NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Since the last thread ended up with nothing but tags and OOC comments I'm starting this again. Absolutely NO tagging if you're going to post RP your character, this includes 'I'll post later' posts. Your characters will already be at the ball waiting for Lord Azazel, in DN arriving after the nations ruler is seen as a slur and is offensive. A word of warning anyone trying to arrive late will be barred entry by the guards. There will be some controlled elements especially later in the thread.

IC:

The ballroom was massive and expensively decorated with mostly marble walls and ceiling. Huge chandliers hung down from the celing and the walls were adorned with centuries old paintings from famous painters. At the far end near a lit fireplace, several seats were in place in a semi-circle where people could sit and talk. alongside one wall was a buffett with all sorts of traditional Draconian snacks.

Lord Azazel checked his suit one last time in the master bedroom of Exetergrecia palace before stepping out through the doors. He headed down the hallway and stopped just outside the ballroom doors. So far he had no idea what national leaders would be showing up.

"His Excellency Lord Azazel," he heard a womans voice yell from the other side of the doors.

'Here goes,' Lord Azazel thought as he stepped through the doors.

The ballroom was bright and there were plenty of people attending. As he walked down the ballroom he greeted those around him.


http://www.jonathan.bennett5.btinternet.co.uk/ns/azazel.jpg
Lord Azazel

Vice-Admiral Ingrid Anderstet stood in a corner, observing the assorted people carefully. She took in her surroundings as well. The opulent decor was much different than the royal residence in Callisdrun, which, being an ancient fortress, was much more plain in design. There were no palaces in Callisdrun, and although the size of the great hall in King's Keep was comparable, there was certainly nothing this extravagant.

Because she was unsure of the policy of weapons in the venue, she had left at her room the most odd but distinctive part of formal Callisdrunian attire, her ceremonial, but also quite functional, battle axe on its heavy belt. Needless to say, she looked a bit less strange, as she'd always felt that the axe looked odd when worn with a formal dress. As it was she wore an elegant dress of a deep red shade, along with black boots. She watched Lord Azazel come in, he seemed to be quite a charismatic fellow. She sipped her wine, continuing to observe the proceedings.

les bump

The Muktari representative smirks at Lord Azazel's impressive entrance. "So the life of the party is here." He then goes about looking for someone to talk to. Or something.

OOC: Sorry about the last thread. I tagged one to many and had to cut my schedule. No offense, I hope.

OOC: Same here, didnt mean to tag so many threads in one day, lol.

IC:

Elizabeth McArthy strolled around teh ball room, sipping a dark red. Her body was well proportioned, and she wore a white sequined dress that hugged her curvy frame. Dark brown hair was done up, and her face was done with minimal makeup, as very little was required.

She had been personally requested for this by First Speaker Fortier, who was still in lockdown after the assasination attempt. She noticed Azazel enter, and finished the glass in her hand, and took another, and began to walk over to him.

*tag*
j/k, couldn't help it.

IC: Orion was helping himself to the Beffet table. He was wearing a traditional toga. He, of coarse, was taller then most people there, and tanned skin with silver hair. He was equivilent to a Terran's age of 45, and still in good shape.
Hmmm.....no Elarian ale....

Ingrid noticed a man whom she was fairly certain was the representative from Muktar wandering about. She slowly, casually, made her way towards him, her waist length jet-black hair moving slightly. Though in her early to mid thirties, she had a striking appearence, although much more subtle than her colleague, Erzsebet Sorvik, who was more tattooed, younger, flaunted the fact that she was a vampire, and regularly carried both an axe and an AK. However, Ingrid was taller and much more suited for an event such as this, where looking belligerant was not such a good thing. Like her countrywoman, and almost all Callisdrunians, she was eerily pale, and had a small runic tattoo on her bare arm. She continued to make her way towards the Muktari, in a wandering sort of way.

The Muktari representative turns toward the vampiric duo. "Hello ladies." He sips some white wine. "Where might you be from?"

Richard H. Baker dressed in a fine dinner suit held two wine glasses as he made his way through the crowd. He was 37, stood at 6'1, his normally curly hair combed back, and his dark thin rimmed glasses sprakled. He walked up to a woman at 5'10 dressed in a flowing aquamarine dress and a pearl necklace, her blond hair tied back into a neat bun.
"Here you are Jess." Richard said to his wife. "What do you think?"
"Very nice Richard. Wish our house looked like this." Jess responded.
"Well, goverment jobs don't pay much."
"Same with military." Jess said. Richard smiled. He had meet Jess when he had been flying in the Air Force.
"If you don't mind dear, I'll do some wandering."
"Fine with me." Jess kissed Richard on the lips before he melted into the crowd.

The Muktari representative turns toward the vampiric duo. "Hello ladies." He sips some white wine. "Where might you be from?"

OOC: Sorry, my post was a bit unclear. Erzsebet Sorvik is not present, she's currently in a situation in the regional war. I was just noting the contrast between the two. Also, Erzsebet Sorvik is a vampire, but Ingrid isn't. Most Callisdrunians are pale and most have dark brown, red, or black hair, but less than 20% are vampires. Sorry about the confusion, I feel hella stupid now. We can just go on, and just say that your guy addressed one woman, not two, and asked where she was from if you want.

OOC: Sounds good.

Dirk Dorkley(Sorry, but i want a ridiculous name for this character.)strode into the magnificent ballroom. He had dressed formally in a long, dark coat, buttoned at the top with a large blue broach. He wore a rather ridiculous top hat and an elegant jeweled saber at his hip-cerimonial, of course.

Dirk was rather anti-social, and just stood there uncomfurtably for a moment. He then went to go find some tea-He wasn't really a drinker anyways.

Turning towards the Muktari man, Ingrid smiled warmly. "I am from Callisdrun, specifically from the capital city of Callisdrin" (OOC: yes, the difference in spelling is intentional). Her peculiar accent was quite noticable, although it did not make her hard to understand. "It is very hot here, I am used to much colder weather. Are you from Muktar?"

The Muktari nods, gently grasps Ingrid's hand, kisses the back of it, and releases. "I am Ukata Rakuka. I'm here from Muktar to make diplomatic ties with nations abroad."

Lord Eran Welsh -- lord because the title commanded more respect and because Weyrik had no word for 'lady' -- waited near the buffet. As head of Weyr's embassy in Draconis Nightcrawlis, it was her job to attend these formal gatherings.

"Did you -have- to drag me here?" Alchemist Alon Reich asked, sending a stream of half-chewed food at the ambassador in the process. As always, he was dressed in the usual uniform -- an azure greatcoat marked with the symbol of The Tower on the right shoulder.

"Yes, now finish chewing before you open your mouth," Lord Welsh responded, without any annoyance, while brushing the spittle off her suit. Dress, she corrected herself, it's a dress.

She wore an rather old kimono, stowed away for various functions, rather simple and at the same time quite elegant. Its color was like that of a sakura blossom in full bloom, and accented her features and figure without making her stand out in any particular way.

"Yes, ser," Alon nodded, swallowing. "If I have to be here all day, I might as well get my money's worth."

At least he tried. Eran sighed, looking over the other guests. Alchemists attached to the Diplomatic Service usually did something to deserve effective exile. Alon was an eccentric. In his case, it was enough.

"Look, Lord Azazel," Eran inclined her head in the Lord Azazel's direction.

Alon mumbled something, his mouth once again full, though this time he remembered to cover it before attempting to speak.

King Bender v2.0 stood diligently, puffing a cigar. He was standing amid a crowd of dignitaries, surveying the grand ball. For the first time in a while, he had left the Kingdom of Benderland. What was also an oddity was the fact that he was wearing a tuxedo. Quite an inane attempt at blending in with the crowd, but this was a special occasion. He angrily tugged at the coat that was stretched around his barrel-shaped torso. He wasn't quite enjoying this experience, until...

"Care for fine wine, sir?" a voice chimed in behind him. Bender's head did a one-eighty on its axis, and his body followed.

"Pardon?" King Bender asked.

"Would you care for some fine wine, sir?" a well-dressed butler asked. He seemed somewhat nervous in Bender's presence.

Bender looked at the man up and down, then responded, "Of course."

The butler began pouring a glass, and said, "This is a 1775 Cherry, a very exquis-"

He was abruptly interrupted as King Bender snatched the bottle out of his hand. Bender brought the bottle above his head, opened his receptacle, and turned the bottle over. He proceeded to chug the entire bottle in mere seconds. When it was empty, he shook the remaining drops out, and gave the bottle back to the butler, who stood frozen with a surprised expression.

"Marvelous!" King Bender exclaimed, and let out an uproarious belch, which was accompanied with a two-foot blue flame that was expelled from his mouth.

"Bah, betcha I can beat that," Alchemist Alon Reich commented, referring to the flame, while stuffing something long and dry down his throat.

"Do that, and I will ship you home in little boxes," Eran said pleasantly, sipping her drink. "And please remember that you represent both The Tower and the Kingdom in this country."

The damned kimono was making her feel uncomfortable. It was too revealing, and too confining to be of much use should anything happen. She very much hoped that nothing would happen.

Dirk was quite desprete; there was no tea to be found. 'Ah well,' he thought as he watched a robot chug a bottle of wine. 'How random' he thought.

Dirk was really quite bored. The life of a Ravean diplomat was not as glorious as he first thought. He always seemed to be placed the the most odd of meetings and international gatherings. At least he was getting paid. He then continued his quest for tea.

The Muktari nods, gently grasps Ingrid's hand, kisses the back of it, and releases. "I am Ukata Rakuka. I'm here from Muktar to make diplomatic ties with nations abroad."

Pleased at Ukata's good manners. "I am Ingrid Anderstet, here for the same reasons. Pleased to meet you."

Orion turned to see the 2 foot pillar of flame rise on the other size of the room. It vanished as soon as it appeared, and Orion went back to eating.

Ukata nods. "Rest assured the pleasure is mine."

OOC: *Smacks board* work dammit :evil:

IC:

Lord Azazel was irritated by the sound of a large belch, some people obviously lacked proper manners. He never noticed the two-foot flame. Of course there were those at the buffet table, 'Only here for the free food,' he thought to himself.

He looked up a woman in a white sequined dress walking towards him. He smiled at her, "Greetings," he said. "I hope you are enjoying yourself."

Richard calmly strolled through the room, sipping his wine. I have to complement the host, this year is very good. His dark brown eyes went over each person. The robot was somewhat of a surprise, but when he had flown in the GSAF and his shift to politics at the request of his father, who is a retired Congressman, he had seen a lot of cultures. Bender's belch didn't concern him so he didn't noticed the fire. He took slight notice of the pair of pale and tattooed women. He refilled his glass and continued on his way.

Jess walked over the to buffet and looked it over, her aquamarine eyes perfectly matched her dress. She picked up a small pastry. Pretty good. Jess jumped when she caught Bender's flame. He needs to learn some manners she thought.

Imperial Senator Steve rushed in. "Late as always. that pilot is going to have to be re-assigned." Steve decided to just wait by the wall and just see what was going on before entering the political fray.

OOC: Umm C4n4d4 you'd have never made it past the guards.

BUMP

Ingrid took Ukata's hand and casually strode over in the direction of Lord Azazel.

Lord Azazel was happy to see the ball going well, the guards were doing a good in keep out the possibility of trouble makers. The only problem so far was the suit that Lady Jillian had suggested he wore, it was itchy and he was sure it was not fitting correctly. As another guest came up to him he scratched the back of his neck where the collar was digging into him.

Ukata raises an eyebrow as Ingrid takes his hand. "Where are we going?"

Ingrid cast a smile back towards Ukata. "Why, to meet the host of course."

Ukata nods. "I was going to meet him earlier, but he was busy with those near his entrance. Apparently things have dispersed again." Ukata and Ingrid are now with the host. "Hello, sir."

OOC: I will be travelling during the next week, so I will probably not be posting for a while after tonight

"Hello," Lord Azazel greeted, "I trust you are enjoying yourselves."

Ukata nods. "Other than that fire-spewing fellow, everything is great." Ingrid should say something if she was the one who wanted to talk to this guy... "I am Ukata Rakuka, of Muktar, and this is..." He gestures toward Ingrid and lets her finish the sentence.

Richard was about to go meet Lord Azazel, but decided to find his wife and let him finished with the people he was talking to.

Orion desided to get away from the table, and meet some people. He noticed some people from Imitoria was here. Although they had left the APTO, they where still supposedly on good terms.

Ukata nods. "Other than that fire-spewing fellow, everything is great." Ingrid should say something if she was the one who wanted to talk to this guy... "I am Ukata Rakuka, of Muktar, and this is..." He gestures toward Ingrid and lets her finish the sentence.

"Ingrid Anderstet, of Callisdrun. This is all very nice, but should I be expecting two-foot spouts of flame to erupt out of nowhere in this nation?"

Ukata nods. "Other than that fire-spewing fellow, everything is great." Ingrid should say something if she was the one who wanted to talk to this guy... "I am Ukata Rakuka, of Muktar, and this is..." He gestures toward Ingrid and lets her finish the sentence.

"Ingrid Anderstet, of Callisdrun. This is all very nice, but should I be expecting two-foot spouts of flame to erupt out of nowhere in this nation?"

"Pleased to meet you," Lord Azazel said with a smile. "Well usually spouts of flames come from the local dragon population, but evidently someone here can't handle their drink."

(moved)

OOC: Nevermind

ooc: Diplomatic Credentials? Are you not receiving foreign delegations? If you do not want the RP, then forget it.

OOC: Nevermind

ooc:I will delete these posts, delete your post so I can delete mine and then so on as not to interrupt this.

OOC: Nevermind

Ukata chuckles lightly at the joke. "It's a pleasure to be here, milord."

(corrected)
Ashela Asoer was a woman embroiled in scandal in her own nation of Aerion, and no doubt if any background check of her were revealed this would come up. The recent fall of the military dictatorship of Aerion in a bloodless coupe, and the rise of King Wasterin X to the Throne had marked a number of very quick appointments to government positions. Ashela Asoer was one, perhaps an afterthought, appointed as His Majesty's Ambassador at Large to certain small social situations such as this or perhaps the King needed her out of the country. She had supposedly been one of the King's main mistresses when he was isolated at the Royal Estate where the past four regimes of Aerion had kept the Royal Family held. She had arrived earlier before Lord Azazel in a in a very pretentious way. A limosuine escorted by two black Mercedez Benz. She had been a supermodel, and this still showed as her beautiful body and grace reflected it.. She had gorgeous flowing black hair, deep brown eyes, and a mixture of Native American and Arabic features. Her luscious tan skin appeared perfect, without blemish. She wore a simple black dress, but an extravigant diamond necklace around her neck. Now she stands silently in the room, gazing over those in the room, as if judging them like a cat.

ooc: My apologies, very exhausted and tired.

OOC: Then get some sleep.

"I am glad," Lord Azazel said, before looking in the direction of Ashela. "And who might this beauty be?"

OOC: Where'd you guys go? :(

"Well . . . time to meet Lord Azazel," Eran commented absently. "And try not to embarass yourself," she added, almost as an afterthought, while lightly pushing Alcheimist Alon Reich in the direction of the leader of Draconis Nightcrawlis.

"Then why're you making me go in front?" Alon asked.

"Shush."

Lord Azazel smirked to himself as a reluctant looking guest was pushed towards him. "Having fun?" he asked with a sly grin.

'Yes, milord," the alchemist replied smoothly, changing his expression in a flash, bowing. If he had a hat, he would have swept it off his head as a further sign of respect. Alon was an eccentric, not a fool, and knew when he had to show at least -some- respect.

"Your table is most exquisite. I don't believe I've seen anything like it in quite a while." That was completely true. Then again, when one could transmute one food into any other food, one stopped distinguishing after a while. "This is the Lady Eran Welsh," he stated, drawing back, "who is the curent ambassador."

"Ah good, I am glad to finally meet you I hope the embassy building suits you well," he asked. "I am also glad that you like our food."

"Ah, yes," Eran nodded, bowing in her turn. "We've had a slight bug problem, but that's been taken care of."

"Bug problem?" Lord Azazel questioned, he didn't like the sound of that.

"Just some critters who needed a home. We put a few into habitats, and transmuted the rest into meat loaf," Alchemist Reich responded.

"But that isn't important," Eran said quickly.

Lord Azazel raised and eyebrow, "Certainly an interesting if somewhat disgusting sounding way of making food," he said before looking over at the food at the buffett. "Sometimes I'd rather not know what is in the food I am eating."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lady Jillian standing in the corner scowling at him. 'Still doesn't like the idea of me holding a ball,' he thought to himself.

Ashela Asoer approached Lord Azazel, and executed a quick curtesy. She smiles a deep enigmatic smile, "Your Excellency, you have a most interesting name, named after a Demon. Yes?" She laughs a bit, taking a sip of her wine, as she looks at him with seductive eyes.

"What if he is the angel Azazel in mortal flesh?" Alchemist Reich asked quizzically.

Not very nice, trying to seduce the ruler of a nation, Eran thought. She was more than happy to let Alon [Reich] do the talking – it let her wait and watch the other guests. Would be funny if he fell for that, though.

"...But I want to pet the pretty dragons!"

Prime Minister Jonathan Anderson, all glorious five feet of him, stode into the banquet hall, followed closely by General Secretary David Brock of the Scrumpox Diplomatic Corps.

"Sir," Brock said, "I have told you before that the dragons are not to be petted. They will eat you. Get that? Do you want to be picked out of some reptile's teeth a few days after your inauguration?"

Anderson and Brock had arrived late due to the unfortunate death of the former Prime Minister, Ezreal Desdinova, at the hands of Imitoran security guards after he had attacked their new First Speaker.

"Can I ride a dragon later? I wanna go for a ride on the pretty dragon!"

"Sir, if you are good prime minister, you'll get a sweetie when we get back home, okay?"

"Really? You promise?"

"I promise. Now be a good leader and bow to the nice Lord who invited us."

"Yes, Mr. Brock."

Brock patted him on the head. "Good boy."

Lord Azazel, "I didn't take my name from any demon," he said, his eyes moving across to Alchemist Reich. "They call me by many names."

He took a glass of wine from the tray of a passing butler and took a sip. Lady Jillian was gone from her corner.

Ashela let out at a slight "ahh" of recognition, and then gave Lord Azazel a seductive look with her deep brown eyes. "His Majesty King Wasterin X sends his greetings. I am to present you with this gift." She pulls up her silver RS purse (an Aerion fashion designer), and pulls a small box out of it. Opening it, within is a beautiful golden sphere, an almost perfect sphere in fact. Engraved within it is the astrological orb, and at the two poles of it are real sparkling diamonds.

Lord Azazel looked at the gift with interest. "Quite an extravagent gift, amazing beauty," he commented. The sparkling diamonds were really what caught his eye. "Send His Majesty my thank you's."

Ashela nods, smiling, revealing her beautiful white teeth and nice lips, "Ahh, yes, I will Lord Azazel. His Majesty has expressed interest in establishing a permanent mission to your nation, and dispatching an Ambassador to present his letters of credence to you. Would you like to have an embassy of Aerion in your nation?"

"We are always open to new embassies here in Draconis Nightcrawlis," Lord Azazel told her. "But that is Lady Jillians department and she seems to have disappeared."

Bump

Orion moved through the crowd almost silently.....

Lord Azazels eyes crossed the ball room, there he saw Orion making his way through the crowd. 'I wonder who that is,' he thought to himself.

Delamine walks in. She has never before come to anything like this. She steps over into the corner

She wonders if it is worth her time to be here... and not somewhere else more interesting. She sits... hidden in the folds of her own cloak

Orion continued slowly passing through the crowd.....no one destanation set....

Lord Azazel decided to go over to the man. He followed until he was close up to him and said, "Excuse me, I don't believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you."

"Richard your glasses are dirty. If you want to make a good impression I suggest you clean them." Jess said. Richard took them off and looked at them.
"No. They aren't dirty, just a scratch." He said. "Stop worrying. You worry too much."
"You are forgetting I was raised in a diplomatic family. I've been to these things since I was a kid."
"You seem to forget that I'm the son of a Congressman."
"Yes, there is a difference to showing up to a Congress get together in a flight jacket and this in a tux. Let me..." She reached for the glasses but Richard grabbed her hand and kissed her palm.
"Lets not spoil the night over a simple bite of glass darling."
"Alright." She took him by the arm and wandered with him into the crowd.

A balding and grey haired butler walked up to Lord Azazel and politely tapped him on the shoulder. He nodded and the butler whispered something in his ear before leaving.

Lord Azazel clapped his hands together. "May I have your attention please," he called out over the sounds of the ballroom. "Dinner shall be sitting in five minutes, if you would please follow the butler he will lead you to the dining room."

Orion turned to face Azazel just as he stated the dinner arrangments.
"Oh, hello. My name is Senator Orion"

OOC: Back
IC:
Ukata turned toward Ingrid. "Well, that was quick. Seems like it's time for dinner now. Care to join me?" He gestures toward the direction the crowd is moving.

"Pleased to meet you Senator Orion," Lord Azazel smiled. "Care for dinner?"

"Why, of course I would" he said, smiling.

"Then follow me, it should be a pleasant meal," he announce before turning to leave the ballroom.

"Goodie," Alchemist Reich nodded. 'Someone told me not to make a fool of myself?"
"Oh, shut up," Ambassador Welsh pushed him after the butler.

The dining room was large, in the centre was a large table with enough seats for all the guests and more. At the head of the table was a high-backed chair with the name 'Azazel' engraved into it. There was also two eyes below the engraved name that were watching the guests enter the room.

"Watch out for my chair, it bites," Lord Azazel warned with a sly grin.

The floor was made of marble and a carpet walkway was spread out just around the table to avoid slipups and the floor being scuffed by the chairs. Abouve the table, several candle-lit chandiliers hung giving off plenty of light. Behind Lord Azazels 'living' chairs was a fireplace, above it a large paining of Lord Azazel himself hung prominantly.

The overly sensual Ashola walked in her seductive, supermodel walk into the dining room, shifting her hips as she walked. She shifted her black hair over slightly as she entered, twirlign one of the strands seductively, and then walked along as she smiled at those present with her lipsticked lips. She took her seat near Lord Azazel, smiling at him all the while, "Lovely dining room."

Richard escorted his wife in and pulled a chair out for her several places down from Azazel's chair. His eye caught the pair of eyes on Azazel's chair. There was something about those eyes he couldn't put his finger on but them seemed strange to him. Richard finally sat down next to Jess.

"I wonder who that is," Eran said quietly to Alon in Common Weyrik, referring to Ashola, her eyes not glancing even once in her direction.

The two Weyrean delegates took the chairs near the middle of the large table, somewhat away from Lord Azazel and right next to Richard and his wife.

"The bigger question is, will Lord Azazel fall for it," Alon responded.

"Too smart," Eran smiled.

"Biggest test of a ruler -- how fast does he get seduced by prettiest face at the ball."

"How the frig do you know this?" Eran asked. Alchemist Alon Reich simply shrugged. . .

Lord Azazel crossed the dining room and sat down in his chair. "Starters will come in a short while," he told the guests, his chair seemed to growl. "In the meantime I am sure you will enjoy Draconis Nightcrawlis' finest wine."

Two butlers in white tuxedo's walked in, each with a tray of wine bottles that they set down on a table by the door. Each taking a bottle and walking to the table they began pouring the wine into the guests glasses.

OOC: Weyr, I guess your talking to me when you say "BACK TO TOP"

IC: Richard turned to Eran and Alon.
"I'm the son of a retired Congressman and have been to my fair share of presidential and congressional dinners. If he is weak he will be seduced fast, if he is strong, and if he is married it will take some time. I'm Richard Baker and this is my wife Jess."

OOC: No, that's a glitch. Sorry. *goes back and edits*
--------------------------------

"A pleasure to meet you," Alon responded, still speaking in Common Weyrik. "That's Weyr's ambassador Eran Welsh, who appears to have developed a speech impediment, and I'm Alchemist Alon Reich. I'm amazed you know our language so well."

"I just picked up a few words here and there." Richard said in English. "Test, ruler, seduced, and prettiest face. I'm an ex-fighter piolet so I've been around the world a few times, flying to different airports testing out new fighters and such, and picked up a word or two here and there."
"Too bad your manners aren't as good as your learning skills." Jess said in Afrikaans.
"Ohh, be quiet Jess. Its not like I eat with my hands." He replied in Afrikaans. Jess simply shrugged as she tasted the wine.
"Sometimes you do." She said under her breath.

Soon several butlers entered the room carrying bowls of soup. They placed a bowl in front of each guest. Once that was done they returned to the kitchens.

"It is a traditional Dævonian soup, enjoy," Lord Azazel told his guests.

Jess picked up her spoon and tasted it. Very good.
"Its very good Lord Azazel, may I ask what is in it?"

Ashola smiled, watching everyone with her brown eyes, flicking back her hair as she took up the wine glass to take a sip of it elegantly. She then takes her spoon, and with utmost grace dips it in to take a sip. One can tell she is a master in her own body language. She looks around, but always diverts her looks back to Lord Azazel.

OOC: DP, next week can't come soon enough :evil:

Lord Azazel looked toward Jess, "It contains mostly tomato and cream," he explained. "Those lumps you are finding are dumplings."

Bump

"Not bad," Alon shrugged, digging in. "Although I still don't get how a foreigner could've -- " he was interupted by Eran swiftly stepping on his foot. " -- nevermind."

Lord Azazel raised an eyebrow, "Could have what?" he asked with curiosity.

Bump

“ -- picked up Common Weyrik.” Alon finished. “Places where a test pilot would stay in Weyr use only High Weyrik.”

"Umm right," Lord Azazel muttered as one of the butlers refilled his wineglass.

Orion tasted the wine
hmmmm.....not as good as Necter....and defenetly not as good as Elarian Ale he thought then agian....what could possibly beat Elarian Ale?

He also tasted the soup. Not bad.....although I've never been a big fan of Terran food

"Do aircraft mechanics talk High Weyrik? I got repremanded for stopping over at a civialian airport for a bit of gas to get me to my redevous point. While I waited I heard a bunch of them yammering away, jotting down what I think they said, and found some guy who spoke English to translate. I did it all the time."
"What crash fighter prototypes or try to pick up a word or two of another language?" Jess said with a smile as she sipped the wine.
"Hey, that one on Capitol Hill wasn't my fault." He snapped back. "It was a bad engine." Jess just shrugged.

"No, excepting the dialect. So how did you find our feral population? I'm be surprised you didn't get your airplane stolen, or get shot repeatedly."

Richard looked at Alon like he just stepped off a flying saucer.
"What the hecht did you just say?"

When Lord Azazel was finished with with his soup he placed the spoon down on the plate on which the soup bowl rested and motioned for a butler to come over.

"How long until the main course is ready?" he demanded.

"About fifteen minutes my lord," the butler replied.

"Right, thank you," he said and the butler left.

OOC: didn;t see your last post .. . sorry.
---------------------------------------

"If you landed at a civilian airport, that means there had to have been civilians; and our civilians tend to be rather . . . agressive."

OOC: It's alright.

Richard finished his soup and let a butler take it away. He leaned back in his chair sipping the wine.
"Agressive? I found them extremly friendly and helpful, grant it I had to walk them through filling the aircraft up. I also had a loaded 9mm in the cockpit. Noone shot at me. I got her filled up, said goodbye, and made my redenvous. Though there was one chap who kept flicking me off for god knows what reason. It was when I meet up with my CO I was chewed out for what I had done. It was either fill it up or crash land it. I chose to fill it up."

As the butlers took the soup bowls away, one caught Lord Azazels eye. This butler had strange eyes, they were black with red pupils. It reminded him of another face, it was a feeling of deja vu, but since all the butlers had been around the palace since he'd taken over Draconis Nightcrawlis he thought nothing of it.

Bump

OOC: Where'd you guys go? :(

To Rome. I'll post later tonight

The server's being an ass
*can't wait until Wedensday*

OOC: Perhaps its best we put this on hold until the new servers up, avoid unnessasary frustration that way.

*stumbles back to nationstates*

OCC:Sorry, ive been on vacation. Ill read thru all of this then post something.

OOC: Well I think its time we got this baby back on track :)

Something else caught his eye. "Lady Jillian, I had thought I told you no swords at the dinner table," he said.

Lady Jillian just shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

Ingrid sat down for dinner next to Ukata, sipping wine quietly. She was a fairly quiet person, and observed the other guests without saying anything. She noticed substantially more gold and silver and such than one would see in Callisdrun. That was to be expected though, as Callisdrunians did not make much use of precious metals. In fact, the crown worn by Callisdrun's kings and queens throughout the ages was made of iron. Even formal clothes worn by the richest Callisdrunians, though elegant, were very simple in design. When she had first travelled to Rotenburg, Callisdrun's southern neighbor, Ingrid had found the foreign formal clothing and decor rather gaudy. She had become used to it, being a diplomat, by now though. She continued to silently observe the other guests.

OOC: What's for dinner?

A young blond male dressed in the palace cook's uniform, entered the dining room carrying a tray with a large roast chicken placed upon it. The young cook couldn't have been anything more then fifteen or sixteen years old. He set the try down and stepped away.

Lord Azazel eyed him suspiciously. "You look familiar boy," he mentioned.

"I do work here Sir," he replied.

"True," Lord Azazel said. "Now begone from my sight."

The cook nodded and left.

Lord Azazel motioned for one of the butlers to come over. The one with the black eyes and red pupils walked over.

"Yes my Lord?" he asked.

"That cook, who is he?" Lord Azazel demanded.

"Dat be de cooks son Sieger, my Lord," the butler told him. "Thought a young looking cook would be better for de guest t'see den an old one."

"Right,"

How old are we talking about? Alon wondered. [[Sorry, nothing to say]]

As the butlers were preparing for the main course, a breeze blew in from out of nowhere and the room was plunged into darkness. Lord Azazel stood up from his seat, slamming his fist against the table.

"Lady Jillian, go find out whats going on," he yelled to her, he decided there and then to have whoever was responsible for interrupting the ball executed.

Somewhere, maybe in the dining room, a laugh filled the air.

Alon pulled something from one of his pockets, and held it up over his head. The light that came out of the alchemist’s hand would have been blinding, had it not been held in such a way that it could only escape towards the ceiling. Thus, the room was only rather dimly illuminated.

"Er . . . anyone known where the light switch is?" he asked, quite seriously.

The backup lights were quickly on, lighting up the dining room once more. Crouched upon the table directly in front of Lord Azazel was was the former heir to the royal throne, Prince Kurt. In his right hand was a sword, its tip was pressed into the underside of Lord Azazel's chin.

"Hello grandfather," he grinned. "You do not look happy to see me, perhaps you began to believe your lies to the world that I had died by your hand."

"'Just stab him and be done with it," Alon sighed inwardly. They were gong to get anothe rlong-winded angsting speech, at the end of which the kid was just going to get killed. At least, that's what tended to happen in Weyr -- The kid would talk his head off while someone outside would summon up the firing squad . . .

"I am immune to my own lies Kurt," Lord Azazel said.

The sword in Kurts hand began to glow red hot causeing him to drop it. He disappeared into a cloud of purple smoke and reappeared with a little more distance between them.

"I thought that would be the case so I brought this with me," Kurt said pulling a lightsaber out. It was blue, the same colour the former prince was.

"Two can play at that my dear Kurt," Lord Azazel announced as he too drew a lightsaber, red like himself. "I apoligise for this interuption in our dinner, I shall deal with it swiftly."

Ingrid observed the commotion without showing any sign of emotion. She continued to sip her wine, eventually raising one eyebrow. If she had brought her axe, which she hadn't because of the ban on weapons to this party, it would have been buried in the back of the apparent grandson's head by now. Though she disapproved of countries having absolute rulers, she disapproved of people staging a coup simply for the purpose of grabbing power even more, especially if they had to disrupt a pleasant evening to do so. She then gave a little sigh of annoyance

"Oh bloody hell." Richard said. "Under the table." He and Jess both moved under the long table to avoid being hit by the lightsabers, should a battle begin. "Oh!" Richard reached back up and pulled down the wine glasses. "Good stuff, shame to lose it." He passed Jess her glass before poking his head back out to see what was happening.

Kurt lept at his grandfather and their lightsabers clashed. Lord Azazel twisted around as his grandson landed bacl on the table.

"You should be dead Kurt," he growled.

"You should know the prophesies grandfather," he replied. Again he teleported out of harms way as his grandfather swung at his legs. He reappeared beside the door that led into the kitchen. "You know that you have no chance."

There was a clash of lightsabers as Kurt blocked and attack from his grandfather.

"I had plenty of time to get wiser in that dimension your father left me in," Lord Azazel replied, fending off Kurt's counter attack. "I learnt long ago that prophesies are false and you are going to end up dead just like your parents and your sister."

Kurt resisted the urge to blindly attack having been told that. Letting his emotions get the better of him would be a fatel mistake. "Careful, that sounds like a prophecy to me," he taunted.

Lord Azazel growled.

The butler with the strange eyes peeked at the two hiding under the table. "If you two want to escape, go to de kitchen," he suggested to them.

"Leaving already?" Alon asked Richard, looking under the table, meanwhile abscently etching a transmutation circle into the table with a needle that somehow materialized in his hand.

"Try not to kill anyone," Eran remarked.

"Leave? No, just some cover to stay out of possible line of fire." Richard said, he added with a grin: "This is to interesting to leave. Are you alright Jess?"
"I'm fine Richard."
"See? I just don't want one of those lightsabers cutting off my head."

Ingrid just watched the spectacle. She had no idea who was in the right and who was in the wrong, but she thought it was very rude to interupt dinner for a swordfight. She unknowingly started tapping her fingers on the table out of impatience.

Kurt was using his agility to its fullest as he fought his grandfather. He found his grandfather to be tougher then he was expecting. He dodged another of his grandfathers attacks just as the first shots of a battle in the kitchens was heard. Kurt realised that wasn't a good sign.

"This stops now!" Lord Azazel yelled, raising his hand.

What looked like a lightning bolt shot from his hand, towards the former prince. Kurt quickly teleported out of the way and the bolt hit the wall behind where he had previously stood. What Kurt hadn't realised was he had just teleported directly in front of a rather large man. The man brought his large fist down and knocked the former prince out cold.

"Quickly get the collar on him," Lord Azazel yelled.

The man and Lady Jillian quickly placed a collar around Kurt's neck which began glowing red. The man then dragged him out the room. Lord Azazel went and picked up Kurt's lightsaber.

"I must apoligise for this," he said with a sigh. "We knew that any kind of ball would probably attract them. Though we were very prepared for this to happen I did not expect to capture the leader of the Norse Marauders so easily. Right now his friends are being dealt with and you are safe to come out from under the table now."

Ingrid, who had not left her seat during the entire episode, stopped tapping her fingers on the table and smiled politely. Finally, they could get to dinner.

Lady Jillian whispered something in Lord Azazels ear.

"Dammit," he mumbled. "I also must apoligise that dinner will now be delayed because of the situation in the kitchens."

Richard and Jess retook thier seats. Richard didn't feel embarsed on what he did, instead he acted as he knew any sane person would.
"Lord Azazel, what are the Norse Marauders?" Jess asked.

Oh well, it wasn't as though she was in any sort of hurry. So Ingrid continued to sip her wine.

Lord Azazel looked toward Jess. "The Norse Marauders are an underground terrorist group formed by my own grandson in order to steal my power away from me," he explained.

"May I ask what got your grandson so pissed at you?" Jess said.

"The boy had bad parents, ruined his mind and made him power hungry," Lord Azazel replied. "Fortunately it also made him blind and allowed me to beat him here."

Ingrid found all this power struggle stuff quite intriguing. It was unlike anything that went on in Callisdrun

"What are you going to do with the lad?" Jess asked.

"I haven't decided yet," Lord Azazel replied. "There are quite a few things that I could do with him, but for now he is going to stay in custody."

"You'll give him a fair trail when the time comes and let him be sentence by his peers?" Jess said. Richard sat there sipping his wine, looking bored. He turned to Ingrid.
"So where are you from?"

Ingrid looked to Richard. "Callisdrun." Her accent was quite prominent, but she was not hard to understand. "It's quite a bit warmer here. And yourself?"

"The Golden Simatar, did you do anything before you started in politics? I for one was in the Air Force." Richard said wipping his glasses off.

"Of course he'll be given a fair trail," Lord Azazel said, walking off to get more wine.

"The Golden Simatar, did you do anything before you started in politics? I for one was in the Air Force." Richard said wipping his glasses off.

"I was in the navy." Ingrid said before taking another sip of wine. "But that's not saying much, as almost all of Callisdrun's diplomats either were or are in the navy. Military service in Callisdrun is compulsory, and the Navy is the largest branch of the military by far, and being in the navy, one develops a taste for traveling abroad." She paused and then resumed. "What did you do in the Air Force? Were you ground crew? If you were a pilot, what sort of aircraft did you fly?"

"I was a pilot." Richard said and he leaned back. "I flew mostly experimental aircraft, had many fall...quite literally I might add, fall apart while I was flying. The upside was I got several thousand dollars extra a month. Before that I flew F-16s, and F-18s. Navy ehhh? What kind of ship did you serve on?"

"I served on a battle cruiser and then on a light cruiser. A post on a battle cruiser is a much coveted job in the navy. Of course, because Erzsebet Sorvik was the captain of the light cruiser, I actually had a better time on that ship." At that point Ingrid looked somewhat nostalgic. "Oh, the pranks we pulled. It was great. Pay was all right, nothing too special."

"I'm afraid I must leave you all for a moment," Lord Azazel suddenly announced. "I have a few things to sort out about the attack, rest assured that the dinner will be ready by the time that I am back."

Alon listened to the conversations going on around him; meanwhile abscently transmuting his little patch of the table into various images. Dinner, no dinner, he shrugged inwardly. This was a good evening, as far as he was concerned.

Richard looked over at Alon, his face full of curiosity. "What ya got there?"

Lord Azazel soon returned to the dining hall. "Sorry about that," he apologised. "Dinner will be coming out in around about five minute I am pleased to say."

"What ya got there?"

"Huh, oh," Alon turned to look at what his hand was doing. "Just a reflex. I believe that's Kurt," the alchemist shrugged dismissively, and wiped the image and the remains of the alchemical circle in with a small flash of blue light and static.

Lord Azazel overheard that and walked over to Alon. "What about Kurt?" he asked.

Over at the other side of the dining hall, the large man that had knocked out the former prince watched them.

"I have a reflex disorder where I end up transmuting various things depending on what I'm thinking about. At the moment I was thinking that Kurt reminded me of someone I knew, so I wound up transmuting the tabletop into an image of Kurt," Alon shrugged. The image was gone now.

"Ah interesting," Lord Azazel said. He wondered who this person might have been, there really couldn't be anyone else that was blue and furry could there? "Aside from the interuption I do hope you are enjoying yourself."

OOC: Guess this is officially dead now

OOC: Guess this is officially dead now

We have four participants . . . and I don't count because I 5uc|< at these sorts of things . . . which makes for three . . .

OOC:

Pff, I've only ever RP'd against one person who saw to the thread all the to the end, twice. Unfortunately he quit NS, no one else seems to want to finish threads anymore.

I've not RPed peaceful threads, action and battle are more my thing.

I've not RPed peaceful threads, action and battle are more my thing.

So thats why you hid under the table?

When two guys go at it with lightsabers you need to take cover, am I not right?

When you're under an artillery shelling, you want to take cover, when you are under fire from machine guns, you want to take cover. Its the natural human reaction to get under something for protection.

Unless you're an alchemist, in which case you know you have time to get a drink and transmute whatever danger comes your way . . .

Hmm Golden Simitarians are very unlike Draconians then.

What do you mean by that? Are you saying Simatarian's are cowards and hide under cover when trouble comes?

OOC: Well I havn't seen them act any other way :D

<< OOC - speaking of finishing RP's, Draconis you are needed in the "Pirates" thread...!!!! I wish to hunt you down!!!!>>

<< OOC - speaking of finishing RP's, Draconis you are needed in the "Pirates" thread...!!!! I wish to hunt you down!!!!>>

Sorry but I'm currently ignoring you

<<OOC - Oh...may I ask why? I thought the RP was going just fine...but if I have done something to insult you, please let me know and I will correct it. Plus, why do the others involved in the RP need to suffer?>>

I'm ignoring you not them, as far as I'm concered they're fighting amongst amongst themselves. You on the otherhand, your characters do not exist. Why? you try controlling other peoples characters and technology, thats a no no, the rumour excuse is just lame. I don't RP with people who do that. Also you try to godmod, read Calecks last OOC post.

Last but not least, you don't seem to understand what the TG is for.

<<OOC - fair enough, and thanks for replying. I disagree with most of what you said, but I will not try to convince you otherwise here. >>