailey:

"Nice Hat!"

"Sir? May I ask you a question?" Teacher 143 broke the silence that he and Gamer18 had been riding in.

Gamer18 looked at his companion for a moment before responding. "I believe you just did Josh. What's on your mind?"

"I don't mean to question your judgement, but do you think this is wise? Traveling to a gathering of our enemies?"

"No. Probably not."

"Then why are we going?"

Gamer18 thought briefly. "Why are our people nomadic?"

Teacher143 responded quickly. "To make it harder for our enemies to find us."

"And yet, a messenger from one of them did manage to find us. And instead of delivering bloody vengeance upon our people, he brought an invite to a peaceful gathering."

"So you are curious as to why we were invited?"

"That and how they managed to track us down."

"Then you think it would be safe for us at this gathering?"

"Oh, absolutely not."

"Then why bring only myself? Why not bring more protection?"

Gamer18 smiled briefly. "Because the amount of people I would want to bring in order to feel safe where we are going might be considered an act of war. Now come, we still have a long journey ahead of us."

The conversation over for now, the two companions continued on their way to the gathering.

"Lord Emperor, he mentioned my hat! You know how sensitive I am about my hat! It was a gift from Lord Fred of Yelk after a night of drinking and deep philosophical discussion and I'll be damned if"-"

Whispers. The creak of wood against jade.

"Well, yes, my feelings are assuaged by your funny little dance. No, Lord Emperor, I guess I can find it in my midget heart to forgive him."

Whispers.

"Very well. I leave you to your TV viewing. I hear tonight's Daily Show is particularly excellent."

Messenger Bailey hobbled from the room. There would be retribution.


<<OOC: Now I'm just going to wait for the rest of you boys and girls to show up IC.>>

The doors to the chamber open and the Hierophant marches in flanked by two members of his honour guard. His red cloak billows and twirls around his small body as he strides up to Prime Minister FolcoBoffin.

He then bows to the Prime Minister:

"My Most Holy Emperor would like to apolgise for not attending this gathering. He is worried about a case of terminal sun-burn and also the fact that he has to be prepare for war".

The Hierophant Looks at the Prime Minister.

"May I speak to you in private?"

The Prime Minister agress and both the men walk into a secluded corner:

"I gather that we will be recieving your support in the up-coming war? Emperor Mithras wishes it to be known that his vote has alot of wieght and it would be a shame to ruin our relationship over such a trival matter"

Then he leaves the Prime Minister in the corner and walks over to Messenger Bailey.

"Nice hat!"

The God-King steps off his private plane and begins walking to the car waiting to take him to the Elysium. He makes it halfway before realizing that the Archbishop is not beside him. He turns and returns to the plane.

"Ah, old friend, we're here. Aren't you coming?"

"No, Sire, this is for you to handle. I shall remain here. I have plenty of work to do. Have fun, and try not to give away the entire country."

"Gorramit! Get your geriatric ass out of this plane."

"No."

"But, I'm the God-King, you have to do as I say!"

The Archbishop looks at him with an amused expression.

"Fine, but I'm going to be all alone there."

"No you won't. I've already verified that our allies in BurntSienna have guards for you in position. And if things go badly, the Dictatorship of Shan Yu has a squad of Reavers waiting for my signal."

"Reavers? You didn't say anything about Reavers being nearby."

"It'll be okay. Just go have fun."

"Fine."

The God-King exited the plane and got in the car. A short while later, he arrived at the Elysium. He made his greeting to the Prime Minister of East Canuck, and then began to circulate through the room. Something catches his eye and he walks towards it.

"Ooh, look at the pretty. Oh, hello Messenger Bailey, nice hat."

A few minutes later, he crosses paths with the Hierophant.

"Ah, Hierophant, it is good to see you again as always. So, where's Monty? I'm sorry, I mean Mithras?"

*steps out of the darkness and walks to the doorway, silently handing a letter that he has received to the ghoul at the door*

After speaking with t he Hierophant, Prime Minister FolcoBoffin pushes a lever and steps into a secret door. After three flight of stairs he comes before a heavilly guarded door. The door opens and FolcoBoffin enters a room with 20 or so monitors, all watching different parts of the elysium. There is also some tape recorder in a corner. Two spies stands at attention.

FolcoBoffin: "At ease, gentlemen."

The two spies go back to watching the screens.

FB: "What have we learned?"
Spy 1: "It seems that your not the only one that mentionned Messenger Bailey's hat. He is now fuming in the bathroom."
FB: "Darn, I forgot about the hat. But you got to admit it is a nice hat."
S2: "Very Nice."
S1: "I wish I had a hat like that"
S2: "You know my cousin Estelle has a hat that looks like that"
S1: "Really?..."
FB: "Anything else or are we just going to talk about the hat?"

S1: "Porovia has instructed a guard to be with each ambassador. Surely spies."
FB: "Yeah, but we knew that, Right?"
S1: "Right. also, we caught a Lambrini agent hiding small cameras."
FB: "How did we catch him?"
S1: "Well he hid a camera right besides ours under the Picasso painting. It's a miracle he didn't found ours."
FB: "Good. As discussed, leave it here. The cleaning crew will get them out tomorrow. We don't want the other nations to know the extent of our operation."
S2: "Sir, the Emperor Druthulhu is at the door."
FB: "Good, he came. Maybe Jar-head will leave me alone now... Speaking of the Hierophant, I want our waiter to slip him a note."

S1: "What should it say?"
FB: "I leave the wording to you but it must say that East Canuck is always pleased to help Mithras in his endeavours as tighly allied nation do but want to remind him that without my support his war would be much more costly and if I happened to find new friends he may very well loose.
East Canuck is a nation that likes to be consulted before jumping to the help of his neighbour."
S2: "Very well, sir. It will be done."
FB: "Good I must get back. Druthulhu is about to enter and I want to be there to cool tempers."

And with that Prime Minister FolcoBoffin goes up two levels use another concealed door and make his way up to the main reception area.

sorry, double post.

*enters quietly, nodding politely at all who meet his gaze, and surveys the room*

Ambassador FFS-42205 walks into the private chamber of the Dread Excellency The SOI-bot. He looks around the lavishly decorated room, but can not find his lord.

"Dread Excellency?"

"One moment," the reply came from behind the door to the recharging vestibule.

Five minutes later, the SOI-bot, Dread Excellency of the Rogue Nation that bears its name, walks out into the room.

"One moment?"

"Did you really come here to have a discussion about marking time?"

"No, of course not, Dread Excellency. Forgive me."

"Well?"

"Our spies have informed us that Druthulhu has shown up at the Elysium in East Canuck. Also, the Empire of the vampire Mithras have mobilised forces to their border with the Empire of Druthulhu. They may be planning to invade. Their stated purpose was to force the emperor to attend the gathering."

"Well, it looks like that old fool Mithras managed to succeed."

"Yes, and now I am worried that they may do the same to us. After all, you stated that you would not attend unless Druthulhu did. He has, and you are still here."

"I know where I am, thank you."

"Of course. I think you should leave for East Canuck immediately. We do not want to give Mithras an excuse to invade us."

"No, I guess not. Very well. Prepare my zeppelin."

"Dread Excellency?"

"What now?"

"Zeppelin? Would you not want to take something that would get you there before the Elysium is over?"

"Oh very well. We will take a jet. I bet everyone else took a jet. At least with a zeppelin, I would stand out."

"Actually, Messenger Bailey of Porovia apparently took a rickshaw there."

"Oh, so the 'exotic mode of transport' has already been done? Well then, I will happily take the jet. I'll just have to find another way to stand out in the crowd."

"As you wish, Dread Excellency. The plane will be ready within the hour."

HRH King Wight entered with his small entourage, they all made sure to complement Messenger Bailey's hat. 'I've got one just like it at home y'know!' King Wight added, and a number of his attendants nodded. 'Could do with more feathers' one added. 'and sequins!'

One of HRH Lomg Wight's entourage leaned in to whisper to him 'Our spies managed to locate one of East Cunuck's survallance bugs whilst planting our own, we didn't disable it, but in the grand aim of gender bending, we merely hooked it up to transmit she-male porn instead.' King Wight nodded approvingly. 'Make sure to do likewise with any other bugs you find, I want as much gender bent as possible tonight; we don't often get oppurtunities like this...'

HRH King Wight flicks his hair over his shoulders as he enters the room and finds a seat to spread himself across.

*nods politely to Wight, from his own seat, should their eyes meet, and continues to converse with his unseen wraithly allies*

Chief Gamer18 and his companion, Teacher 143, arrive after a long ride.

"Do you think we're the last to show up?" Teacher 143 asked.

"Most likely. Traveling by horse isn't one of the fastest modes of transport in existance." Gamer18 answered. "Come. We don't want to keep the others waiting."

Quietly they entered the gathering, and walked around the room, keeping pretty much to themselves for the time being, although Teacher 143 did ask Messenger Bailey where he could find such a nice hat.

ër... The hat was a gift, you see. From a friend."

He cocks his head to the side, as if listening to somebody.

"Well, he was smirking when he gave it to me... Look, can we not discuss the hat? I'm looking into the feather and sequins thing, but we have Regional business to discuss."

He clears his throat and seems to chew on the collar of his coat a moment before continuing.

Ït has come to the attention of his Most Holy Emperor Poor that there is an... interesting build-up of military forces along several borders within the Vampire Forumites Region. He wishes to be told whether a war is coming or not, so that he may have an army properly prepared to participate."

He scans the assembled delegates' faces a moment.

"Right. Well, since nobody will be forthcoming with the telling of top secret plans, His Most Holy Emperor Poor is willing to listen to a private audience. He is waiting in the dark room at the end of the dark hall, just past the solarium."

With that, Messenger Bailey continues to ponder the consequences of adding feathers to his already dangerously heavy hat.

*nods to Gamer18, smiling slightly, an expression of recognition as if they had ever met*

"Dread Excellency, are you sure about this?" Ambassador FFS-42205 asks.

Dread Excellency The SOI-bot looks up from his last minute preparations. "Of course I am. You would not let me take a zeppelin here, so this is my last chance to draw attention to my entrance."

"Must you?"

"I am The SOI-bot, of course I must."

And with that, the SOI-bot opens the door on his private jet and hurls himself into the sky. A few moments later, he pulls the rip cord on his parachute. It opens and his freefall is halted. He drifts steadily to the earth beneath him, on target for the Elysium gathering of his fellow heads-of-state.

When everybody has settled in, Prime Minister FolcoBoffin motions to the band who starts to play very loudly for a minute then stops. Folco clears his throat and the say, loudly so that everyone can hear:

"Welcome ladies and gentlemen
to the show that never ends
we're so glad you could attend
come inside, come inside

Now that most of the delegations are here, except for SOI-bot who is watching via satelite, it is the wishes of the East Canuck nation that this Elysium serves a neutral ground so that we can resolves our disputes peacefully.

Each nation has a private chamber where they can meet privately and the chef can prepare any meal you want. Please enjoy yourselves."

When the polite applause died down, he added

"I would also like to thank all that supported East Canuck in our bid to win the title of UN Delegate. I will endeavour to protect our interest to the best of my abilities. Thank You."

The band resumed playing and Prime Minister FolcoBoffin started to mingle with his guests. And that is when the SOI-bot made his grand entrance.

Suddenly, the lights in Elysium die down to a faint glow. The members of the extant nations of the region of Vampire Forumites all gaze towards the slowly opening doors of the hallowed halls. A voice speaks over a PA System...

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I present to you a God-turned-Man so Holy it's like he was used for machine gun target practice! A being of so much Dread that he could be Rastafarian! A leader so soverign that he is immune to the force of his own puns... Tony "The Mighty Grendel" Murlin!"

And with that, the doors swing open and the lights shine bright. Scores of barely clothed dancing girls enter the room, waving thin, transparent silk cloths about in an artful fashion. Then, several steroidally buff men with crazy tatoos come marching in, carrying upon their shoulders a throne of solid platnum.

Sitting upon this throne sits a chunky, so-white-that-he-might-be-transparent, geeky man in a pair of torn-at-the-ankles cargo pants and an unevenly faded, far-too-big red shirt. A dark and mysterious aura of (probabily not so) Divine Right surrounds him.

The beefy, broad shouldered men place his throne down on the floor. After a few seconds worth of gazing about the room, he stands, which immediately prompts his servants to kneel on the ground, averting their gaze from his (un)holiness. Slowly, and with the stern look of one who rules with an iron fist, he steps away from the throne.

"Whutup gents? Virgins for EVERYBODY!" he says, his demeanor (not his nature... tee hee) lightening up immediately. :D

And with that, his servants step towards the back of the room, hefting the throne with them...

Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease,
The Leader of Murlinistan... or (to the non-plebians) The Mighty Grendel

A tall man walks into Elysium..

"Aah, how nice to be here, finnaly some familiar faces again." He takes a look at Bailey. "You know, that hat must be the most ugly hat I've ever seen, how dare you show yourself with something like that on your head, shame on you." He takes a quick look around. "If i were you I'd get ridd of it before the Harpies arrive, no harm done yet."

Then he walks off to the bar and sits down sipping on a glass of blood.

Messenger Bailey whipes a tear from his eye, as the lights go down aorund him. It's all very melodramatic.

*smiles slightly, getting up and reseating himself near Bailey, whispering*

...it's not such a bad little hat...



spelling correction

The SOI-bot stands just outside the doors leading into the Elysium, just about ready to make his grand entrance. Just as he opens the door, the delegation from the Holy Empire of Murlinistan walks through and begins to make their presence known.

The SOI-bot remains standing outside, holding the door open like a common doorman. Shock gives way to a quiet fury, though no expression is visible on the SOI-bot's face. His eyes, however, glow with rage.

Storming into the Elysium, the SOI-bot pushes past the Murlinistani servants. He heads straight for a quiet corner where he begins to plot and scheme.

Takes a look at the capital stupidity of the delegation from the Holy Empire of Murlinistan.

"Hmm, this can actually be fun tonight"

*waiting for Bailey's response while subtley, casually looking him over for indications of mortality and/or vampirism, his hightened sense of smell for fresh vital blood and cursed, his auspiciously preternatural sense of sight taking in the finer details, his highly accute hearing all but perfectly tracking and analyzing the rythym of Bailey's breathing above the din of Murlin's entrance*

*takes a look at all of the others in Elysium who are more or less impressed with his entrance (by his reckoning [no pun intended], at least). Sits down close to the other member nations and thinks pensively a while.... then takes out a sheet of paper and begins to scribble for a little while, then puts it away*

"So, gentlepersons of the great Vampire Forumites EMPIRE! When do we begin our fiendish world domination schemes?"

*looks upon the annoyed faces of Vampire Elders who are used to a bit more tact than this, subconsciously gulps, shrugs it off, and then sees Minister Bailey off in the corner*

"Dear... Go...uh... ME! I swear by all that I own that is Holy, that must be the greatest hat a man-turned-god ever looked upon! The style, the girth, the texture, the non-contemporary comparisons that could be made... that hat is close to perfect, O leader of Porovia! The very look of it, how the light glances off of it in that special way... I must turn away, lest I weep!"

*turns away, and recieves a small bundle of money from several investors who paid him to compliment the hat*

"So... we're all Elders, huh? Man, I love sublty!"

Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease,
TMG, the three greatest initials evar

After witnessing the arrival of the Murlinistan delegation, Gregor Asmadi stiffles a yawn. He walks over to Prime Minister FolcoBoffin and says, "Let me know when someone interesting shows up."

The God-King then walks to the private chamber that has been set aside for him.

*turns from the inconsolable Bailey to make a request of a nearbye wraith, sending it to network with his other spies, then turns to grasp the attention of one of East Canuck's servers*

...a glass of bloodwyne please... rafastio female, canted at the mortal age of 19 and prior to 1917.



[OOC note: in the vintages of revenant bloodwynes, "mortal age" is multiplied to get the doner's actual age at the time of contribution.]

[DP]

Messenger Bailey, who exudes a most curious canine smell to those attendees with the appropriately heightened senses to detect such, suddenly busies himself with adjusting his hat.

He looks up and studies the room, then realizing there isn't a discussion going on, continues with his hat adjustment procedures.

And in a dark room, on a throne of jade and wood, an Emperor sat and waited for his attention to be gripped.

*A waiter brings Druthulhu his bloodwyne and hands him a note saying*

"Primogen Druthulhu,

the nation of East Canuck is appalled by the heavy handed tactics of the Vampire Mithras and wants you to know that, should your two nation go to war, our troops commited to Mithras will be late in going to the battle. I'm sorry but that's the best I can do for someone not in the UN.

Should you become a UN member and support my reign as Delegate, the Nation of East Canuck would immediately side with our trading partner, Druthulhu.

Prime Minister FolcoBoffin"

Meanwhile, the Prime Minister is greeting the SOI-bot:

"Welcome. So glad you could join us. I though you were going to make a dramatic entrance? Anyway, we've got oil if you ever need it. Come, let me show you your quarters."

FolcoBoffin then proceeds to bring the SOI-bot in the chambers of Asmadonia, quickly close the door and say:
"Telephone for me? I'm coming."

and then goes in his own chambers.

*writes a note on a scroll from a roll of too-large seeming papyrus that he produces from his long black coat, in bold flowing elegant script*

To the August Prime Minister Folcoboffin:

As regards the Emperor Mithras We received word during our travels hereto of his crude tactic at forcing our presence, and were his forces a serious threat to our defensive lines of countermeasures we have yet to see any reason to consider Mithras as anything more than a brash and posturing would-be bully, and his movements a waste of his resources. And yet it has come to our attention that your ally has chosen not to arrive himself, being we believe the only such leader of those with an admitted interest, and as can be plainly seen one of only two represented by proxy.

If to Rule is our Deathright then to do so with Honour and with Nobility is the Responsibility that affords us that Right. We congratulate you on your appointment as U.N. Delagate for the members within our region. Whether or not we ourselves join that body is a decision that is yet to be made. We would remind you that in matters of regional affairs U.N. membership is of little consequence, save to tie the hands of those who would submit to the rule of their own meals.

If you are proposing a trading arrangement We would like to point out that we do not feed our herds chemically treated or genetically modified foods, or meats raised without regard for the comfort of the eaten. Clean power technology is an interest of ours, particularly in compact or mobile form. Iron or preferably titanium are always useful, and considering the like nature of our governing styles a cultural exchange might not be inappropriate as an eventuality.


As your intelligence no doubt tells you the vast majority of our Ministry of Defence budget and personel have been channeled into engineering and support staff, with retirees being recruited by our Ministry of Technology. Consider our apparent lack of a large standing army as well as our policy of compulsive military service and be assured that we have little concern for the Emperor Mithras' conventional forces. At this point an upgrade in the armament of our conventional forces is not deemed needed, but would not be discounted should a sufficiently favourable offer present itself.

As far as exports we have some of the healthiest foodstuffs in the land, uranium, and a healthy and growing biotechnology sector, and our sake is the finest in the Occident. And also in this regard, what are your interests for your receipt in trade?

On a final note, I am told that the Traditions of Elysium are similar to our own Clan Ways of Hospitality and Propriety, and have done my best with what resources I have to memorize them, but I understand that in different lands and at different times certain critical aspects of the Traditions of Elysium have differed. I would be most greatful for a few moments of your time for you to instruct me on the nuances as observed by your own particular sect.



- Regards,
Lord Protector Druthulhu
Keeper of the Assembled Herds of Druthulhu


*hands the note to a steward to bring to Folcoboffin, after subtly planting a curse of guilt-revealing upon it for anyone who opens it prior to its intended recipiant*

*puts a tiny CD into some sort of cellular phone/PDA gizmo and types out a few lines*

To the Amazing SOI-bot:

Re: your original offer of "fem-bots". What sort of offer were you thinking of? re: the specifications of various models and your asking price per unit.

- Regards,
Lord Protector Druthulhu
Keeper of the Assembled Herds of Druthulhu


*walks casually over to the SOI-bot and hands him the disc, after having saved to it*

Truly great leaders do not compete like children for the pomp of their entrances, my friend.

*smiles warmly and sips his bloodwyne, pausing a moment for a reply if it is coming, strolling casually off if it is not*

God-King Asmadi is nearly asleep, having found a comfortable couch to recline on, when the door to the private chamber opens. Prime Minister FolcoBoffin quickly escorts the SOI-bot inside before closing the door behind him.

"I said 'someone interesting!'" God-King Asmadi shouts after the fleeing Prime Minister.

The God-King sighs and looks at his guest.

"Hey look, sorry about that whole throwing your brain in the sea incident a while back. No hard feelings?"

Just then the door opens again, and Druthulhu enters. He hands something to the SOI-bot and says something to him that the God-King cannot hear.

"I thought these were private chambers!"

The God-King brushes past the SOI-bot and Druthulhu in search of another, less occupied room.

Still sulking in the corner, The SOI-bot is at first unaware that he is being escorted by the Prime Minister of East Canuck. He is a little surprised as he finds himself being pushed into a small room.

"I said 'someone interesting!'" The SOI-bot hears the occupant of the room call out. That's when he realizes he is sharing this room with the so-called God-King of Asmadonia. The SOI-bot struggles with the urge to cross the room and throttle Asmadi.

"Hey look, sorry about that whole throwing your brain in the sea incident a while back. No hard feelings?" the God-King says.

No hard feelings? The SOI-bot thinks to himself. How dare he just dismiss it? The urge to beat Asmadi into a bloody pulp is near overwhelming. But before he has a chance to act on this urge, the door opens behind him.

Druthulhu hands The SOI-bot a disc, which he scans quickly.

"Truly great leaders do not compete like children for the pomp of their entrances, my friend," Druthulhu says as he sips his beverage.

"I thought these were private chambers!" The God-King shouts before storming out in a huff.

The SOI-bot turns to Druthulhu and says, "We would be quite happy to deal with you. Our Female Companion Units come with a variety of programming. Whatever your heart may desire is available, for a price. The base models start out at about 15,000 SOIbeans, and our top FemComs run about 25,000 SOIbeans. We would be happy to offer a volume discount, if you are interested."

Prime Minister FolcoBoffin is sitting when he sees the God-King Asmadi passing in front of his room, muttering "There's nowhere quiet in this place?". Upon hearing that FolcoBoffin stiffen a chuckle.

A waiter enters with a long scroll and gives it to Folco who reads it attentively. He then grab the phone and calls Ambassador Pippin.

Pippin: "Pippin"
Folco: "Yeah, it's me. Listen I want you to send our trading package to the land Dru."
P: "Ok but souldn't you be in better place to do it?"
FB: "Yes but I can't both approach Druthulhu and threathen him in the same night, now do I?"
P: "All right, I'll send out what we need and what we can offer from here."
FB: "Oh, and Pippin, try not to give away the country."

and then hangs up.

*takes his little machine and writes some more, on the same disc if offered back, and hands it to the SOI-bot*



To the SOI-bot

I had hoped for a more subtle response, although since I was never promised such I should not care. At any rate, in addition I would be interested in bot models of other than the "Companion" series, as well as specifications for the construction of any models that may be, by your standards, sufficiently out-of-date to share with your trading partners.

Regards,
Druthulhu

The SOI-bot takes the disc from Druthulhu and scans it quickly. He takes amoment to compose a response, and encodes the following on it:

Druthulhu,

You enquired as to procuring fem-bots. Our Female Companion Units are what I assumed you were asking for. If you are looking for military-grade robots, we cannot assist you. All models, current and past, are classified and not for sale. We apologize for any confusion.

The SOI-bot

His Dread Excellency then hands the disc back to Druthulhu.

*reads and chuckles*

...ahh... a gender-segragated robotic army, I see... very well then, perhaps in the future such things may be... liberated.

*winks at the SOI-bot and then looks around at Asmadi's "private" chamber*

Do YOUR quarters have an ice sculpture of David that urinates vitae, my friend? ...for I know that mine do not...

*chuckles and sips his drink, then wanders off*

OOC:

*smiles and takes off his Diplomat nametag and replaces it with a new nametag*

"I do hope I'm only fashionably late," muttered Prince Ninja of the Hatchet, ruler of the Principality of Random Cool Things, as he strolled into Elysium, followed by a leashed Sean Connery.

He attempts to lurk to the back of the room while the onlookers are occupied with various trivialities.

*smiles and wanders over to Prince Ninja*

Good evening, my friend. How has the night found you so far?

"Damn! I've been found out!" thought the prince nervously. "Perhaps a long and pointless tale is in order..."

He turns to greet Druthulhu.

"Ah! Lord Protector, how good it is to see you!" exclaims Prince Ninja. "The night has been quite well, though I experienced some madcap hijinks on the way here, didn't we Sean? Let me tell you it was awful; first we ran into some nut calling himself 'El Diablo Verde'..."

*one long, pointless tale later*

"... So I said, 'That's no ham sandwhich, that's my mother-in-law!' And that's how Sean and I discovered the true meaning of Flag Day."

The prince searches for signs of boredom in his listener.

"And how has your night been?"

*smiles broadly*

Very entertaining so far, thank you.

So tell me... what are your feelings as regards the contentions over U.N. Delegation between local capitalist and totalitarian nations and the democratic and socialist ones?

*sips his bloodwyne while awaiting*

"To be quite honest," the prince begins, "I couldn't care less. However, I have heard disturbing rumors about what the future may hold, particularly where fighting is involved. I don't know about you, but I'm looking out for number one, and I'm aiming to get my hands on some allies as soon as I can. Does my forthrightness surprise you?"

*grins knowingly*

Oh, but of course not. A little prior to your own arrival I floated some balloons myself... it seems that many here are quite eager to meet such rumours with ill-advised force.

*sips*

But considering the vast size of the world in which we live, I would think that our common interests as a region would be more of an induction to stick together, for the common good. In addition to the untold billions of kyne and other not-us creatures out there, there are several other regions founded on the principle of vampiric rule. I believe it would be far more in our own interest, rather than engaging in petty squabbling amongst ourselves, to gather intelligence of these regions and to determine a unified position as regarding them.

The Hierophant sits in his chamber and ponders. Everything was falling into place and soon Mithras's plan would be fulfilled. He then turned to the beautiful women who had just appeared.

"Ah, queen Anne, it is my wish that you give this message to Prime Minister Folco Boffin. Make sure no-one sees you hand it to him or reads the message"

With a slight flick of his hand, Anne dissapears into the shadows.

"soon, we will rule"

"Sir?" The guard knocks again on the ornate double doors.

"Yes, you may enter now" states a tired voice from inside the chamber. The guard cautiously opens the doors, and steps into the large room. Towering bookshelves line every wall and a long table dominates the center of this chamber. The only source of light is the dim glow of a laptop moniter. A man sits at the table in front of the laptop, his face just far enough away from the screen to hide his features in the darkness. The guard salutes and presents an envelope.

"My apologizes, sir. I didn't realize you were..." His voice trails off as the guard realizes the only people in the room are himself and his superior. "I..uh..thought you were speaking with..."

"Yes, which is precisely why I ordered you to wait outside. Now, what is that you have for me?"

"It is from the Prime Minister of East Canuck. An invitation to attend Elysium, sir. I'm afraid that it has arrived late. Perhaps there was trouble..."

"LATE?!! Damn it man! Fax a message to the Prime Minister immediately, let him know the Grand Tsar of the Fiefdom of Dementate plans be in attendance. Unfortunately, matters of the state caused some unexpected delays. Now ready my transportation and gather the usual crew to accompany me. Go!"

The guard salutes and exits, closing the doors behind him.

A voice says, "Perhaps you should have passed that flogging legislation to punish the mail carrier service, yes?"

The Grand Tsar Dirsko Anisimov can only respond by rolling his eyes

The God-King wanders into an unoccupied room. He collapses on the couch along the far wall. Once again on the verge of sleep after only moments, he is rudely jolted awake by the ringing of his cell phone.

"Hello?" he mumbles into the phone.

"Sire, I have some news," the voice of Ambassador F.B. Fax says.

"Ok. I was trying to take a nap, but go ahead."

"We have replaced East Canuck as the region's UN Delegate. I have dispatched a representative to make sure our positions are made clear. Also, we have received an offer to trade embassies with the Protectorate of Druthulhu. We are awaiting details, but will be sending an ambassador. Oh, and one final note, going back to the UN Delegate position, East Canuck has withdrawn their endorsement of us in protest."

"What? We're members of the UN?"

"Yes, sire, I told you that weeks ago."

"Oh, yes, I remember that, now. So, East Canuck is no longer supporting us?"

"That is correct, sire."

"Well, I will go have a chat with that huang de fu bu lu sishengzi, Prime Minister FolcoBoffin!"

"Sire, calm down. I will work this out through the proper channels. Take your nap, you'll feel better."

The God-King ended the call abruptly and stormed off in search of Prime Minister FolcoBoffin.

"Dear fellows of the Region. It is at this time that I would like to extend to you the a trade /cooperation against agression agreement which, henceforth, shall be known as the Murlinistan Pact of 2004..."

Emisaries from the country of Murlinistan begin to pass around copies of the agreement, which states:

"ARTICLE 1

By pledging yourself to this agreement, the country you represent agrees to enter into a trade agreement with the Holy Empire of Murlinistan, allowing for the trade of goods and labor between Murlinistan and your country.

ARTICLE 2

By pledging yourself to this agreement, the country you represent agrees to assist The Holy Empire of Murlinistan in whatever confrontation of Social, Political, and/or Physical agression that infects our Sacred State and Peace. Such confrontations include, but are not limited to: Full Scale Wars, Civil Wars (in which case, the agreement stands between the Current Holy Government and the signer), Flame Wars, and Cold Wars. In return, The Most Gracious and Holy Empire of Murlinistan agrees to assist the signer in conflicts of Social, Political, and/or Physical Agression that may be infecting the sacred peace of your soverign nation."

What say you, my fellow Forumites?


OOC: Sorry for being gone so long... summer school. Ech.

Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease,
TMG

God-King Gregor Asmadi storms through the Elysium looking for the Prime Minister of East Canuck. An emissary from Murlinistan tries to hand a piece of paper to the God-King, but he none-too-gently refuses to look at it at the moment. Before he can locate the Prime Minister, his cell phone begins to ring.

"WHAT?!?"

"Sire, I have news," the Archbishop says through the phone.

"Can't it wait, I'm trying to locate..."

"No," the Archbishop interrupts, "you need to hear this immediately."

The God-King stops walking and moves to a secluded corner of the room. "Fine."

"We are no longer the Delegate to the UN for the region. We have been replaced."

"But, . . . we were . . . what?"

"The Empire of The vampire Mithras has been elected to the position. So, cussing out the Prime Minister of East Canuck would be useless and do great harm to our nation."

The God-King looks about the room, somewhat confused. "So, who am I supposed to be mad at?"

"No one, sire. Just go lie down, take a nap, and everything will be all right."

"Ok. I guess you are right. Oh, I just remembered, one of those Murlinistan people tried to give me a piece of paper, something about trade and support or something. What should I do?"

"Take your nap and I'll handle whatever proposal is being made. Have a good rest, sire."

"Yeah, thanks." The God-King ends the call and then goes off in search of a quiet room to take his long delayed nap.

Gregor Asmadi, God-King of the Holy Empire of Asmadonia, was on his way to take a nap, but he stops suddenly. He looks around as he feels a certain "oddness" about him. He closes his eyes and focuses his mind.

"Aha!" he says aloud to no one in particular, "someone has used Temporis to trap us in stasis for about two weeks."

The God-King is quite pleased with himself for solving this mystery so quickly, when the implications of it occur to him.

"Oh, go-se! Someone here has access to Temporis. And used it. I must figure out who that is. And also, I should probably stop talking to myself out loud."

The God-King walks back to the main room in the Elysium, searching for his host first. He searches for quite some time before coming to the conclusion that Prime Minister FolcoBoffin is missing. And so is the Hierophant of Mithras.

"Hm. Very suspicious. There may be something to these disappearances. And I'm still talking to myself out loud."

The God-King sets out to find Druthulhu.

"I don't know if he can help, or if he's involved, but at least maybe if I find someone, I'll stop talking to myself in incredibly long run-on sentences."

*stands nearby the Prince of Random Cool Things, a lull in the conversation as he reads the missive from the King of Murlinistan*

Standing before a large map of the Vampire Forumite region, a youthful dark-haired man quietly studies the many nations. Turning from the display to a large nearby window in the dimly-lit study, he peers out from the tiny keep over the night-shrouded territory of his ever-expanding nation. The first traces of the approaching dawn peek out from the distant horizon; he feels the cursed tug of sleep already beginning to lull his body.

"It's time..." he says aloud, somewhat surprised by his own voice.

From the other side of the room, an attractive young woman looks up from her own interests in response.

"What's time?" she inquires.

"Time to petition for entry in the region. We've stood outside long enough - the only way to learn more is to interact with them, be -among- them." He spins away from the window, striding across the floor to stand near the seated female. "If we are to have any hope of continuing our efforts, it's a step that must be taken. I trust that you will see that the proper paperwork is drawn up and sent to their delegate?"

"Of course, but I'm not sure it's the wisest move. As a neutral state, we avoid detection by most factions. I'm quite sure many in the region will have barely heard of us! Not to mention the fact that -he- may discover our secret ru..." The girl's reply is cut off by a sharp look from the male, which quickly softens as he gazes upon her.

"Ah, mei-mei, I really believe it's for the best." He reaches out to gently caress her pale cheek. She smiles slightly, then nods briefly in acquiesce. "Good. Now, let us retire - such a great change has taken place, and we'll need our energy to take full advantage..."


<<OOC: Greetings from Ripplepoint! I have -finally- gotten access to these new forums, and hope to join in the fun!>>

The God-King spots Druthulhu standing behind the prince of Random Things. Gregor walks quickly towards the pair. He nods briefly to the prince of Random Things, then turns his attention to Druthulhu.

"Lord Protector, it is good to see you. Have you noticed any strangeness lately? I am trying to locate Prime Minister FolcoBoffin, but he seems to have vanished, as has the Hierophant. Have you seen either of them?"

>>System Reboot Beginning...

>>All Systems online...

Dread Excellency The SOI-bot regains awareness and immediately wonders why he is lying sprawled on the floor of private chamber. He slowly gets to his feet and looks around, and sees no one in visual range. Reaching up to his left ear, The SOI-bot activates his long-range transmitter.

"Ambassador, come in. This is Dread Excellency The SOI-bot."

"Sir!" Ambassador FFS-42205 exclaims over the transmitter. "We have been trying to reach you for weeks. What happened? Are you functioning properly?"

"Yes, I am well. What do you mean you have been trying to contact me for weeks? I have only been here for a few days at most."

"I'm sorry to contradict you, Dread Excellency, but you and the rest of the regional leaders have been incommunicado for about two weeks. We tried to send in a small rescue unit, but they were unable to enter East Canuck airspace."

"This is troubling. I shall set out to see what the others here may know. Do what you can to determine what happened. We must find out if one of our fellow nations has some new weapon."

"Of course, sir."

The SOI-bot terminates the connection and leaves the private chamber. He begins to mingle with his fellow leaders once again.

The Grand Tsar puts down the phone, opens his daily reminder book and places a check mark next to a scribbled note that says "Call Lord Protector, discuss embassy".

Putting the book away, he leans forward and presses a speaker button. "Driver, how much sooner untill we arrive at Elysium? I am sure there is important business I am missing. Probably trade agreements and the like."

The driver answers, "We've just arrived right now, sir. Once I find a place to park that is."

*nods politely at the King of Asmadonia*

And what would you consider strangeness in a world of untold quadrillions of mortals, where entire nations, lush forests and all, fly from region to region across an ever expanding globe?

*grins subtley and sips his wyne*

The Grand Tsar of Dementate takes a moment for final preparation before entering Elysium. Pacing back and forth before the threshold, Dirsko Anisimov attempts to clear his mind when a familar voice speaks, "You're already late, perhaps you should just enter."

"You again?! Now?!" The Grand Tsar turns sharply and stares out into the darkness. "I certainly hope you don't plan on wasting my ti..."

"The nation of Rippoli, have you heard of it? No, of course you haven't. But perhaps you will soon. I have heard rumors." The voice, as serious as the grave, trails off..."And I will see you inside..."

Dirsko quietly swears in anger, then turns his attention back to Elysium. Taking a deep breath (one his body has not needed for a long time) to calm himself, Dirsko walks resolutely to the doors and enters Elysium.

*receives word from a wraithly lookout that the Grand Tzar of Dementate has arrived*

In the midst of the assembled members of Elysium finds a young man clad in a dark blue uniform and matching cap. As he scans through the many faces, some may notice a document clasped tightly in his hands. Upon seeing his target audience, his moves to stand before the God-King of Asmadonia. With a deep respectful bow, he holds out the document - a sheet of plastic-film material rather than parchment.

"On behalf of the Grand Commander, the Incorporated States of Rippoli officially petitions for entry into your honorable region."

The messenger, whose uniform bears the name Wave, waits patiently for the God-King's reply.

The God-King stands frozen for a moment, nearly overwhelmed by all of the attention.

Oh, I wish the Archbishop were here right now, he thinks to himself.

He chooses to ignore Druthulhu's question for the moment, and takes another moment to size up the messenger standing before him.

"Ah, young master Wave is it? Hm, well, we in the Vampire Forumites region have a somewhat open policy. Your nation is known to us, so I see no reason to deny your petition. Be welcome in the region and this Elysium. Your head of state is certainly welcome to attend. As you can see, the Grand Tsar of Dementate has just arrived."

Gregor Asmadi gestures towards the door where the Grand Tsar is still standing.

"Now if you will all excuse me, I have some important matters to attend to, um, elsewhere."

The God-King turns and heads back to a private chamber, digging out his cellphone as he goes. As he is distracted, he doesn't notice the SOI-bot walking out of that area, and knocks him down. Gregor just keeps on walking and disappears into a darkened room.

"As I expected." Without turning from his viewing position on the small outside balcony, the Grand Commander commented upon hearing the report from his young messenger. "None-the-less, it -is- good news. It shall be much easier to observe and interact with them from within."

From his vantage point, he gazed out over his burgeoning country. In the distance, he could see the impressive cola-bottle rocket shining like a beacon from its construction pad at the launch yards. In another sector, the grand jungle forests of Rippoli stood vibrant against the darkened landscape. Just below sprawled the grand city, within which his spire towered as the crown jewel among numerous others. Slowly he turned from his viewing position, moving back inside the structure.

"Time to prepare my nation for its new allegiance. And time to meet my compatriots at Elysium."

*chuckles silently deep in his cold dark heart, walking over to the SOI bot and offering a hand*

[Suddenly, the wide double doors burst open, lighting and other flashy special effects occuring. In storms in a tall man, followed closely by three companions. The man is wearing a leather trench coat, that drags slightly behind him. A wide brimmed hat clearly in the style of the Puritans tops his head of long brown hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail. His coat is covered in obscure religious references, occult paraphenalia, and at the bottom left coattail the words "I feel pretty." He looks up and a slight gasp is heard from the crowd. It is the Grand Inquisitor himself, Horatio the Burninator, Slayer of the Twinked One, and Wielder of the Spoon of Azy the Malkavian Spoon Vender, among other titles. He stands and removes his coat, handing it to one of his companions, a woman dressed in what seems to be the cross between a kinky nurse's uniform, form-fitting archiac armor, and a gas mask. His other companions include a man, if it could be called that, with heavy cybernetic augmentation that was furiously scribbling away and another man in heavy carpace armour carrying a shield and a slightly humming sword.]

Horatio: No one...

Everyone else in the room:...expects the Gonite Inquisition, we know, we know.

Horatio: Hmph. Well, I apologize for my lateness. It seems that some of our Border Guard Inquisitorial Stormtroopers and an Initiate Inquisitor got a little...excited with the messenger and subjected him to torture. While they did get the message rather quickly (I do pride myself on our training techniques), they forgot to pass it on. Must have been too caught up in the moment. Oh, don't worry, my good friends and fellow forumites, extensive neural reconditioning should cure him of most of his derangements. Failing that, well, it never hurts to have another servitor.

The SOI-bot accepts Druthulhu's offered hand, and rises to his feet.

"Thank you, Lord Protector."

His Dread Excellency looks about the room and notices the newly arrived Gonite Inquisition. He begins to walk over to the delegation. On his way, he passes Messenger Bailey, and The SOI-bot stops for a moment.

"Messenger Bailey, have I told you recently what a visually pleasing head covering you have?"

The SOI-bot continues on without waiting for an answer.

"Grand Inquisitor, welcome! I know we have had our differences in the past, but I trust you shall agree to abide to the terms of Elysium, as I have."

"Thank you, your Dread Excellency. Of course I shall abstain from my usual habits of burning heretics on sight, as we are here by the good grace of Prime Minister Boffin." [he nods his head politely in Folco Boffin's direction]

"May I introduce my small entourage? The young lady [he points to her and you now notice that her eyes have a certain metallic sheen that highlights the symbol of Gone [=)] in place of pupils] is Sister Secundus Sara Emancipator. She is currently on loan to me from the Officio Medicae, of the Gonite Internal Affairs Department. My other companions are Damien of the 3rd Inquisitorial Storm Trooper Regiment [the man in the armor, who offers a crisp salute] and Lazarus [the automaton who is still scribbling away], a humble servitor of House Durrant, my own noble house."

"I say, what pious and chaste entertainment can we expect here at this Elysium?"

After the Grand Inquisitor's rather flashy entrance, another man strides quietly through the door. He is dressed in Docs, slacks, a t-shirt and an unbuttoned, long-sleeved silk dress-shirt. The sleeves are rolled to the elbow. All are black, but not in a Gothy sort of way.

He nods to those that he knows, and takes in the visages of those he does not. Finally, he takes a seat in a corner. The Pilate, First Hurt amongst his people, has arrived.

*Several minutes later, trumpets sound, and an elven looking man enters, a long robe trailing down to the floor behind him. Others find themselves transfixed with him. Noticing this he smiles and turns to a short plump man with a big nose and weird eyebrows.*

"I see the drinks have been enchanted as I requested. Good work.

"Greetings all! I am Deoq of the Changeling Court of the Jeweled Skull. I hope my late arrival hasn't disrupted anything, but the messenger got a bit lost in a trod on the way. No matter I am here now."

*Proceeds to mingle with the others.*

Entering the Elysium gathering with reserve and subtlety, only the most acute observer takes notice of the entrance of the Grand Commander of Rippoli. A dark-haired, well-dressed man of youthful appearance, he carries himself with just a touch of nobility. His deep blue longcoat lays atop a golden vest, crisp white shirt, and dark slacks. Removing his rounded sunglasses, bright blue eyes scan the crowd casually. And as he tucks the eyewear away inside his coat, a gold watch chain leading to a vest pocket becomes visible. Shortly thereafter, he begins to make his way through both familiar and not-so-familiar faces, where he happens upon one Messenger Bailey and his fabled hat.

"Ah, the good Messenger Bailey, I presume. Although we have never had the pleasure, the grand tales of your fine hat have reached even the lands of my distant nation. I must say that the descriptions do not do it proper justice." With a polite nod, he leaves Bailey to bask in pride.

Further into the crowd, the Grand Commander locates the God-King and extends a hand in greeting.

"Delegate Asmadi, it's a pleasure to meet under more pleasant circumstances. Thank you for admitting my nation into your region, as well as your recent endorsement. Forgive me for not returning the favor yet, I'm afraid I had to leave for this assemblage before completing the task - I did not wish to be too terribly tardy." Ripplepoint finishes his opening by flashing a smile...

*While mingling, High Lord Deoq, of the Jeweled Skull spots a hat, something inside him clicks, and he darts towards the wearer unnaturally quickly.*

"Why, I must have that hat, as you see, it is a valuable treasure of my kind, and we have been searching for it for decades. We will be sure to provide anything you may desire.

*Deoq clicks his fingers, and two satyrs strut over, seating themselves next to Bailey and rubbing his chest.*

"Tell me my friend, what do you desire?"

The God-King presses the first button on his speed dial as soon as he is alone.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end says.

"Old friend, things are getting out of hand here. I still cannot locate the Hierophant, Lord Protector Druthulhu either believes nothing is out of the ordinary or has a hand in all of the strangeness, Rippoli has petitioned to join the region, and the Grand Tsar of Dementate arrived. This is utter madness!"

"Sire," the Archbishop says, "calm down. You need to relax. Everything will be fine. Just approach each item one at a time and don't allow yourself to be overwhelmed. And for your own sake, drop this paranoia about the use of Temporis."

"Paranoia? I'm not paranoid! I'm simply cautious. I didn't become God-King by ignoring things!" Gregor hisses into the phone.

"No, you became God-King by being the only heir to a megalomaniacal crackpot who happened to be ruler of a country. Don't allow yourself to believe the lie we have sold to the citizenry. Now, get a hold of yourself, and get back out there. My sources tell me that Grand Inquisitor Horatio of the Theocracy of the Gonite Inquisition, Pilate, First Hurt of the Most Serene Republic of the Wounded Martyrs, Deoq of the Changeling House of the Jeweled Skull, and the Grand Commander of Rippoli have all recently arrived."

"How do you know all of this?"

"Sire, Druthulhu is not the only one with spies within Elysium." The God-King could practically hear the Archbishop smiling.

"Very well, I shall attend to the gathering. Thank you, old friend."

The line goes dead as the Archbishop terminates the call. The God-King takes a moment to calm himself, and then returns to the party. As he re-enters the room, he sees a man who he can only assume is the Grand Commander of Rippoli walking towards him, with his hand extended in greeting.

"Delegate Asmadi, it's a pleasure to meet under more pleasant circumstances. Thank you for admitting my nation into your region, as well as your recent endorsement. Forgive me for not returning the favor yet, I'm afraid I had to leave for this assemblage before completing the task - I did not wish to be too terribly tardy."

Gregor takes the offered hand and shakes it.

"My title, sir, is God-King. We are the region's UN delegate, but the title really only applies to the ambassador representing us with that esteemed body. And as you can see, Delegate Brogard is not here. I would appreciate it in the future if you would address me properly. As for our endorsement, we are glad to extend it to you. We are glad you have joined us, and look forward to long and amicable relations between our two nations. If you wish to endorse us in return, we would be grateful, though we do not consider you obliged to do so. Since our host is not currently present, let me close my long-winded hushuo shouhua by officially welcoming you to Elysium. Enjoy yourself!"

[Noticing the First Hurt taking a seat, Grand Inquisitor Horatio walks over to him.]

"Well, well, well. My old companion, the Pilate is here. It is a pleasure to see you once more. I hope I find you in better health than normal?"

[he then notices the satyrs caressing an increasingly,...well, it's hard to say what emotion he's feeling right now,...Messenger Bailey. Horatio snorts.]

"Such blasphemous behavior in public. How disgusting. And besides, it's only hat. Not like they don't have plenty of their own."

Quickly stepping aside so as to allow the other numerous leaders to enter Elysium unimpeded, Grand Tsar Dirsko Anisimov hovers with his back against the far wall to better survey all in attendance. Many seem to be preoccuppied with watching the various theatrical entrances, giving the Grand Tsar a brief moment to concentrate on the auras of his fellow heads of state.

Unexpectedly, an unnamed emissary hands him an agreement form bearing the seal of the Murlinistan. Dirsko takes a moment to read it over. "Hmm..perhaps pleasure first before business. I do not wish to appear rude or unsocialable," thinks the Grand Tsar. With a quick motion, he slips the form into his inside jacket pocket that compliments his black and red, nostalgic, turn of the 20th century suit. "Perhaps a refreshment is in order," he says to himself.

In crossing the room in his hunt for a drink, the Grand Tsar can not help but notice Messenger Bailey and his intriguing headware. "I would think a hat of that magnitude would give your neck cramps."

The Pilate rises from his seat as the Grand Inquisitor approaches.

"It's a pleasure to see you as well, my friend. My health is as it always is: good enough to last an eternity, even if I awake with cracked ribs every evening."

::Follows Horatio's gaze as he speaks::

"Indeed. The poor fellow suffers greatly for his nation."

*Assuming messenger Bailey is feeling too... emotional to reply, High Lord Deoq grabs the hat.*

Yoink!

*He retrieves an exact copy of the hat from under his robes, and gives the real one to another of his entourage, a Middle-Eastern man, who smiles, clicks his fingers and vanishes. Deoq puts the copy of the hat onto Bailey's head.*

Thank you for your cooperation.

*Deoq clicks his fingers, and the satyrs vanish.*

Good day.

*Deoq walks off, in search of someone or something more interesting to talk to.*

*has been watching the apparent seduction, concluding in a clear magical violation of Elysium, and speaking the ritual that fetters the hat to one of his wraithly bondservants ... now he calls another, and when it arrives, he speaks very softly*

Go and tell Prime Minister Folcoboffin one of his guests has been abusing the Traditions of these sanctified halls.

*as the creature nods and smiles politely Druthulhu draws a small book from his coat pocket and tears out a page, destroying it with a nearby candle flame ... as the paper burns the little spirit seems to move with a slightly greater brightness, visible to any who can see her in the first place*



[[ ooc: if you can godmode Baily's hat away ... don't even think of calling me for a part of my posting in the past perfect ^__^ ]]

Carefully leaving the vicinity of Messenger Bailey and High Lord Deoq, the Grand Tsar spots the refreshments he so desires. Lifting a glass goblet, he takes a sip to test the vintage. With a nod of approval, Dirsko Anisimov turns and casually walks towards the Grand Commander of Rippoli and the God-King of Asmadonia. Patiently sipping from his goblet and waiting until there is an appropriate break in the conversation, the Grand Tsar says, "Well met Grand Commander. Greetings to you as well, God-King."

With the polite introduction out of the way, the Grand Tsar asks, "Pardon my curiosity Grand Commander, but I understand your nation has recently joined the region. May I inquire as to what lead you here?"

"Ah, Grand Tsar, is it? A pleasure." Rip punctuates his greeting with a short respectful nod.

"As for your question, it seemed the only reasonable choice. Better to be among one's own kind, seeing as we share many similar interests. Additionially, I do rather enjoy the relations between our various personages..." The Grand Commander trails off as he notes the commotion over Messenger Bailey's hat. A curoius smile briefly crosses his face before returning to the current conversation.

"...ah, forgive me. As you can see, only from -within- can one truly observe and learn. But how I do prattle on - perhaps you would care to share your own reasons for joining this august body?"

Turning to the still adjacent God-King, the Grand Commander addresses him directly.

"My apologies, I do not wish to offend. First, forgive my faux pas with your title; I am still fresh to these proceedings. Second, I hope you will join the conversation with the Tsar and I. I know -I- am curious to learn more about our esteemed UN delegate, as well as forming a strong working relationship."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rip catches a quick glint of metal. 'The SOI-Bot.'
he thinks. 'How odd that it is here as well as...' He focuses back on Asmadi, dropping his thoughts for the conversation at hand.

"No offense taken, Grand Commander," the God-King replies. "I just wanted to point out the proper term is all."

Gregor turns to the Grand Tsar of Dementate. "Greetings, Grand Tsar. I'm glad you have found your way here."

The God-King looks at Deoq and Messenger Bailey for several moments with an odd expression on his face. "Did anyone else sense a cantrip being cast?"

Gregor absent-mindedly reaches down to his side before remembering that he is in Elysium and therefore does not have his chimerical katana on him. His normally pale blue eyes shift to a glowing red for a moment, and then shift back.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, what were we discussing? Ah yes, the Grand Commander had been inquiring about us. What is it that you wish to know?"

OOC: Ok, sorry for interupting this thread, but it seems that those in this... Elysium, could help be a part of something very interesting.

First, go here,

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=308554&highlight=Valient

and then Tg me. thanks.

OOC: I like the idea, needs a few more Changelings or Mages though. =)

IC: *Deoq catches sight of the 'refreshments table' and turns to his boggan servant.*

I could do with a drink.

*And with that he takes a glass of the latest vintage, much to the dismay of his stuttering servant, he takes a sip, and promptly spits it back out.*

What the hell do they think they're serving here?! I've gotten more kick from something brewed by a sluagh!

Waiter! Yes, you. Fetch me a bloody mary, without blood this time!

*Deoq raises himself up, regaining his 'Dignified look'. Sometimes it's fun to act like a peasant.*

[Horatio speaks up, loudly, so that the entire Elysium can hear]

"So, I wonder what the point and the purpose behind this Elysium is?"

[to Martyrswounds]

"The services of the Officio Medicae [points to Sister Sara] are always open to you and your people."

The SOI-bot walks up to the Grand Inquisitor.

"As I understand it, this Elysium exists as a way for the various heads of state of our region to gather together to socialize and politic to our hearts' content - unbeating, mechanical or otherwise. In the words of our esteemed host 'together, we can all discuss the policies and problems of the land.'"

With that the Dread Excellency leaves the Grand Inquisitor to his conversation with the Pilate, and strolls across the room to join Deoq at the refreshment table.

"So, you are not one of these vampires either then? Based on your comments, I gather you are a Changeling, yes?"

The SOI-bot smiles and before Deoq can answer, he turns towards God-King Asmadi and begins to chant (softly at first, though each repitition grows louder): Poo-ka! Poo-ka! Poo-ka! Poo-ka!

Just as Ripplepoint begins to respond to the God-King's last query, he is outvoiced by the Grand Inquisitor's postulation. He turns to view the source, taking note as the SOI-Bot addresses the outspoken individual. Once assured the moment has passed, Rip again faces Asmadi.

"There's always -something- going on at these functions, isn't there? However, the one called Horatio does have a point: do we have any current political agendas for our region? Or merely our own individual ones?"

Without giving much pause for a reply, it seems the Grand Commander's questions may have been more rhetorical in nature. "Alas, the idea has come full circle, back to our original discourse. What do you..." Rip finds himself again overcome vocally by the now-chanting SOI-Bot. Upon hearing its repeated refrain, the Grand Commander steps back from the God-King, knowing too well his reputation regarding the Pooka...

Deoq pauses for a moment, wondering why the SOI-bot is acting so strangely.
He shrugs and waits for it to calm down. In the mean-time, his bloody mary arrives. He watches the robot patiently, bending down and saying to a nearby Nocker,

"He's not malfunctioning is he?"

The Nocker pokes the SOI-bot, then nods his head in thought.

"No, seems perfectly OK, to me, (*whispers* idiot.) Why if I had built this, it would certainly behave a lot better, and would be more useful. Hell this thing's about as useful as Bender from Futurama."

Deoq just nods his head, and watches bemused.

The God-King is preparing to respond to the Grand Commander's questions when he hears the chanting of The SOI-bot. Gregor Asmadi, Slaughterer of the Arizonan Dancing Pooka, is not amused.

His eyes change once again from their pale blue color, this time to a milky white. The God-King's canine teeth extend to full-fledged fangs. Claws, each a few inches long, grow from his fingers.

The God-King turns from the Grand Commander to face The SOI-bot across the crowded room.

He snarls, "Will someone please muzzle that shiying huanjing de fasheng guzhang dui suipian? I won't be held accountable for my actions if it doesn't shut up."

Seeing the murderous look the God-King is giving him, and lethal-even-to-robots claws, The SOI-bot stops chanting. It occurs to him that perhaps he has pushed the God-King a bit too far.

"Well, Deoq, if you will excuse me. I think I will go refresh myself for the next ... (looks at Asmadi) ... long time."

And with that, The SOI-bot quickly leaves the room.

Deoq turns to Ripplepoint, and says quietly,
"What was that all about? Does that robot have a screw loose or something... no pun intended."

"A screw loose? One -might- say that." Edging further away from the angered God-King, then leaning in close enough to speak in a low whisper, Rip continues his reply.

"I have come to discover that the robot is the creation of one of our esteemed peers. I believe its erratic programming to actually be a rather clever attempt to hide its origins. An astute observer may notice certain irregularities, pointing to the robot's true creator..."

"I have reason to believe a small number of the others know as well, but as of yet, the secret remains shrouded. Like most secrets, it only retains importance and value if it stays a secret - thus this one is likely to stay well-guarded."

Standing tall to look out over the crowd once more, the Grand Commander speaks in his normal voice.

"Yes, I suppose we all have our little idiosyncrasies. Well observed, my friend."

Rip casts a look to Asmadi to judge his state of emotion, wondering if perhaps he should let the riled God-King cool for a time before further engaging in conversation...

"Hmmm... very interesting..." says Deoq, pensively, while waving away his Nocker servant to investigate these matters further.

"I am not a scholar of magick, and as far as I know, you are not well versed in Changeling lore, but it puzzles me that our android friend can see Changelings at all, as it is impossible to enchant a machine. Perhaps he exists in both the mundane realm, and that of Dreams.

"Anyway, why does the God-King change like that whenever he is angered? It is most interesting, I wonder if he would explain once he has calmed down.

"Finally, what is a 'shiying huanjing de fasheng guzhang dui suipian?' Forgive me for asking so many questions, but I am not as well versed in Prodigal lore as others."

OOC: Yeah, I'm going to Greece for two weeks, so don't expect to hear from me for a while.

IC: Deoq's boggan servant appears, tugging on his sleeve. Deoq bends down impatiently, and the rather diminuitive man stands on tip-toe to whisper something in his ear. Deoq's face turns white, and he hurries away, with a hurried apology to Ripplepoint for ending the conversation so abruptly.

OOC: Have fun in Greece!

IC: Once The SOI-bot leaves the room, the God-King allows himself to calm down. The claws withdraw and leave his hands looking normal. His fangs retract, and his eyes once more return to normal as well. He spends a moment gathering his thoughts, then turns back to the Grand Commander. He sees Deoq walking off hurriedly.

"So, where were we?"

<<About damn time I was able to access this place without my computer being weird.>>

The darkness shifted, and wanted blood.

Messenger Bailey gives a visible start in the middle of the room, and discretely gives orders into his hat's brim to have a Porovian criminal brought to his Emperor's chambers.

He then went back to looking awesome in his hat.

Dirsko pauses to keep a keen eye on the aura of the God-King. Observing it shift from red to a more calm shade, he turns back to the Grand Commander to answer his question.

"It seems your reasons for joining the region are much akin to my own." The Grand Tsar flashes a brief smile. "I have heard...reports...your nation is working on a uniquely designed spacecraft. I appluad your citizens for their ingenuity and scientific achievements. Do you think it wise to focus on such a frontier when there are so many issues to resolve here on the ground?"

[ooc: This Wednesday = Happy Birthday to me!]

*mutters softly, as if to himself*

...I fear our dear friend Mr. Poor might find his dinner coming to him late... unless that thieving elf thought to include to fullest of details in his counterfeit...

*sighs, and moves casually to where Gregor and Dirsko converse, politely withdrawing if and when any sign appears that his participation is not welcomed*

Suddenly all the lights in the Elysium flicker and a loud crier announces
"Prime Minister Folco Boffin of the Commenwealth of East Canuck"

Folco Boffin then enters back in the Elysium and proceeds to a little balcony.

"Allow me to make a few announcements. First of all, let me explain my prolonged absence. You see I had to crush an upstart rebellion in the southern part of East Canuck. The leader proved a little tougher than I expected. Also, I welcome all the head of states and/or representatives of said state that joined us here. Might I remind everyone that discipline and show of strenght are banned in an Elysium. Taunting are highly frowned upon as is use of cantrips, magic sphere, edge, etc. The complete rules can be viewed in the entrance hall and there's a couple copies availlable to those who request them.
Furthermore, if anybody wants a private audience with me, I'll be in the second door to the right of the common hall. Right between Porovia's chambers and the kitchen. Speaking of wich, the chef tells me that a buffet has been set up and that any exotic needs should be sent to him. Thank You for your time."

He then proceeds to his chambers in a roundabout way, saying hello to everyone.

OCC: I'm back, baby!

Quietly, His Most Holy Emperor Poor sneaks into the kitchen, waves a hand at the kitchen staff in an attempt to mezmerise them, realizes he's never had enough Dominate to make that work, and decides to just politely ask for some bludwyne so he can be all Gothyck and Punke.

They stare at him blankly, give him an apple, and watch him go. His Most Holy Emperor Poor smiles sheepishly, but they cannot see it through the utter darkness... of his SOUL.

The Grand Commander begins to respond to Deoq, only to see his quick departure. 'I must remember to speak with him in the future; he may be of some use.' thinks Rip.

Shortly thereafter, he is re-engaged in conversation by the now calm God-King, but before he can remember where they left off, the representative of Dementate poses his socio-political query.

"The cola rocket? I find the undertaking quite helpful. One, it allows the growth of the soda industry, thereby bringing more revenue into the nation. Two, it's a rather clever moral booster - give the kine something to dream about instead of wallowing in their misery. Which dones a great wonder for the taste of the blood, believe you me. Three, it serves as a great distractor for many observers, of -both- worlds; thus, allowing me to deal with the aforementioned pressing matters with greater freedom." During his oratory, the Grand Commander notes the approach of the one known as Druthulthu. Of particular note was a perceptible lack of acknowledgement of Rip's presence. Was he somehow overlooked... or perhaps knowingly snubbed?

Just then, the lights in Elysium flickered. Enter the Prime Minister, who gives a brief announcement. The Grand Commander watches the brief verbal contacts made among the crowd before FolcoBoffin's departure to a secluded chamber.
Finally, Ripplepoint is able to turn back to the God-King.

"Terribly sorry - so very much to take in all at once. I believe we were on the topic of general intentions, specifically yours as I had already offered mine..."


((OOC: Deoq - probably too late, but enjoy the trip! Olympics, I'm guessing?))
(( Dirsko - Happy B-Day to you! ))
(( FolcoBoffin - Welcome back! (Technically, as I'm fairly new here) ))

"Things do tend to get a bit hectic around here, Grand Commander, but you get used to it ... eventually."

The God-King looks about the room, briefly acknowledging the presence of Druthulhu.

"As to my intentions, I simply am here to enjoy the company of my fellow heads-of-state. Perhaps forge a few trade agreements, arrange for an exchange of diplomats, that sort of thing."

The God-King takes a glass of boodwyne from the tray of a passing waiter. He takes a sip before continuing.

"Also, I'm thinking that perhaps a certain robot needs to be dismantled. But I'll wait on that last bit. No need to anger our newly returned host. Speaking of the Prime Minister, is it just a bit too much of a coincidence that he had a 'rebellion' to quash at the same time those of us here were frozen in time?"

*butts in and nods politely to both*

A misconception, I believe. It seems that while we are here, we experience a sort of time dilation, related to the spacial instability of this world.

*turns and smiles to Rip*

Our own space programme is quite well along by now. If you are interested in logistical intelligence, or *turns to Gregor* scientific data regarding the temporal-spacial properties of this world, perhaps we can come to an arrangement.

*sips*

*a whispy tinkerbellesque little wraith peers through the doorway of FalcoBoffin's chamber, making herself visible and emitting a soft sound, looking to the Prime Minister with a look of requesting entry*

The Grand Tsar greets the Prime Minister as he makes his rounds with a hearty handshake.

As Folco Boffin continues on his way, Dirsko turns back to the conversation at hand. Sipping from his goblet while Druthulhu speaks, he fails to notice the slowly growing, crimson stain seeping through his shirt just above his hip.

"Thank you, Lord Protector," Gregor says. "I'd be very interested in this data you speak of. Until then, I shall stand by my assessment that this was caused by the use of Temporis."

The God-King takes another sip of his bloodwyne. Then his expression changes, inspiration has struck.

"Say, you don't suppose The SOI-bot has access to Temporis? That would be a clear and very serious breach of Elysium rules."

A wide grin spreads across Asmadi's face. He takes another sip of his drink, and then turns to regard the Grand Tsar.

"Um, Grand Tsar, I ... uh ... are you aware that you are ... um ... leaking?"

*Prime Minister FolcoBoffin waves in the tinkerbellesque wraith and adopt a listening posture*

"I'm listening"

"Eh?"

Without looking to see what the God-King might be referring to, the Grand Tsar instinctively adjusts the jacket of his suit to cover the area.

"Excuse me gentlemen" says Dirsko, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I...need to make a quick call." With that, he turns away and proceeds to his private chamber within the halls of Elysium.

*the little wraith tells FolcoBoffin the tragic tale of how Deoq of the Jewelled Skull has violated the Traditions of Elysium by using magic to befuddle and rob Messenger Bailey*

*the little wraith tells FolcoBoffin the tragic tale of how Deoq of the Jewelled Skull has violated the Traditions of Elysium by using magic to befuddle and rob Messenger Bailey*

*The Prime Minister's jaw hang loosely for a minute before Folco Bofiin stands up and says*

"This is an outrage! I will remedy this situation immediately."

He sends a message to some of his guards who prompty use the advantage of Deoq's trip to Greece to get back Messenger Bailey's hat and then use the advantage that Porovia's ISP is acting up to replace the correct hat on messenger Bailey's without having to makes excuses and reparation.

Then the Prime Minister sends a rather large "little reward"/"bribe money" to Druthulhu for his observations and for keeping it low key.

Gregor looks at the Grand Commander of Rippoli and the Lord Protector of Druthulhu.

"Strange fellow, that Grand Tsar. Wouldn't you agree?"

*the little messenger wraith flits off happy to have been of service ... and to have resolved a little bit of that which keeps her bound to this world and prevents her from being free to roam the realms of the dead*

Indeed, but are not all monarchs unique?

Entering his private chambers, the Grand Tsar heads straight for the closet and throws open the doors. His servants have filled it with attire diverse enough for a wide array of social events. Wishing to remain formal, Dirsko Anisimov chooses a new suit to wear in a traditional style of his native land.

"You may wish to use these to prevent any further embarassments" says a voice behind him.

Turning, Dirsko notices some cloth strips draped across the back of a chair in his room. "This changes nothing," he says. The Grand Tsar continues to change clothes, pauses, and grabs the strips to wrap around his waist as a sort of bandage.

Cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes, the Grand Tsar steps outside his room and heads back to the gathering of leaders...

Ripplepoint follows the God-King's lingering gaze upon the departure of the Grand Tsar. He nods in agreement with both Amsmadi and Druthulhu.

"Yes. I dare say correct on both points, my friends. Curious that he would attend Elysium with an open wound, if that is the case. The scent of the vitae might have triggered one of our less well-centered individuals..." Rip gives a dismissive shrug of the shoulders before proceeding.

"Going back to the issue of the temporal disturbance, I would profess my own concern at its possible connotations, in light of the recent information. Perhaps you are right, Druthulhu, but I fear I must side with Asmadi. I believe there -are- strange workings afoot. Perhaps we three should work together to investigate, starting with the strange automaton?"

The Grand Commander stays any possible reply with a hand gesture, motioning to a returning Grand Tsar.

*Prime Minister Folco Boffin, bored of being alone, approaches the quatuor of Ripplepoint, Druthulhu, God-King Asmadi and the Grand Tzar. Upon his arrival, he shakes hands with everyone. Afterwards, the Grand Tzar finds this note in his hands:

"Grand Tzar,

it has come to my attention that you are wounded. I just wanted to tell you that there's a medecine cabinet downstairs that's open for you. If you want we can send for your private doctor.
I wouldn't want something terrible like the death of a head of state to happen in the Elysium as it would reflect poorly in me as a host.
Rest assure of my utmost discretion in this matter
Folco Boffin"

He then turns to the others and asks
"So, what happened while I was gone?"

Elysium?

Must send agents...


Traditional Elysium bars Infernalists and Baalites. Is this the case?

To all:

A proposal for a UN Resolution has been drawn up that will allow Vampires to move unrestricted across national borders. I encourge you all to support it.

The android...or cyborg, if perhaps he is that... does seem out of place here, but he, or it if you prefer, has yet to violate the Traditions of Elysium, as has the changeling.

*sips*

But as to investigation, let us start here: do you recall how you came to be in this world?

*catches FolcoBoffin's eye and becons him over to join in the conversation*

Dirsko quickly and inconspicously scans the content of the message handed to him by Folco Boffin. Deciding it best to remain quiet on the issue in the presence of the other heads of state, the Grand Tsar proceeds to have a servant of the Prime Minister refill his goblet. Leaning in, he whispers a message to the servant to be given in private to Folco Boffin. With that, he returns to the conversation in progress.

*ooc: Someone correct me if I am wrong but Baali, I believe, are traditionally not welcome at Elysium. However, a Baali who desires to enter Elysium could probably attempt to pass as something other than what he truly is...*

*Prime Minister Folco Boffin is sipping from his drink when one of his guards approaches him. After a brief discussion, the guard quickly move towards the door.*

"Sorry about that gentlemen, but it seems there's this shady character at the door by the name of Baali. As you are surely aware, Elysium rules forbid infernalists so I have a little dilemma: Is he really a hated Baali or did he just choose poorly his name? I don't want to exclude anything but he isn't even a member of our great region... I dispatched diplomats to find out more.

So have you heard about the latest Requiem craze. Myself I find it amusing, seeing people playing at being vampires."

The God-King turns his attention to his host at this gathering.

"Requiem? Requiem? Hm ... doesn't seem to ring any bells. If there was something like this, you would think there'd be more chatter about it."

Gregor shrugs.

"As to your Baali dilemma, I can see where you would be having problems. We could always allow him to enter on a trial basis. We could keep him under close watch, and if he violates any of our rules and regulations we can dispose of him quietly."

Tarenteor chuckles to himself, approaching the elysium as he shuffles his black leather trenchcoat. To those who don't know him, he's a psychopath. To those who DO know him, he's a demonic psychopath who likes to eat his opposition. The majority of the time, he looks just like a normal person, with neon green hair.

OOC: Do you have any gaurds? Or maybe double doors? I need to know if I'm going to blatantly crash your party.

OOC: Whatever, you have no gaurds and double-doors straight into the party.
Tarenteor walks straight up to the doors and pushes them open. Smiling wilding at the vampires around him, he yells, "So, leeches, I hear you have a nice party here. You mind me getting comfy?"

*arches an eyebrow*

May we see your invitation?

Taren looks at Druthulhu boredly, "Maybe. It came attached to a dead body though, and I didn't want to have to drag him around."

OOC: Whatever, you have no gaurds and double-doors straight into the party.
Tarenteor walks straight up to the doors and pushes them open. Smiling wilding at the vampires around him, he yells, "So, leeches, I hear you have a nice party here. You mind me getting comfy?"
Prime Minister Folco Boffin accompanied by three guards goes to Jangle Jangle Ridge.
"Sir, this is a private party. You may have ignored the guards at the entrance and smooth-talked your way inside but your presence is not welcomed. I kindly ask you to leave unless you have a statement to deliver to the assembled community."

With that, the three guards put their hands to their gun ready for any kind of hostile rection.

"And tell the others curious outside that, unless they have buisness with the Vampire Forumite Region, they should stop trying to enter."

OOC: This thread is for all the nations of vampire forumites so we can discuss, share and goof off. It can be used for alliance, back-stabbing, small talk and OOC banter. Welcome one and all who have have buisness to conduct with a member of our region. Yes, we are elitist snobs who hang around one another and look down on others.

*gazes sternly at the upstart, his mystical gaze revealing the patterns and colours of his aura, the core of his nature, even his very fate and karma*

Was it addressed to you?

*gazes sternly at the upstart, his mystical gaze revealing the patterns and colours of his aura, the core of his nature, even his very fate and karma*

Was it addressed to you?
Tarenteor blatantly ignores the gaurds and Coffin and looks at Druthulhu, "Actually, yes. Though someone decided they'd rather not have me get it, and hid it behind the man's eyepatch and then filled the socket with lead. And then he killed the man. I found him while I was riding around, figured I would pick him up. Some of my men managed to get the letter out, but then it disentagrated. Well, I came to chat and annoy you. It's more fun that way."

Tarenteor blatantly ignores the gaurds and Coffin and looks at Druthulhu, "Actually, yes. Though someone decided they'd rather not have me get it, and hid it behind the man's eyepatch and then filled the socket with lead. And then he killed the man. I found him while I was riding around, figured I would pick him up. Some of my men managed to get the letter out, but then it disentagrated. Well, I came to chat and annoy you. It's more fun that way."

OOC: First of all, it's Boffin, with a B. If you want to mention someone, get his name right.

"You, sir, are lying. I know because I am the one who sent the invitations. Now kindly leave our presence or feels what it's like to eat your meals through a straw."

OOC: First of all, it's Boffin, with a B. If you want to mention someone, get his name right.

"You, sir, are lying. I know because I am the one who sent the invitations. Now kindly leave our presence or feels what it's like to eat your meals through a straw."
OOC: Ooops. I thought it was Folbo Coffin, not Folco Boffin. >.< Hehe.
IC: "Well then, tell me why I found a dead body with an invitation HERE with my name on it, and congradulating my secretary for winning the lottery. Unless you sent it. Or someone else did, who wanted me here. So I'll wait here until the person who wanted me here COMES. Understand?" If Folco was looking close enough, he would notice a slight red mistiness beggining to appear in Taren's eyes, as though specks of blood.

Dirsko remains standing near the God-King and Grand Commander, sipping from his goblet with mild amusement at the disturbance.

Leaning in to speak with them, he says "Have not seen an individual with such a strong death wish before....antagonizing a room of elders is hardly a wise decision. But onto a topic of actual importance...the Jade Emperor has been quite active with his armed forces of late."

Unless you can show us this alleged invitation, you are strongly advised to leave before you are removed in pieces.

*notes, without a shift of his eyes or demeanour, a nearby chair, its wooden legs easily able to be broken off into sharp pointed sticks*

"I've told you WHY I have no invitation, and why I am here, and why I haven't left. I wouldn't want to have to fight all of you old leeches. I would be a waste of good food. Now I'm going to stay here, even if you, or your gaurds," said Taren, gesturing to the gaurds as three small throwing knives appear in his hand, likely from his sleeve, though he does nothing with them, "Want me to leave. Understood?"

"Well, if you think that your little toys impress me, you are sadly mistaken..." Folco Boffin tells to the intruder, "you see, there's plenty of guards to go around if you dispatch those three. Also, weapons are strictly forbidden here so whatever buisness you had to conduct will have to wait for another time, i'm afraid."

With that, Folco snaps his fingers and the three guard bring out their clubs and advance towards Tarenteor of the land of Jangle Jangle Ridge.

"Oh, those aren't the scary weapons," Taren let the knives fall to the ground, as his nails lengthened and thickened into fierce claws and he gnashed a mouthful of 3 inch-long teeth, his eyes now a full blood red, "These are, Leech."

Asmadi turns when addressed by Grand Tsar Dirsko. "Yes, I had noticed our neighbor the Jade Emperor has been busy of late. As long as he stays away from our border, we are content to let him annex territory. It shall be interesting to see him attempt to govern such a large area, with quite the diverse population."

The God-King turns his attention briefly back to the intruder. He withdraws his cellphone and pushes a button.

"Hello, sire," the voice on the other end answers.

"Old friend, I have a few requests."

"Of course, sire," the Archbishop responds.

"First, I suggest we send more intelligence gatherers to keep watch on the Jade Emperor. He's grown quite active lately. Second, please dispatch telegrams to our allied nations alerting them that we got some local color happening and that a grand entrance would not go amiss."

"Certainly, sire. I shall also have a unit of our own military depart at once. You may have been correct upon your arrival, you have been underprotected for too long."

The God-King terminates the call, and returns to watching the scene before him with the Grand Tsar.

He mutters at his fellow head-of-state, "Just in case, I have my Ignore goggles handy."

"Mr. Jingle Jangle, His Most Holy Emperor Poor wishes it to be brought to your attention that not only did you not receive an invitation into this oh-so-hallowed Elysium, but you have violated the peaceful ambience we had going on. Therefore, we un-humbly suggest you bugger the fuck off before the First Royal Battalion of Porovia's armed forces decides to take turns violating your ear canals and eye sockets with their multitude of weapons. And their rifles, as well."

At that, Messenger Bailey bites his thumb in Jingle Jangle's direction.

Dirsko nods in agreement with the God-King's last statement. At that moment, a faint chiming sound is heard coming from his suit pocket. Dirsko hands his goblet to a nearby servant, one who is transfixed by events near the door.

"A refill for my glass, if you don't mind" The servant manages to take his gaze off the intruder long enough to hear the Grand Tsar's request. He scurries off to obey while Dirsko reaches into his pocket to retrieve his pager. Taking a moment to check the new message, the Grand Tsar smiles.

"The latest UN report states the Fiefdom of Dementate has broken the top 10 in our region for largest manufacturing sector. A considerable accomplishment for not being recognized as either a consumerist or 'father knows best' state."

Dirsko puts the pager back into his pocket, in time to take his freshly refilled glass from the returning servant.

With the spotlight focused on an abrasive party-crasher, none of the members in discussion notice a sudden absence of the Grand Commander of Rippoli. A quick scan of the room reveals he no longer stands anywhere within the confines of the Elysium hall...

((OOC: Apologies for my unfortunate downtime. I'm hopeful to participate more in the very near future. For now, I'll simply use it as means to an end for ongoing events.))

*tips his head towards Dirsko casually, speakings softly*

Just what are the Grand Olde Sect's laws concerning violence directed at gatecrashers and attackers in Elysium, my friend?

*slips an invitation to words for the Heirophant Jahred to a passing servent*

The First Hurt rises slowly to his feet, sighing. "I'd hoped it wouldn't have to come to this."

The small scar on his forehead opens, revealing a glowing eye. The eye flares to noonday intensities, burning outward to engulf Tarenteor and the area around him with radiant light (Imagine RotK, when Gandalf drives off the Nazgul).

Some of the gathered vampires turn from the light in horror, while some fall to their knees or bow their heads. Yet others weep openly for their humanity lost. Tarenteor lets out one anguished wail, filled with sorrow and remorse.

Pilate collapses, blood streaming from mutiple lacerations all over his body. It takes him several seconds to rise.

"It is done."

((OOC: You've been given a soul and Humanity 10. This effect cannot be dodged or resisted. Congratulations, you're a saint! This is your last chance to exit this thread in good graces. I suggest you take it.

Yes, Pilate is a Salubri, my fellow forumites. He's also ridiculously powerful with Obeah and Fortitude. No, he won't exercise his powers against thread regulars. Only gatecrashers.))

Prime Minister Folco Boffin looks at the ensuing cacophony and then steps towards Pilates.

"First thing first, you souldn't do that in Elysium.
Second, you have killed my inept guards and I don't like that.
Third, you seem wounded, we have an infirmary dowstairs and we can send for your personnal physician if you want to.
Fourth, well done."

And with those words, Folco gently lays a hand on the shoulder of Pilates before going back to the conversation near God-king Asmadi chambers.

"So, hum, where's Rippoli? Don't tell me he was scared of an anarch."

The God-King turns to the Prime Minister. "I had not realized the Grand Commander had left. Perhaps he had some precognitive inkling of what the First Hurt was going to do? I rather wish I had one, as this headache is not pleasant."

Gregor reaches into a pocket in his jacket and withdraws a small bottle of Advil. He removes a tablet and swallows it.

"And congratulations to you, Grand Tsar. As you continue to build up that sector of your economy, perhaps you would be interested in a trade agreement with us?"

Leaving Dirsko for a moment to ponder the offer, he turns to Druthulhu.

"As to your query, Lord Protector, it is the responsibility of either the Keeper of Elysium or the Sherriff to remove unwanted guests from Elysium grounds. I do not know who holds either position in this case."

Leaving Dirsko for a moment to ponder the offer, he turns to Druthulhu.

"As to your query, Lord Protector, it is the responsibility of either the Keeper of Elysium or the Sherriff to remove unwanted guests from Elysium grounds. I do not know who holds either position in this case."

"If I may interject, God-King..." interjects Folco Boffin "It seems that I have been appointed the Keeper as most head of state asked me how to deal with those guests. However the position of Sherrif is indeed up for grabs. Maybe we should hold elections. Or better yet, let the harpies decide."

The darkness grumbles. Something way too holy just went on, and made it have a bad dream.

Meanwhile, Messenger Bailey gives a startled cry and hides behind from the light behind Praetorian Grania, who keeps one hand on her weapon.

"Qui? You're going to intervene? That's something Ravelyn would do..."
"Meh, simply a tag then out to pick up another."
"You never change do you?"
"No..i really don't, do I?"

>>"First thing first, you souldn't do that in Elysium.
Second, you have killed my inept guards and I don't like that.
Third, you seem wounded, we have an infirmary dowstairs and we can send for your personnal physician if you want to.
Fourth, well done."<<


"I am sorry, Prime Minister. I had hoped to avoid violence; the death of your guards was an accident. Perhaps we can discuss a means to repay my violation of your hallowed ground? But later, I am hungry and would feed."

With that, he moves slowly towards the refreshments, struggling to keep himself from devouring the serving girl.

Gregor waits for the First Hurt to finish his conversation with Prime Minister FolcoBoffin before replying.

"Of course, Prime Minister, I had thought you were Keeper, but did not want to speak for you. I would not wish to be a wulide shagua. As for the position of Sherriff, I do like your suggestion of an election. I'd say leave it to the Harpies, but I haven't seen any around lately."

The God-King finally finishes his glass of bloodwyne and begins looking for a waiter for a refill.

((OOC: I have been having many problems with the forums here lately, mostly that I couldn't post new topics or reply to old ones. For some reason it seems to be working momentarily. So I shall politely bow out since 99% of the time the forums here aren't working for me. I would like to say that I had fun and that this was cool. Thank you.

See you all at White Wolf.

Horatio888
Grand Inquisitor))

[[OOC:

Alas poor Horatio. I knew him, Yorik.

*sniffles*

Don't go! :( It will get better!

The flash of light gone, the Grand Tsar lowers his arms he used to shield his eyes. Taking several seconds to adjust, he notices the First Hurt wounded and in search of sustenance. He also sees the Grand Commander has vanished. Without much time to ponder these new developments, the God-King speaks to him of a trade agreement...

"I am always open to such a possibility. My latest reports have indicated both our nations have a strong automobile manufacturing industry. Dementate prides itself on environmentally friendly policies, and our vehicles reflect the governments position. We also have numerous book publishing businesses you may find useful, as well as a healthy cheese exporting sector. I must add that kine who add our cheeses to their daily dietary regimen our quite the treat."

Dirsko smiles and continues, "Dementate is interested in your arms manufacturing sector...unfortunately national law forbids gambling establishments in the Fiefdom of Dementate, so I don't believe there is much business to discuss between us on that issue."

Seeing that the God-King has finished his drink, Dirsko turns to Folco. "I would have no problem with an election for the position of sheriff if that is how the Keeper of Elysium *slightly nods towards Folco* wishes to decide the matter."

Gregor looks thoughtfully at Dirsko.

"Hm, cheese for arms... I'm not sure we need that much cheese. However, I shall consider it, and discuss it with my finance ministers and let you know."

The God-King exchanges his empty glass for a full one from a passing waiter, and takes a sip of the bloodwyne.

Feeling bored, The SOI-bot decides to leave the chamber he had retreated to and return to the company of his fellow leaders. He walks down the hallway and into the main room of the Elysium.

The SOI-bot takes careful note of who has left in his absence. He senses an undercurrent of unease and tension amongst those in the room. He makes his way over to Lord Protector Druthulhu, staying as far away from God-King Asmadi as possible.

"Ah, Lord Protector, have I missed anything?"

*smiles and nods*

That green haired lad standing stoned over there was apparently intent on "party crashing", having naught but the story of an alleged invitation to himself that no records existed of the sending of. On response to our repeated demands that he produce said invitation or leave he assumed a threatening posture, at which the First Hurt of the Republic of Wounded Martyrs forcibly clensed his soul, or so we are told. We now await him to recover from his trauma and decide his next course of action.

"Durned it! I miss all the fun," The SOI-bot says dejectedly.

His Dread Excellency examines the interloper from a distance.

"It seems the First Hurt of the Republic of Wounded Martyrs did quite the job on him. Perhaps I should have a word with him, get on his good side, before he gets it into his head to do such a thing to me."

>>"First thing first, you souldn't do that in Elysium.
Second, you have killed my inept guards and I don't like that.
Third, you seem wounded, we have an infirmary dowstairs and we can send for your personnal physician if you want to.
Fourth, well done."<<


"I am sorry, Prime Minister. I had hoped to avoid violence; the death of your guards was an accident. Perhaps we can discuss a means to repay my violation of your hallowed ground? But later, I am hungry and would feed."

With that, he moves slowly towards the refreshments, struggling to keep himself from devouring the serving girl.

"That's quite alright, really. They were going to die anyway. All is forgiven."

With those words, FolcoBoffin turns his attention to the talk of election. After a while, he waves at Messenger Bailey.

"Messenger, would you be so kind as to inquire as the point of view of Mr. Poor on the election proposition? I'd like to have his esteemed opinion on the matter."

He then grabs an attendant and tells him:

"Go get Hierophant Jahred from the Mithras empire. He should have a chance to give his opinion too."

After a trip to His Most Holy Emperor's chambers, Messenger Bailey returns.

"His Most Holy Emperor Poor believes that the election of a Sheriff is an excellent idea. While it pains him to say it, Elysium could use someone to police outsiders."

A nondescript man steps from among the various mortal servents and sundry, something about him so nondescript as to be hard to even remember much less have spotted him lurking there, and he speaks to the assembled dignitories with a low soft voice.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I am a professional monster slayer. My self and my armies of shirt ninjas are available for a price for any security services that you might require. I have been listening to the discussion regarding the security needs of Elysium, and I offer my services as an interim remedy until such time as a suitable political process can be decided upon and implimented. With the Prime Minister's permission, I propose that the nearby platoon of our shirt ninjas move to occupy these halls with authority to use force to protect their sanctity. Of course, they will submit to whatever scans and mental probes his Excellency the Prime Minister deems fitting."

With that he receives the double espresso latte that he has requested from a servent.

A passing servant takes a quick moment to whisper a message to Folco Boffin from the Grand Tsar of Dementate...

(ooc: the "message" has been telegramed to you for the sake of secrecy...)

Prime Minister Folco Boffin takes the message, reads it and then turns to the newly arrived mercenary.

"Thank you for the offer, professionnal monster slayer, but do you have something less threatening than ninja? I'd hire professionnal secret services or a security team but ninja would be asking much from the head of states present. I, myself, feel rather uncomfortable with a trained assassin two steps behind me.

If you can come up with a better security detail than shirt ninja, you're hired."

"Mr. Prime Minister, while I am not anxious to be surrounded by ninjas, the proposal is only for a limited time. This would certainly encourage us to decide on a more permanent solution more rapidly."

The SOI-bot looks at the assembled leaders to gauge their reactions. He waits a moment before making his next suggestion.

"And to that end, I would like to nominate Mr. Poor for Sherriff."

The softspoken Mercenary King nods knowingly, then interjects...

"I fear that all of our forces are highly trained in nin'jutsu from an early age, but you may rest assured that they live and die by a strict code of honor. In anything that they vow, to perform or to desist from, they will not fail to perform it or desist from it unless by dying in the attempt. Indeed each of them would sooner die than break his word. And although I am sure that Mr. Poor's forces, like those of virtually all of the leaders here, would be up to the task, as professional monster slaying mercenaries who live and die by a strict code of honor I feel that my forces are uniquely qualified. I will not be so rude, however, as to nominate myself to the position of Sheriff..."

The King of the Lesser Evil eats a cracker spread with brie as he awaits any response to his words, sipping a glass of sherry.

*ambles casually over to the Prime Minister*

I suggest that we do soon determine a security strategy for these halls; whether interim or permenent, we must do it soon. First and formost, we must determine what to do, or whom it will be to decide what to do, with yonder gatecrasher. *nods towards the green haired and still silently weeping diabolist* I propose that we do him a mercy, if as it seems he has been restored to the soul purity of a newborn mortal: we should kill him, and send his soul heavenward.

*sips of his wyne, now half full or half empty*

I suggest that we make use of the time dialation between these halls and the outside world ... as our dear Gregor has noted in his own paranoid way, time seems to pass more slowly here. We should merely wait until just before the next day-cycle and carry him outside of the Elysium "zone", to free his newly clensed soul from his ashes.

*drains his bloodwyne glass, placing it on a passing tray and politely refusing a new cup with a charm some might see as wasted on the help*

And for my part, I nominate Pilate to be our Sheriff, provided we can keep him well supplied in willing vessels or the essence thereof. Also, I recommend keeping a body of these ninja mercenaries on retainer against the possibility of an organized afront, forsworn to whatever dire oaths we might require. The Koldun Ways I can use to bind them by more than just their own purported honour, if we so desire, and my own abilities to test their inner selves far surpass those of most Kindred.

*grins wickedly and draws the next passing serving girl into his arms, chuckling rakishly as he bares his fangs*

Of course, we are all bastards here, so we have no reason to trust my own self in such matters either.

Very well, the harpies have spoken.

*Prime Minister goes towards a stair and comes out on a balcony overseeing the floor.*

Good rulers and head of states, fellow dignitaries, esteemed guests and even weeping gate-crashers may I have your attention.

It is my great pleasure to annouce you that the country of The Lesser Evil have generously offered the service of highly trained shirted ninja to enforce the security these hallowed halls deserve. May I have a good hand of applause for The Lesser Evil

*waits for the polite applause or lack thereof*

Furthermore, in accordance with the wish of the harpies, the suggestion to hold elections to nominate a sherriff has been accepted. Here is how the elections will proceed:

1. I will take the nominations in private telegrams on the NationStates website for those who wish to enter the race. I will consider what is proposed here as politics and diversionnary tactics. The nominations proposed in Elysium will therefore not count.

2. You can nominate yourself and as many others as you want. All in one telegram or many telegrams. You can nominate a given nation only one time.

3. A nomination for yourself will count as 3 votes, all other nominations will count as one. This will incite those who want the job to step forward and give them an advantage.

4. Nomination will start right now and end Sunday at 11:59 PM.

5. Monday, I will announce the 2 top contenders.

6. Each nation will then vote for the candidate of his choice. 1 nation = 1 vote.

7. Voting will be held between Monday morning and Thursday 11:59 PM.

8. I will announce the winner friday.

This election is held under the law of East Canuck. All complaints will be decided in the tribunals of East Canuck.All local law applicables. Member of the election commitee are not eligible to vote as is their families. Void where prohibited.

"Leshi jihua, Prime Minister," the God-King excalims. "We find this solution most agreeable."

Gregor raises his mostly full glass in salute, then downs the contents in a single gulp.

"We shall make our nomination known to you shortly."

The God-King walks over to the Mercenary King. "Greetings to you! I do not believe we have met. I am Gregor Asmadi the First, God-King of the Holy Empire of Asmadonia. That was a most generous offer you made. I look forward to forging an amicable relationship between our two nations."

*reiterates his nomination of Pilate of the Wounded Martyrs, asks the servents to please send him notice when Heirophant Jahred shows up, and withdraws to examine, aura probe, and forswear the shirt ninjas, binding them on their lives and honours that while in Elyium they will act in all ways as unbiased agents of the Ideal of Elysium, and use no force unless to protect her Traditions or her invited tradition-abiding members and their entourages, including eachother, and hold in the strictest confidence any overheard conversations of any political or personal nature, and leave if directed to upon decommission; he personally executes three shirt ninjas, outside of the gates, after confirming by an effort of will that they are dishonourable persons with low regard for their oaths, and sends ten more home after finding deep seated hypnotic implants that he does not bother to examine further*

[ ooc: I made that up >;D LE are there any ghouls, cyborgs, et al? ]

[ ooc to all: Druthulhu "scans" all he meets with Auspex 6 - Karmic Sight : Perception + Empathy vs. Willpower, one success = full benefits of Auspex 2 - Aura Perception, will always take an dice pool size based autosuccess if possible unless stated ic that it is a "probe" as opp. to a "scan"; note that GttC does not include a "second try failure = botch" rule as V:tM rev. does for Aura Perception; also look for text indicating w.p. expenditure for an autosuccess. ]

*two members of the Gonite inquisition enter the Elysium and go towards Prime Minister Folco Boffin. After having saluted him, the proceed to put a notice on the chamber designed for the Theocracy of The Gonite Inquisition.
The notice reads:*

"From the Office of External Affairs, the Gonite Inquisition

Due to internal problems, particulary with the terrorist RadioFreeGone who have disrupted our communication lines and interrupted our schedules of burnination, the Gonite Inquisition has requested foreign aid in quelling these situations. We have agreed to become a part of the Commonwealth of East Canuck, seeing strength in its size and unity.

As of 5 p.m. Pacific time, the Gonite Inquisition is no more. All soldiers are now part of the East Canuck military, all Inquisitors have been released from office, and burnination schedules have been halted until further notice.

We shall play the Gonite National Anthem one last time and say farewell to our beloved nation of crazed religious fanatics.

"Hail Gone!
Love Him or burn for it!"

There is only Gone, and He is our shield and protector. Amen.

Horatio888
Grand Inquisitor
Head of the Office of External Affairs
Member, Gonite Inquisition Inner Council
Head of the Department of Redudancy Deparment Head
Slayer of the Twinked One
Wielder of the Spoon of Azy the Malkavian Spoon Vendor

Childe of Maxus Darte
Childe of Mr. Gone
Childe of Malkav"

*and then leaves without saying another word. Those looking towards the Prime Minister can see a badly concealed grin of satisfaction.*

The God-King strolls over to Prime Minister FolcoBoffin after reading the notice.

"Well played, Prime Minister. I must say I am hardly bereft that the Gonite Inquisition is essentially no more. I was growing tired of their constant assassination attempts. You'd think the Arizonan Dancing Pooka were their national animal or something they way Horatio carried on about it. But I digress."

Gregor stops another waiter and orders another glass of bloodwyne.

"Now as to the election of a Sherriff, I would like to make my feelings known on the subject. As much as I respect Emperor Poor, I cannot in good conscience agree with that chunren haiziban diedie bu xiu guantou jinshuguan, The SOI-bot. Therefore, I would suggest either Lord Protector Druthulhu or the Grand Commander of Rippoli. I would normally consider the Hierophant of Mithras for the position, but he has not been seen around here for some time. And don't think I haven't formed some opinions as to why that is!"

The waiter returns with a full glass of bloodwyne, which Gregor accepts and begins to sip.

The Grand Tsar wanders near the recently posted notice, glances at it and his eyes widen. Quickly walking to a vacant corner of the room, he pulls his cell phone from his suit and makes a call...

"This is the Grand Tsar...no I will not hold....yes, it is time to immediately halt all pro-RadioFreeGone publications, flyers, and like forms of printed propaganda...see that it is done, and furthermore cease the smuggling of such material as the Gonite Inquisition has been annexed. Without our assistance for their recruitment efforts, the Commonwealth of East Canuck should be able to easily crush RadioFreeGone." Dirsko pauses, listening. "Excellent. I must go now". Dirsko terminates the call and returns to discussing the position of sherriff with the other leaders, keeping a cautious eye on Druthulhu (if his gaze lingers too long on the Grand Tsar).

(ooc: Hopes he hasn't been 'scanned' by the Lord Protector!)

(all of our elite corps shirt ninjas are revenents in their physical primes fitted with minor - 1 or 2 dots - cybernetic enhancements and kevlar)

Bob Bobson ambassador to the United Socialist States of Meat is Murder strolls into Elysium jovialy to try and get some of the other nations to follow the enviromental protecting legislation his own country follows to protect the region from enviromental decline. He looks around for other representatives with which to converse on the topic.

Dirsko Anisimov notices the ambassador from the United Socialist States of Meat is Murder enter Elysium. He is well aware of the nations strong environmental policies. Taking a brief second to scan his aura, the Grand Tsar approaches Bob and offers a hand to shake.

"Greetings Ambassador, allow myself to be the first to welcome you to the halls of Elysium. I'm sure our host, the Prime Minister, will be around shortly to offer his greetings as well. He most likely is quite busy for at this moment, we are currently voting on the position of Sherriff. Be sure to cast your vote."

Dirsko pauses and notices the green haired crasher still standing near the doorway, weeping for his sins and praying forgiveness. An annoyed look crosses the Grand Tsar's face...

"Perhaps these shirt ninjas could DO something about this nuisance and make themselves useful. I find it hard to concentrate with all his blubbering in the background."

The Mercenary King snaps his fingers and points at the former diablerist and then to the door, and two Elysium Protection Devision Shirt Ninjas pick him up and carry him to the doorway, stoically baring the pain as his flesh starts to burn and leaving him to the tender mercies of the daylight as per Lord Protector Druthulhu's suggestion.

"I humbly offer my services as your Sheriff."

Prime Minister Folco Boffin excuses himself from the conversation he was having and moves towards the Mercenary King and remind him that to make proposals for the new sherriff, you have to send a telegram in the Nation State site as per article 1 of the rules. He then faces Ambassador Bob Bobson.

"Greetings Ambassador, I am your host, Folco Boffin. You will find that there's a empty chamber to the right for your convenience. Also, if you need a reminder, there's a copy of the rules near the entrance. The chef has prepared a buffet and if you have any special culinary needs, just ask him what you desire. Please enjoy your stay."

He then sips from his drink while the Ambassador digest this information. After a while Folco adds

"Later tonight, if you don't mind, I'd be interrested to discuss your environmental policies as I want cleaner air over the cities of East Canuck. I feel we could come to an arrangement."

God-King Gregor Asmadi the First follows the other national leaders to greet the new arrival.

"Ah, Ambassador Bob, Son of Bob, greetings to you. I hope you enjoy your time here in Elysium."

Gregor takes another sip of his bloodwyne before continuing.

"Now, this environment that you speak of. Is that the thing that keeps getting in the way of my nation's corporations and their quest for ever more embarrasingly large stacks of money?" The God-King smiles indicating he is merely joking, for the most part.

God-King Gregor Asmadi the First follows the other national leaders to greet the new arrival.

"Ah, Ambassador Bob, Son of Bob, greetings to you. I hope you enjoy your time here in Elysium."

Gregor takes another sip of his bloodwyne before continuing.

"Now, this environment that you speak of. Is that the thing that keeps getting in the way of my nation's corporations and their quest for ever more embarrasingly large stacks of money?" The God-King smiles indicating he is merely joking, for the most part.

"Well it does it's best...So how are you planning to vote in todays sherrif nomination?"

The God-King favors Ambassador Bobson with a smile and replies,

"We have already made our feelings known to the Prime Minister on this point. But we have announced to all here present our endoresement of either Lord Protector Druthulhu or the Grand Commander of Rippoli, who seems to have left and has not yet returned."

Gregor takes another sip of his bloodwyne, and allows himself a few moments to savor the taste.

"And you, Ambassador? How does the United Socalist States of MeatisMurder plan to vote in this nomination process?"

The God-King favors Ambassador Bobson with a smile and replies,

"We have already made our feelings known to the Prime Minister on this point. But we have announced to all here present our endoresement of either Lord Protector Druthulhu or the Grand Commander of Rippoli, who seems to have left and has not yet returned."

Gregor takes another sip of his bloodwyne, and allows himself a few moments to savor the taste.

"And you, Ambassador? How does the United Socalist States of MeatisMurder plan to vote in this nomination process?"

"Riplo or Druthulu? Wise choices both. As for us well the decision is still being made. The parlimentary voting should finish within fifteen minutes and my own personal thoughts on the matter are not truly important."

"Riplo or Druthulu? Wise choices both. As for us well the decision is still being made. The parlimentary voting should finish within fifteen minutes and my own personal thoughts on the matter are not truly important."
Alright, sir, who are you and why do you barge in a conversation between God-King Asmadi and Ambassador Bobson? I just went through my database and it says you're not even in our Forumite region. Explain yourself!

(OOC: Maybe you posted with the wrong nation?)

The God-King is startled by an unfamiliar voice behind him. He turns to the suddenly present representative of The-Libertines.

"Huanlede muqin fozu duan wa! You shouldn't sneak up on people like that!"

Gregor takes a moment to calm his startled heart.

"Um, welcome?"

>>He sends a message to some of his guards who prompty use the advantage of Deoq's trip to Greece to get back Messenger Bailey's hat and then use the advantage that Porovia's ISP is acting up to replace the correct hat on messenger Bailey's without having to makes excuses and reparation.<<

Deoq enters back into Elysium, waving away his diminutive servants, all trying to tend to his needs at once. He proceeds towards Prime Minister F. B, bowing graciously to his host.

"Good Day Prime Minister. I believe this is yours?"

Deoq hands the PM, a small glass bauble, with the guard sent to reclaim the hat imprisoned inside.

"We found it trying to gain access to a Trod. He said something about recovering that hat, and I regret to inform you that it is an ancient treasure of our kind, too dangerous to lie in the untrained hands of a Prodigal... No offence ment my friend. I assure you that the Messenger Bailey has been duly compensated with an EXACT duplicate of the hat we.. err... liberated from him, just without the magic. He will also receive a reward for the services he has done for our kind."

Observers will notice that the Messenger Bailey is being offered fabulous riches by the Satyrs from before.

"By the way, I apologize for my absence. There was an uprising concerning the Shadow Court. Nasty. I believe they sent someone here, by way of a nightmare trod, they are dangerous places, and it would have been too risky to follow. Odd fellow, green hair... Have you seen him?"

Dirsko Anisimov mumbles to himself "An unusual number of uprisings these days...perhaps they are more than just coincidence? hmmm..."

Snapping out of his deep thoughts on the matter, he speaks to no one in particular, "When will the official election results be announced?"

"An excellent question, Grand Tsar," Gregor says. "I'm sure the Prime Minister will make an official announcement as soon as he is able."

The God-King walks over to the newly returned Deoq.

"It is good to see you. I hope things went well for you. There was some brief excitement, but things have returned to normal. Try to behave yourself this time around, yes?" The God-King smiles.

"well, master Deoq, how nice of you to give me back my guards. I expect they have not been harmed more than being time stopped and put in a glass ball?"

*As Prime Minister utters these words, a small boy with pointed ears comes in the Elysium. After spotting Folco Boffin, he steps towards him and hand him a sealed envelope.*

"Thank you, Pippin, you may go" utters Folco. He then rips open the envelope while the hobbit Pippin goes away.

"Gentlemen, I have the results of the nomination process. Due to a statistical tie, we will have three candidates for the post of Sherriff. These candidates are:

His Most Holy Emperor, Mr. Poor
The Mercenary King of Lesser Evil
The First Hurt Pilates of Wounded Martyrs

The voting is starting now and will close Thursday, 11:59 PM, standard eastern time (Montreal time). The winner will be announced on friday. May the most devious win."

with the announcment made, he returns his attention to the glass bauble with his guards imprisoned within.

The God-King politely applauds as the nominations are read.

"Congratulations to you all. We shall deliberate and soon decide whom to support. Best of luck to you all."

As the God-King finishes his little speech, his cellphone rings. Gregor finishes his glass of bloodwyne before answering.

"Yes?"

"Sire," Archbishop F.B. Fax says, "I just wished to let you know that the colonies have been established."

"Excellent! What colonies?"

"Did I forget to tell you about this plan?"

"Apparently so, old friend."

"Oh. In that case, nevermind. I will brief you at another time. Go back to enjoying the party."

"Very well then," the God-King says just before he terminates the call. He looks around for another waiter, and grabs yet another glass of bloodwyne.

He lifts it up in a self-toast and whispers, "Cheers. We have colonies." He then drinks half the glass in a gulp. "I wonder what else is going on in my nation without my knowledge," Gregor mutters quietly to himself.

Deoq snorts at the request that he behaves himself.

"Excuse me?! I believe I am conducting myself perfectly well. I have reclaimed an ancient, powerful, and in the wrong hands, potentially dangerous treasure of OUR kind, I have granted it's former owner an exact copy, and have gifted him with rewards. Now, pray tell, where is the flaw in that? No really I'm interested. I'm not stupid, I try to learn from my mistakes, so please, point out my error to me."

The air around him becomes chillier, and his eyes glow with a bluish light. His bluish-grey hair waves, as if in the wind and he appears to tower over the God King

(OOC: Sidhe birthright- Awe and Beauty:
+ 2 appearance dots at character creation, these can go over five, but not above 7

The fury of a Sidhe scorned is a majestic and terrifying sight. When one is imassioned, all of her Social rolls are at a -2 difficulty. Anyone who tries to attack an angry Sidhe head-on must make a willpower roll; the difficulty ranges from 6, for the average sidhe, to 8 or 9, for one of a high station.

These abilities only affect other kithain, and the enchanted, unless the Sidhe calls upon the Wyrd.

Sorry guys, I enchanted the bloodwyne. Sorry to be a pain, just role-playing. They don't call them the Wyld Ones for nothing.)

Alright, sir, who are you and why do you barge in a conversation between God-King Asmadi and Ambassador Bobson? I just went through my database and it says you're not even in our Forumite region. Explain yourself!

(OOC: Maybe you posted with the wrong nation?)


((Gah! Dang it...Yes wrong nation :mad: ))

Standing near the God-King, Dirsko blinks his eyes as Deoq suddenly becomes more...impressive.

Deciding to hold his tongue on the unpleasant comment he was about to say to the changeling, The Grand Tsar instead looks to Folco Boffin who is busy examing a small bauble in his hands. "Perhaps it is not the best time for me to bring this matter up, what with an election in progress...but do you feel that there are other positions in addition to sherriff that we should consider? Maybe a Regional Minister of Non-Kindred Affairs or something of that sort, for example. Then I and my fellow Cainites could avoid such annoyances as dealing with...well..." The Grand Tsar chuckles "you see where I am going."

Prime Minister Folco Boffin looks up from the baubble. Blinks twice and then answers:

"Well you bring up a good point and I feel there are more positions that could be filled, like a primogen council. However, I'd like to focus on one election at a time if you don't mind. Otherwise you'd have some people running three campaign at once and a flood of publicity all around the place. After this one, we'll see if the various harpies agree to new elections.

As for your suggestion about the...non-kindred population... I'm afraid that the Elysium is open to all rulers of Vampire Forumites nations. To stop someone from coming here would be against all that elysium stand for. No we can only catch nuisance in a breack of etiquette and expulse them on these charges or do what the Vampire Forumites are good at: flaming noob to oblivion. Preferably by telegram."

He then adds, much lower:
"Have you noticed how quickly the God-King is downing his drinks. If he continues like that, he'll be drunk in no time."

The God-King turns around to find Deoq towering over him, looking quite enraged.

He looks over to Prime Minister FolcoBoffin and mutters, "And some people claim I lose my temper too easily."

Gregor turns back to Deoq, and then takes a step backwards.

"I was merely suggesting that such open displays of supernatural power are frowned upon. Granted, pot calling the kettle black here, but if Messenger Bailey's hat was so dangerous, there must have been subtler ways to go about relieving him of it. As it is, I had no idea that the hat was anything but a spiffy little chapeau. Now of course, I, and all the other leaders in this room, know that it is much more than that."

Gregor downs the rest of his glass of bloodwyne.

"And you can't change that by gettin' all bendy." Gregor's attention starts to drift. "You got the light, from the candles to keep you, to lift you up. They shine like little angels..."

The God-King topples forward, and crashes to the floor. The glass he was holding falls with him and shatters on impact.

Gregor Asmadi the First, God-King of the Holy Empire of Asmadonia has passed out in the middle of Elysium.

-------------------------------------------
ETA: special thanks to Joss Whedon and Tim Minear, who wrote the episode of Firefly that this post is in reference and tribute to... (The Train Job)

*strolls over to Deoq of the Jewelled Skull, stepping gingerly over Gregor as he goes*

Sirrah, your reclaimation of what you claim to have once been yours has been done in a manner that violates the sanctity of these halls. It is my hope that once a new Sheriff takes his seat here you will be excised from these premises, and their honour thereby restored. In the meantime, for the lack of a proper law enforcement officer in these halls, I will be sending... agents to retrieve the item you stole*

*smiles and tips his head politely*

About to reply to the Prime Minister, the Grand Tsar is caught off guard by the sound of a hefty thud and breaking glass. Turning his head, he sees the God-King laying on the floor, passed out and with a trickle of bloodwyne drooling from his lips. The urge to assist the God-King of Asmodonia from any further embarassment is overridden by the Grand Tsar's desire to continue debating the issue at hand with the Prime Minister.

Speaking to Folco Boffin with an obvious forcefulness in his voice, "Despite our current election already in progress, I must insist it would be an excellent idea if we, as a region of course, hold another election immediately after this one concludes. It would be foolish to not address having someone in charge of non-Kindred affairs as soon as possible!"

The edge in Dirsko's voice subsides slightly as he continues, "We are all aware of the importance of keeping Elysium open, even if that includes suffering the presence of non-Kindred. But where do we draw a line? What next? Lupine elders strolling through these hallowed halls?"

{ooc: Anyone with Auspex of at least level 2 might notice Dirsko's pale aura begin to shift and swirl with red and green colors slowly becoming more dominant.}

The more perceptive of the Elder Vampires probably notice certain subtle signals passing between the shirt ninjas and a gradual strategic change in the positions of those closest to Deoq and Druthulhu.

The blood-red candles floating on chandeliers start to dim directly above Deoq. Light itself appears to be drained by his presence, only his eyes burn more fiercely, now changing to a malevolent red. The odd swirl of chaotic glamour ruffles his clothes and hair. Any water in the vicinity could also start to frost up, and flowers wilt in his presence.

"If you have a problem with the way I conduct my business, serving my court first, and Elysium second, I suggest we take this outside. I challenge you, to the duel of the Dragon's Dance. Will you accept? Or would you care to re-phrase your little statement?"

"I agree with you, my friend, we should create a primogen-like coucil with a member from the non-kindred population. But you'll have to excuse me as it seems someone is about to violate the sanctity of Elysium."

Prime Minister Folco Boffin then steps up between the enraged Deoq and Druthulhu.

"Gentlemen, let's not bicker and argue about who stole from who. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Now, Druthulhu, I believe it's Porovia's buisness if he wants to give the hat and for what compensation. As for you mighty Deoq, you should have least have the decency to hear from Porovia before taking the hat. Such blatant use of cantrip is forbidden in Elysium and, if you do not restrain yourself, I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to leave. Let's resolve this in a civilised manner. If you want to fight, do it outside of my borders."

He then motions to some servant.

"Get God-King out of here and in his chambers. Notify his ambassador outside that he passed out. Feel free to make a scene about it."

*smiles coldly, unfazed by the Changeling's theatrics, resting a reassuring hand gently upon FolcoBoffin's shoulder*

But of course if we are to duel, it will be done outside of the prisincts of Elysium, and if our host wishes, outside of his nation. Also, in keeping with the longstanding traditions of dueling, I believe that it is up to the party who has been challenged to determine the terms of combat. If you wish to challenge me, good sir, any consequent combat will be performed under my terms.

*turns to FolcoBoffin, smiling now warmly*

And should it not be determined by Messenger Bailey also whether he is to give up his hat, as well as what compensation he is to receive for it, to be determined in an unmolested psychic state?

*turns to FolcoBoffin, smiling now warmly*

And should it not be determined by Messenger Bailey also whether he is to give up his hat, as well as what compensation he is to receive for it, to be determined in an unmolested psychic state?
Of course it does. I though my earlier statement was vague enough to include that option. Ah, well, I'll have to go back to politic school it seems.

*chuckles with apparently genuine amusement, patting FolcoBoffin gently on the back in a playful manner before removing the hand that he had rested there*

"In which case I don't believe you are familiar with the Dragon's Dance. Both combatants must agree on the weapons and armor involved, and the duel is fought until one side yields. However, the duel is typically fought with close range weapons. If you agree to take part, you must swear the oath of the Dance. By the way, I don't believe the Messenger Bailey has a problem with my securing the hat, as he hasn't asked for it back in the first place. I'm not sure what you mean by unmolested, I assure you those Satyrs were real, if that is what you are suggesting. Take a look for yourself."

Deoq removes his cloak, and holds it in front of him, spread out, he then whips it into the air, and the two satyrs are now standing there, previously protected from sight by the cloak. One Satyr whispers something to the other, and they both start giggling.

"Oh, and believe me Druthulhu, duels where fought by Changelings long before prodigals and mortals ripped off the idea."

The Prime Ministers words of agreement seem to put the Grand Tsar back into a more calm state of mind. Dirsko watches the events unfold between the Changeling and the Lord Protector until he is certain that the majority in attendance are preoccupied by their challenges. Seizing the moment, he slips away as if going to his own private chamber but instead approaches the private quarters where the God-King is sleeping off his drink....

*if no guard is posted, Dirsko knocks quietly on the door first*

*chuckles disappointedly*

Changeling, when invited to Elysium, you should have done a study of the meaning of the word "Elysium". If you did not, you have lost honour through neglect of knowledge. If you did, then you have lost honour through neglect of honour. If we are to enter into a challenge of honour, it will be either on my own terms, or after you have taken appropriate measures to restore your honour.

*snorts softly with an expression of a man having encountered an offensive odour, then turns away as if to speak with FolcoBoffin, and then turns back as if in afterthought*

Return the hat, and thereby restore your honour, and I will be quite pleased to answer your challenge, or, if you offer your regrets to all assembled here, accept your apologies and withdraw my demand that the Sheriff, when he has been selected, remove you from these Hallowed Halls.

*turns to the Keeper of Elysium, his demeanour and his very aura shifting smoothly to one of genuine, if perhaps a touch patronizing, affection*

I apologize, my friend, if my reaction to this Unseelie Wildling's antics has taken umbrage with your notions of decorum. However I would remind you that upon my acceptance of your invitation and my arrival I have placed my personal safety in your hands, in the Traditions of Elysium, and in the honour of all assembled here, as have we all.

*takes a glass of bloodwyne from a passing servent*

Indeed, while I myself did a study of the Traditions of Elysium, predominantly as practiced by the Camarilla sect, I was left with many questions, as I have learned that various Princes and Keepers of Elysium have their own standards of what is and what is not allowed. Some, for example, forbid all displays of supernatural power, while others are permissive of anything short of outright physical violence.

*takes a deep inhalation of the wine, and studies its aura for any residual traces of its history and provenence*

As I indicated in my response to your invitation, I would be interested in hearing just what your standards are as Keeper of Elysium.

*hands FolcoBoffin the glass*

Also, I believe that the wine may have been tampered with, leading to our poor dear Gregor's unfortunate embarassment.

The shirt ninjas in the area of Deoq and Druthulhu ease back but remain near, ready to subdue by whatever means needed anyone who steps across the line and disrupts elysium. Meanwhile, three others, extremely well hidden for little more than mortals, shadow Dirsko as he knocks on the door of Gregor's chambers.

[ ooc: com'on, people ... I'm doing a great job :) FOUR MORE YEARS! ]

Deoq taps Dru on the shoulder, and says.

"What I find funny, is that the minute you find out that you will NOT be deciding the terms of the duel, you duck out. I say you are nothing but a coward. Now stop making exuses. If I lose the duel, I will apologize for any breaches of etiquette you wish me to. If you lose, you will admit that I am the rightful owner, and that I have harmed no one, and as such, done nothing wrong.

Oh, and one more thing, unfortunately, try as I might, I could not find the word 'Elysium' in the Oxford English Dictionary. It may be easy for you to find out about it, vampire, but the only way I could have found out is through the use of spies, which I assumed would be a breach of ettiquette anyway, and I don't know the location of any Elysiums, except for this.

If you really want to go all preachy at me about honor, I'll have you know that the Dragon's Dance is the most honourable duel in the book. It is not dishonourable to lose it, merely dishonourable to negate the terms of the duel. In fact, fulfilling the terms would gain you honor rather than losing it.
However, not accepting the challenge is dishonourable in itself."

*Takes the bloodwyne from Druthulhu. Smells it, raise it towards his mouth then changes his mind and says*

Mister Druthulhu, you are entiltled to these answers. I am very relaxed in my enforcement of the rules. For example, I will not throw out someone for violating the lesser rules like not drinking on the help or no raised voices. I will however make sure that the big rules are enforced. Therefore I will throw out those who come to physical combat, those who are caught spying, those who attempt assassination (by poisoning the drinks for example) and those who steal. Now, Deoq here has stolen something from Ambassador Bailey by your account but he says it was a legitimate business transaction and as long as we are not sure as to the legitimacy of the transaction, I will not kick him out.

*The Prime Minister then raises his glass but, at the last moment, turns toward Deoq instead of drinking*

He will however be under surveillance. Also, here is an abridged copy of the rules of Elysium. I know that changeling are not notorious for their patience so I gave you a 3 pages version of the rules. I suggest you read it carefully and consider every mention of discipline as mention of cantrip, or whatever you call you magic. That is, if you are not too busy fighting duels.

*Hands a document to Deoq. Riases his bloodwyne for the third time... the glass touche his lips... Folco then frowns*

You said someone spiked the wyne? We'll test it then.

*motions towards a ninja to approach*

(OOC: suspense music fills the air)

*chuckles derisively at Deoq's attempt at mockery*

You, sirrah, are a thief. If your quaint little fae traditions hold that one loses honour by refusing the challenge of one who is honourless, then I care for them not, nor for their thievery tolerating ways. If you desire satisfaction, return to me when you have honour.

*turns his attentions back to FolcoBoffin as the ninja stealthfully approaches*

Due in part to the high profile events that have taken place, the auspicious return of the Grand Commander of Rippoli has went unnoticed. As the missing leader struggled through a lingering disorientation, he observed the collapse of the God-King and his subsequent removal. Rip has also viewed the evolution of the duel challenge between Druthulhu & Deoq with a wary eye. Only as he begins to step forward among the Elysium members once again, does Ripplepoint take note of a nearby posted notice.

'An election for Sheriff? Nominations tallied?!' he thinks to himself as he
studies the latest announcement from Prime Minister FolcoBoffin. 'I must have been removed from the course of events for more time than I may have imagined!'

Rip scans the Elysium hall for further changes. He notes a number of what appears to be ninja scattered about the area. 'Yes, much has taken place to be accounted for...'


((OOC: I'm back. Did you miss me? *scans posts* Not much, I'd say.))

[[ wb :) ]]

((Welcome back :cool: ))

Hearing no reply to his knocking, Dirsko cautiously opens the door to the God-King's chambers. {ooc: has already used Auspex to determine the door had not been trapped}

Slowly stepping inside, Dirsko notices the God-King laid out on his bed in an...unusual...position. Apparently the servants who dragged him here had a perverse sense of humor. "At least they kept his clothes on...", mutters the Grand Tsar to himself.

Dirsko approaches an elegant table in the room, pulls a pen from his suit and finds some blank paper laying about. It takes him but a minute to quickly write a brief note, which he folds in half, then in half again. He carefully slips the note in the God-King's sleeve, so it will fall into his hand when he awakes. Leaving everything else untouched, Dirsko exits the room and locks the door behind him.

******** News Flash *********

This Just in! Prime Minister Folco Boffin owns a moderator.

See the thread (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=347580&page=1)
Have you ever liked to own a mod for a day? Well this is your chance. Currently being auctioned off are the fabulous mods of NationStates:

Scolopendra
Karmabaijan
Menelmacar

TJHairball




LET THE BIDDING BEGIN!!!!!!

Please don't just bid on one mod, so nobody feels left out.
Only bids in american dollars will be accepted.
(this thread was approved by myrth since I took out the whole "sex slave" idea and it's for only a day)

The bidding for each mod will end when I see fit. Nobody may bid on a mod already won.

Mods OWNED :D:

Cogitation: $20 million by Katganistan
Myrth: $32.11 by Kentington
Melkor Unchained: $16 million by Greenmanbry
GMC Military Arms: $0.04 by CSW
Salsua Secondus: Eleventy Billion Dollars by BLARGistania
Reploid Productions: $50 by Sdaeriji
The Most Glorious Hack: $25 by Dezzan
Sirocco: $1 billion by Petsburg
[violet]: Rhyno D (auto bidding :D)
The SLAGLands: $10 by Santa Barbara
Tactical Grace: $1,000 by Imperial Articas
Ineptia: $1,500 by East Canuck

Stephistan has decided that she doesn't want to be sold and is now out of the bidding.

When asked about it, the Prime Minister said
"That's right people. Bow before my awesomness. With the help of a mod, I'm sure to annex Hedgetopia. The Jade Emperor has better retract his threats."
then proceeded to laugh evilly for 15 minutes. More news at 6:00.

*Dirsko glances at his watch*

"Am I mistaken, or are the voting results due any minute now?"

{ooc: Welcome back, Rippoli. Yes, things have been busy while you were gone!}

After rolling his eyes at Dru, the Changeling replies.

"You may not know much of Changeling lore, well, who does? But I will give you this much for free. Each Changeling is the embodiment of something. I hope you are familiar with the redcaps? Well one example is them. They embody hunger, and will eat anything, literally. We Sidhe are the embodiment of honour and nobility, and it is ludicrous to suggest that honour itself is dishonourable. If the Messenger Bailey makes it known that he wishes me to return a hat that functions for him just as well as the replacement, and may explode with all the force of an atom bomb at any time without warning if handled improperly, AND he wishes to return the compensation. Then I will return the hat. Does that sound fair to you Druthulhu?"

Deoq turns away from Dru, leaving him to think about his decision further.

"I do admit that patience is a virtue I lack slightly, Prime Minister, and I am grateful for this rulebook. By the way, a Cantrip is an application of our magick, the magicks themselves are known as the Arts. So you vampires call your abilities 'Disciplines' then? Interesting, most interesting.

I am fine with the surveillance, by the way, I have nothing to hide."

Having remembered the Satyrs, Deoq turns to them.

"Ah yes, If you fine ladies could make yourself useful, Emhalynna, fetch me a glass of spring water, fresh from a glade back home, I'm sure one of the Boggans has some."

The one known as Emhalynna skips off happily with uncanny speed.

"Yassola, would you be so kind as to fetch Boris for me? Thank you."

Deoq turns back to the PM as she skips away.

"I have an advisor, a representative of the Sluagh kith, who is an expert on poisons of all kinds, he may be able to help. Just err... please don't mention his vocal impediment, he's very sensitive about it."

*Dirsko glances at his watch*

"Am I mistaken, or are the voting results due any minute now?"


Seven hours left...

The God-King comes stumbling out of his chamber, obviously still a tad bit (read: extremely) inebriated. As he closes the door behind him, he can be seen putting his cellphone and a piece of paper back in his pocket.

Gregor weaves his way through the crowd towards Deoq. He steps up to the ruler of the Jeweled Skull and jabs his finger into the Sidhe's chest.

"Hey, ya big Fairie! I dun no whush you put in my bloo [hic!] . . . in my bloo [hic!] . . . in my drink, but you better nah do it again. Cuz if ya do, well den I'm gonna make sure you doan live long enough to regrets it. Dong ma?"

The God-King turns away from Deoq, and begins to walk away. As he nears a chair along the wall, he spots the Grand Commander of Rippoli.

"Hey, Rippoli! Welcome back. It'sh good ta she you, ya look shwell."

Gregor seats himself, barely, in the chair and commences to hold his head in his hands until the room stops spinning.

The SOI-bot stands in a dark corner of the room, practically forgotten by his fellow leaders. Keeping one eye on the nearby ninjas, The SOI-bot continues scanning Deoq. After several minutes, the Dread Excellency receives the information he was looking for.

"Cold iron, eh?" he whispers to himself. "Very interesting."

A cold, cruel smile makes a brief appearance on The SOI-bot's otherwise impassive visage.

"Hmm, well it seems the God-King is still feeling a bit... fragile. Do the rules of Elysium permit me to use magick to heal him? Ahh... or alternatively..."

The satyr Emhalynna returns with a large earthen jug, and a glass. After filling it up, and handing it to Deoq, Deoq strolls over to the God-King, and proffers the glass to him.

"Here, drink some of this. The effects of whatever drugs were put in your drink will be concentrated, but they will wear out sooner, also. It may have a few... small side-effects, but I'm sure that's nothing to be worried about. Ah, but how foolish of me, waiter!"

Deoq clicks his fingers and motions to a nearby waiter.

"This fine gentleman could do with a drink. Pure blood, no alcohol, or anything else, and believe me, I will know if there are any other substances contained inside."

And with that, Deoq downs the glass of water, after gingerly putting the jug down on a nearby table. He starts to look slightly groggy, and mumbles,

"Mmmm... Good stuff."

Afterwards, he shakes his head vigorously to clear it, and sits down by the God-King.

The shirt ninja finally makes it over, and takes the wyne glass. After drinking from it he looks around him, and then at Deoq.

"I seem to be experiencing hallucinations. Mr. Deog appears to have grown much taller, and supernaturally impressive looking, with sparklies... sparklies... twinkling shiney sparklies... and his clothes are different... gayer looking..."

The shirt ninja sways unevenly as if drugged.

*give Deog a look of "are you actually still talking?" while he is being addressed, then turns to observe the shirt ninja's testing of the wyne*

Ahh... enchanted bloodwyne... *smirks* now who could have done such a thing? *gazes coldly at Deoq*

Sirrah, if as you say the Sidhe are the embodiment of honour, then you are indeed a poor example, and, being a thief and a poisoner, you bring dishonour to all of your people. How your demented people can consider it a dishonour to refuse a challenge from an honourless creature such as yourself, who has stained the honour of Elysium with his violations, is beyond my ability to fathom. Do you really think that I can expect a churlish creature such as yourself to abide by the terms of a challenge?

Frankly, sirrah, I do not care about the hat, although if Mr. Bailey were to state, freely and of his own will, and honestly, that he was willing to part with it when you took it, you would receive my immediate apology and I would be willing to accept any challenge you saw fit to make.

The final disposition of the hat is not my concern, knave. Your flagrent violations of the sanctity of these Halls are. You are a thief and a poisoner, and your presence here is and afront to all who hold honour as a thing to be valued. Good evening to you, sirrah.

*turns curtly and ignores any further comments from the honourless one*

[[Woah, Jesus, Bailey's hats been stolen? Sorry for my silence; I keep forgetting to check these forums and missed like 2 pages of posts.]]

Royal Guard Grania, clad in her greys and blacks, marches into Elysium, her face grim and set. She walks towards the Jeweled Skull representative.

"Sir, the rules of Elysium state there is no violence within it's walls, only a general air of peaceful hostility. And in honour of my Most Holy and Revered Emperor's bid for the position of Sheriff, I will respect those rules.

And so I give you this warning: return Messenger Bailey's foppish hat, or face Porovia's wrath. He misses his hat terribly, and cried himself to sleep in a rather comical fashion over it. A mere forgery and shiny trinkets are not enough to mend his broken heart. So listen carefully, O Noble, you will return the hat, and apologize to Porovia's citizens and to Elysium, or Porovia declares war on you and your kind. And we're a very unimaginative people."

The Grand Tsar adjusts his watch from the Dementate time zone to the current time in East Canuck.

That done, he says to Folco Boffin "So...who won the election?" Dirsko taps his foot, waiting for a response.

Gregor looks around himself once the room stops spinning, and notices that Deoq is now seated next to him.

"There is a drunken Sidhe next to me," the God-King observes aloud to all within earshot (which is most people, as he is speaking quite loudly). "Why is there a drunken Sidhe next to me? Why isn't there a drunken she next to me instead? Haaaaaaaa!"

The God-King begins to laugh hysterically at his own, rather lame, joke. After a few moments, the God-King manages to laugh himself off the chair, and falls unceremoniously to the floor.

His laughter is now punctuated with the occassional, "Ow!"

*There's some commotion heard at the entrance. One person slips past the ninjas and run inside with an sealed enveloppe in his hands. Before he has time to take 6 steps in the Elysium, he gets killed by the ninja inside. One of them picks the enveloppe, reads what is written and then goes to Folco Boffin and hands him the enveloppe.*

*Folco Boffin reads what is on the enveloppe and mutters*

"Ah, the results are compiled"

* He then rips open the enveloppe and reads it aloud*

"Voting results (sherriff position):

Wounded Martyrs 23%
Lesser Evil 31%
Porovia 46%

Winner: Emperor Poor.

Voting participation: 46% (13/28)

I would like to be the first to congratulate the Most Holy Emperor Poor on his nomination. I will do my best to help him with all ressources availlable should he need them."

*With that, Prime Minister Folco Boffin walks towards Ambassador Bailey to congratulate him.*

The God-King's glass of blood suddenly arrives, and after helping him back to his chair, Deoq adds a drop or two of water to the blood, after making sure there is nothing else in it. He hands the glass to the God-King and says,

"Here you go, now, you'll feel awful, but only for a couple of minutes, then you'll be fine. I suggest you make your way to your private quarters and lay yourself down."

Deoq strolls over to the Messenger Bailey, to congratulate his country on its position as Sherriff.

"Ah, the good Ambassador Bailey, I trust you are well. Congratulations on the position as Sherriff. I hear that you would like that hat back? That is fine, as long as you would allow us some time to transfer its powers to another vessel. Don't worry, all this will mean for you is that it's a lot less likely to melt off your head. If you had voiced your discontent sooner, we wouldn't be in this mess, now would we? All I require, is that the rewards I gave to you be returned."

At this point, the Satyr returns with a pale, astonishingly wrinkled man with no teeth and a dusty suit. He bows to Deoq, and smiles his toothless grin.

"Oh, If you'll excuse me, I have an experiment to conduct."

Deoq returns to the Prime Minister of East Canuck.

"This is my expert, Boris. He is able to identify any potion, powder, poison, or anything made by mortal or kithain hands."

Boris walks close up to the PM, and whispers,

"May I take a look at the substance in question?"

*has his attendent Groom of the Herds attempt* to revivify the recently deceased messenger, using infusions of vitae and his own powers of domination to try* to cause the still-warm body's brain to heal its broken neck as his servent struggles* to reinitialize his heart and lungs*

If our new Sheriff deigns to keep these ninja here, we really must come up with a system for them to recognize authorized messengers.

*locates Mr. Bailey and asks that his congratulations be conveyed to Mr. Poor*

I understand that it has by now come to your attention that you yourself have fallen victim to a flagrent breech of the Traditions of Elysium. I hope that your Master will soon be taking actions to clense such offenders from our presence and restore the honour of these Hallowed Halls.



* [ ooc: is a kind-hearted bastard who values his own mortal pets, but will leave the success of this attempt up to FB's discretion. ]

Ripplepoint watches the ongoings with minor bemusement, particularly the God-King's struggle with inebriation and its after-effects. He notes the continued engagement of words between Druthulhu & Deoq, but remains relatively unconcerned with what appears to be a personal contention over honour.

Following the knee-jerk slaying of the messenger, the Grand Commander leans forward in anticipation of the Prime Minister's announcement. Upon hearing the results of the election for Sheriff, his bemused look flickers to one of slight disappointment, then back into a more stoic expression. He steps forth, offering a solemn, yet respectful congratulations to the proxy Bailey before moving onward.

Rip now finds his attention drawn to the investigation of the tainted bloodwyne that so greatly affected Asmadi. He moves in closer to take better observance of the proceedings...

The Grand Tsar offers polite applause at the reading of the election results. He waits a couple minutes for his turn to congratulate Messenger Bailey.

"Well done, Sherriff. Excluding the gate crasher incident, the tainted beverages, the behavior of that...Changeling fellow, and roaming shirt ninja assassins...I must say that I feel safer already!" Dirsko smiles, makes a light joke that it must be the hat that won him the election, and then makes way so that others may offer their congratulations as well.

Declining a drink offered by a passing servant, Dirsko Anisimov stands next to Folco Boffin. He leans in and asks the Prime Minister, "How go the plans for the next round of elections that we discussed?"

High Guard Grania flanks Messenger Bailey, who makes several announcements.

"To Elysium: His Most Holy Emperor Poor thanks you all for the voting. He will endeavour to keep this place safe from all interlopers and gate-crashers.

To the Fae: Return my hat, as it was, will all it's supposed power. If you do not, it will be considered theft of a national treasure and we will take appropriate measures. You're trinkets are already being returned as we speak."

He claps, and 5 dozen Porovian Heavy Transport Rickshaws enter the chamber and begin dumping the treasures on the floor.

The God-King takes the glass of bloodwyne from Deoq. He waits until Deoq begins to walk away, and then dumps the contents into the potted plant beside him.

"I may be drunk, but I'm not stupid," Gregor mutters to himself.

The God-King mulls whether or not to go over and give his congratulations to Messenger Bailey, but decides to let the Chancellor convey his nation's good wishes. After all, Gregor muses to himself, I'm more likely to vomit on poor Messenger Bailey and that would only make matters worse.

The image of a vomit-covered Messenger Bailey rises in Gregor's mind, and he begins giggling aloud.

(OOC: Whoa! I post the results of the election and the next four posts ask me a question. I've never been so popular in my life.)

*Prime Minister, hearing questions from everywhere at once, takes a step back, stunned. After a few seconds to regain composure he points at Deoq*

"I'm sorry, but I will use my own scientist on this blood. I don't doubt the capacities of your expert, but I didn't live that long without a healthy dose of paranoia. Also, I suggest you give back Messenger Bailey's hat."

*Points at Grand Tsar*

"I haven't concluded anything yet on how to procced with the next election for a council. I'll think about it next and will give you how I see it in, say, 8 hours from now. Is that acceptable?"

*Doesn't wait for the answer before pointing to High Guard Grania*

"You should mention to the sherriff the whole messenger killing incident. It should weight in his decision about the security detail of the Elysium"

*Points to the messenger lying on the floor*

"Oh take him away from here. He's dead, nothing more can be done for him. You can sell his corpse to the Uncle Auggie Company, if you wish but I'm afraid there's not much we can do. Another messenger will have to be hired."

*Points toward a servant*

"Go to the kitchen and get rid of the current bloodwyne, it might be spiked. Go in the reserve and bring a fresh batch."

*points finally to the God-King*

"Oh, go get a glass of water! Now, if anybody needs me i'll be in my chambers. Try not to break anything."

*He then goes to his chamber, noting the answer from the Grand Tsar in his head.*

Deoq speaks to the Messenger Bailey,

"Well, it is regretful, but I will grant your request. I must warn you, however, that all it's powers will grant you, are an earlier death at the hands of radiation seeping into your skull, and the risk of a huge explosion. It would be extremely difficult, but if we would be allowed to duplicate its powers, you would still be allowed to keep those 'trinkets.' That way, you lose nothing, and gain the jewels, it's a win-win situation.