NationStates Jolt Archive

The snow was falling softly to the ground, covering the land below and the trees nearby with a white blanket of infinite snow and melting ice. The landscape was placid, and at the same dynamic as everything, including the falling snow was moving. Several reindeer could be seen running softly over the Tundra, and multitude of birds raced through the air, ensorcelling the sight of the inmense sky over the entire scene. It was winter, yes, yet the first signs os spring were almost pouring out of the earth and the heaven above it.

It was a lovely place indeed, a perfect place, thought Aliria as the trail of her shoes slowly marked her travelling through the winter landscape. Her footprints were bringing her to the lonely wood cabin in the midst of a little hill, and to the figure standing in front of it, almost looking unreal, like a dweomer or illusion of the inmense beauty displaying in front of her. It was an Ice Queen, or at least someone dressed as such. she remembered her last instruction in the letter the Everqueen sent to her. Go to the place were the snow ends, to the place were sky meets the ground. there you will find me. Follow the instructions of your guide, but come alone to me, as of this chat depends your future and the future of our nation.

A good dramatic sense, to dress as the Ice Queen in a place like this, at this time of the year, and so away of the Craftworld that encompassed the home of both, the Queen and the Princess, thought Aliria as she finally made the final steps towards the tall and white figure standing in front of the cabin. It was indeed the Aelosian Everqueen, her exquisite beauty engulfed in the long white garments of her Ice Queen disguise, her deep clear eyes staring directly and without a blink towards her own.

"So...You have arrived, Heir to the Throne of the Sindar. As we agreed, you're on time. I have the most important affair to discuss with you today here in this place. I finally found ", stated the Everqueen as she turned her back to Aliria, turning to see the beauty and the enormous weight of the tundra behind them. Her gloved hands slowly raised into the air, and for a moment looked like the snow was falling in circles around her figure, like admiring her yet not daring to touch her flawless skin. The white fur shoulder straps at both side of her dress suddenly were moved by a new, raging yet dying cold breeze...as an agonizing end of the fiery Northern wind of old times.

"Winter is ending, and so my rule over the Sindarin must end, as winter also does when spring is near and the snow starts to melt. I came back from another age to find out that my loved people finally built an Empire worth of themselves, a new Doriath reinstated over the ashes of the old, a new beginning for our kin. And ironically they used my name for identifying its place in the history. I was deeply moved back then, and I'm still moved now. But I must realize that although I was their hero in another age, who grew itself alone in the woods of the second age, who bought in the blood the essence of three races, who dared the power of the Dark Lord of Angband in the War of Wrath, who fought to free our people from the wicked Eldar that tried to enslave us. But I'm no longer that hero, but just an anachronic and half insane tired, former queen, looking for rest", she said, covering her face with her both hands for a second before continuining.

"I know my sanity is failing me, and I would be irresponsible if I can think that I can rule the people that I love like a mad tyrant. I don't want to hurt noone, even less the Empire that I love, care about and bears my name. That's why I must abdict my throne in favour of a successor, and you're the appointed heir right now", finally she turned to Aliria, and directed an icy glance at the Princess with her cold, unearthly eyes.

"But you...You aren't ready. you want to be the Everqueen of a proud elven Empire. You have the favor of your people, a noble birth, and some diplomatic and social qualities. you're an intelligent, smart and witty courtier, and knows how to read people's intentions and use them to achieve your ends", said Aelosia, her gaze sending shivers through Aliria's spine, as the tentacles of the Everqueen's will grappled her essence and threatened to rip off her consciensce from her mind.

"You want to rule over elves, the first sons of Ilúvatar. You want to rule over the Sindarin, the most noble and regal of all the elves, who never fell to any dark oaths. You want to engage the most powerful beings in this universe and survive. You want to rival both the most witty courtiers of the surviving Edain, the power of the tyrant of Angband. You want to be the counterpart of the Elentári of the Noldor, and want to represent elvenkind in front of the rest of the living beings. Yet you're not up to that task, Princess Aliria of the House of D'Hyru, blood of my blood, my descendant. I have seen inside your soul and your mind, and you're scared like a little bird chased by a falcon. You still don't have the spirit that a true elven ruler needs". The words were harsh, and the stare was full of a harming intent as the will of the Queen sank further inside Aliria's mind.

"You're afraid because you don't think you'll have the capacity to rule. And that makes you unfit to such important role. you have a lot of things to learn about politics, economics, welfare and warfare. Yet you don't even trust yourself about your own capacity, and that makes you useless to my purpose", said the Everqueen, a dismissive look in her face, as depising the weakness of Aliria's heart.

The Princess was devastated, Summoning me here just to tell me that. I suppose my future is to be turned into the maid of the castle as someone else occupy the throne. At least I hope that it will someone worthy of the weight of the Empire, as I'm nothing but a simple girl trying to climb a height too difficult for me. "I understand, Everqueen. I won't bother you..."

"You don't", interrumpted Aelosia, her face now showing a relentless anger. "You don't understand yet. I'll give you a last chance to succeed, and to approve my standards. I'll measure and weight you again after your next lessons, and then I'll determine if you're the real heir of the Sindar or just another failure in our path to glory", she continued, smiling for the first time.

"I've prepared everything, and I've build an entire castle for you to learn and be enlightened by the needed wisdom of any elven ruler. I've found the best teachers and all our Empire to teach you, and as I speak they're already waiting for you. Yet I know that your horizon goes even farther than the Sindarin people, and then you need wisdom and powers far beyond our own capacities. Remember something, Aliria, to be an elven ruler is to achieve perfection, and compete against yourself to wake up everyday being a more powerful and capable person. Never forget that". The Everqueen paused for a little watching the tiny silouette of a Falcon racing through the sky.

"My messages are already being sent to most of the most powerful beings in this part of the universe, seeking for mentors truly worthy of teaching their secrets to an elven rulers. I'll find for you the best of the best. The most cunning, smarter, powerful and awesome beings in this world, to have the honor and the privilege to place their wisdom inside your mind. I won't be sutile and I'll place away my own prejudices, seeking for balance. You must learn everything, and that includes placing your moral aside when you need to and defend your way of thinking when the time demands to do so", finally the Queen took Aliria's hand between her own. "I have trust in you, and I know that under the perfect and true guidance you'll emerge as the best ruler this empire have ever seen since the First Age"

The Queen, smiling at the Heir of the Sacred Empire of the Sindar, looked at the sunshine, and let the sun fell over her and her companion, in the horizon the shade of a wonderful castle pointing to the sky in defiance.

In a Secret Dependence inside the Royal Palace of the Aelosian Craftworld

"Messages signed and sealed by the Everqueen, maximum priority", said the paige, dropping several exquisite pieces of parchment. "They arrived this afternoon, and only expect your permission to be delivered in the right places, My Lady", the words of the young and good looking young elf accompanied by a deep bow.

Lady Celestrianna Paelisi, Chancellor of the Empire, wasn't exactly happy to be interrumpted in the middle of such a secret meeting, but her uncomfortable feelings were replaced soon by susprise and amazement. Nodding to the paige she took the scrolls and commanded the paige to leave, finally alone with her brother, Duke Alain Paelisi, the Admiral of the Fifth Fleet.

"The first one is directed at me", she said as she checked the message, opening the magical wax sealing the scroll, reading the expected invitation, the sound of the door closing accompanying her words. "It's the formal invitation to teach the art of the courtier to the Heir of the Empire. The Everqueen told about it weeks ago, but it finally have arrived".

"I thought she was your pupil some time ago, when she was a young kid. I even remember that she was your favourite disciple, sis", said the handsome officer clad in the golden armor wearing the blazon of his Noble House.

"Yes, yet of course I held most secrets from her, as she was too young and wasn't ready for such deep lessons, however she's the person with most talent in this Empire to catch the sutile art of the courtier in the deepest degree, so I offered myself to finish my work. As for the rest, they are directed at the people that I expected. most of them intellectuals and scholars of our kind. Yet, this package involving foreign nations is very interesting...Seems that the Everqueen finally decided to bring foreigners as mentors. I agree, as many people in the outside world manages to have talents that surpass our own in many fields", said the wise chancellor with a wink.

Suddenly, the face of the woman grew pale, as she read the destinations of the letters. Her mouth opened wide as she read the first places, and remained that way until her brother nudged her in the ribs with his elbow. "So?. What does that says?"

The voice of the woman came out as a whisper, but his brother could hear it. "To Lord Alkanphel, Utumno. To Lady Sirithil, Vinyatirion. To Lady Nathicana, the Dominion. To Istari Mephet'ran, Duat, and the list goes on. United Indiastan, New York New Jersey, Knootoss, Emperor Devon Treznor, The Speaker to Animals, Olorndil of Silmesse...almost all our former allies and enemies are here. Alas, this is a summary of the most influential characters in the entire universe!". Celestrianna let the scrolls slip her hands and fell to the table, herself collapsing in a nearby seat.

"Letters are letters, I suppose the Everqueen is looking to open new relationships with important countries and...", said the Admiral looking at the strange expression in his sister's features...

"That's why I'm the courtier and you're just an Admiral", said the Chancellor with an icy glance and a tired, desperated look. "You don't understand. These are the other candidates for Aliria's mentors!. These people is invited to go to NeoDoriath to teach the Princess. For Oröme!, you don't understand a bit of it, don't you. The Everqueen is going to invite these people as Aliria's teachers!.

OOC:

If you're an acquitance of mine, you can suppose you received a letter. Sorry if I forgot your name in the IC list, but the list is long. You can assume you can join this rp if you send me a telegram. If you don't, then please don't try to join, as you will be ignored.

If you answer this post with one of your own, I can tell you what's inside the letter, and we will roleplay your agreement with the Aelosian goverment, if you don't, I'll just assume that you're not interested...

I hope you'll like and enjoy this rp, I have high hopes regarding this one...

Imperator Marshal Janos Haske shifted in his seat slightly as his eyes passed over the odd missive. The sound of his mug clanking on it's small plate was the only sound in the room as he discarded his coffee in favor of the most intriguing item that now lay on top of the mail bin. It was addressed to Alkanphel of course, but the Marshals frequently screened such messages before sending them to the higher-ups: it was one of the more mundane tasks appointed to them in times of peace that few of the men were fond of.

He snorted in contempt as he peered at the sender's name. "Fucking Elves," he muttered, reaching for a wickedly curved letter opener, slicing through the top of the thing a moment later. "They probably want us to let all those slaves go or some stupid shit," he muses to himself as he flips the paper open, lifting the coffee cup once more to his lips.

He lifted a brow as he reads, calmly setting down the mug again as he reaches the end. "Oh, this is too good," he says aloud, dropping the paper on his desk. Drawing a cigarette from an open case on his desk, he lit it and stood, snatching his dress jacket off his desk chair and buttoning it up.

He grabbed up the letter and began his trek through the tunnels. This was something he'd certainly have to pass up the line.

Janos Hasek
Lieutenant First Class, Imperial Marshals
http://upl.silentwhisper.net/uplfolders/upload5/janos.JPG

[OOC: Some fluid time involved. ]

Former Palace of the High Council,
Capital City of Vigvar,
Grand Duchy of Tarasovka,
Sisgardia.

It has been only several days after the last shot was fired at Tin-Vilena. The Grand Duchy won the war. With Aphyr turned into one giant wasteland, with millions of lives wasted down the drain and the Grand Duke declared dead by the Order of Seven Deities, the victory was rather bitter. And the complete pacification and disinfection of Aphyr was not the end of the troubles, for tensions began to rise in Cardinia and Dakathia, with people wanting to get an answer - why did their own army had to turn their own territory into a smoldering desert, eliminating all living beings. The High Council declared a general state of emergency and imposed curfew over the entire territory. But it only tossed fuel to the flames, as the civil defence militias threatened to refuse to abide by the High Council rulings now that the Grand Duchy was formally without a head of state. It was then that three commanding officers of the military simply said ‘Enough is enough’ and took the matter into their own hands. General-Colonel Ustinov, Acting Commander of the Ground Forces, Admiral Puchinov, Commander of the Taraskovyan Space Fleet and Marshal Voevodov, Head of the Tactical Division. The three were supported by the secretive Duke Voronov, the Commander of the Kaskad, the military intelligence service. The three men, aided by Voronov, did not waste their time and soon took control of the entire territory of the Grand Duchy by ensuring the loyalty of a major part of the remains of the regular armed forces. The High Council was dissolved and full scale warfare erupted behind the scene between the Kaskad, the TISD, the TDI and the TNSD.

But this was not important right now. What was important was that the Ruling Council(as the three men dubbed themselves) was reunited (along with Voronov) in what used to be the High Council Palace, where the High Council and Council of Duchy would gather. Ustinov was busy yelling something into a communications device attached to his ear.

- What Colonel are you if you cannot deploy a damn regiment to a friendly city? I don’t want excuses! Yes, I know you are lacking personnel, we all do!

A lieutenant came into the room with an envelope. Voevodov took it.

- Was delivered from the Aelosian Embassy to the security piquet outside of their compound.
- Good. Dismissed.
- Yes, Sire!

Voevodov read it through while Ustinov was busty looking at a display screen and yelling some orders…

- How come the residence of Marshal Dobronegov was not circled yet? I want a company out there now! If the Marshal escapes, you shall be personally responsible for the failure.

Gave it to Puchinov who read it through…

- I don’t want to bloody know how these UPAC’s got there! I want them freaking out of the square since it’s blocking the armor column! At least get these birds into the air!

And passed it on to Voronov, who also read it…

- Bloody of all hells, if they refuse to obey, disarm them! And don’t let yourself be pushed around by some civil defence militia!

Voronov smiled and handed it to Ustinov, who was switching from pale to red all the time. He read the letter through.

- Well… they ask for a mentor…
- Yes. Would be most interesting.
- A mentor… where will we find a ‘mentor’ when I can’t find a damn battalion!

Voronov chuckled.

- Either way, I guess that a mentor of ours should teach Princess Aliria something we Taraskovyans excel in…
- And what do we excel in…

Ustinov, who was, as it was clear by now, in charge of the ground phase of the operation, must have received a bad report since his eyes lit up with anger.

- What do we excel in? We are good at plotting behind the scenes, messing the world up and getting obliterated by our own damn weapon since it grew itself a damn brain!

The four remained silent for a moment.

- I don’t think that’s a quality an elven ruler really needs…
- Yes, I agree…
- Totally…
- Damn it! Of course the Winter Palace was to be taken under surveillance and Archduchess Vethara consigned to her apartments until further orders and… What do you mean the Leib-Guard is not letting you in? Damn it, damn it, damn it! My men are being pushed around by clowns in blue gowns? What do you mean by 'they have guns'? And what do you have, inflatable toy hammers?

The other members of the Ruling Council and Voronov simply sighed.

***

Later that day a letter was handed to the Aelosian Ambassador to Vigvar, which contained an answer to the previous offer. For interior reasons, the Grand Duchy did not have the possibility to dispatch anyone at that moment.

[OOC: Well, since I did get a TGram, thought I’d make a lil’ post. :)
And since I’ll be away for the entire August, can’t participate anyway :( ]

The request came not only at an interesting time, but was rather unexpected in nature to say the least. Nathicana sat quietly in her office, slowly tracing her finger across the beautifuly crafted scroll, pondering the offer, and the possible rammifications.

She remembered the elven woman, she was certain of it. The Winter Ball in Lavenrunz, where everything fell apart so badly. She hadn't had nearly enough time there to get to know people and mingle, and she curses silently as she recalls the incident.

Well, I'm not arrogant enough to believe this is a singular request. Surely, given the nature of it, there are others. But who? And why risk exposing the rule of your nation to the influence of others like this? Is it a trick? Trying to grab what secrets they can to use against us later? Not unheard of, but silly, given the ability of people to intentionally mislead ... Damned if this doesn't pique my interest though. It could be a singular opportunity, not to be missed. It could be madness as well, but ... surely if I took precautions?

She continues to puzzle over the missive, her brow furrowing as she mulls over the possibilities. After a time, she sends a quick message to arrange what she knew would be 'required' security for such an excursion, then set to clearing her schedule, notifying her Ministers of her intent to make a diplomatic trip to Aelosia - a first for the Dominion - and arranging a meeting of said cabinet to take care of anything that needed looking into before she left. Once finished with initial arrangements, she carefully pens a response on a fine sheet of parchment, writing in her bold, fluid style with a calligraphic pen and ink.



As surprising as this is, may I say that I would be most honored to accept
your gracious invitation for this intriguing opportunity. I only hope that what
meager assistance I can provide will be adequate to the task.

I look forward both to sharing what knowledge I may, and to learning what I
can of you and your people as well during my stay, in hopes of a better
understanding between our two nations, and opening new horizons for us
both.

May this be the start of a bright, prosperous future.

-- Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion



http://home.mchsi.com/~ketri/wsb/links/Nath7.jpg

The Council read through the letter with some degree of surprise 'A mentor for Aliria, and you are sure the Queen really intended for us to recieve this, relations with her have been strained as of late.' Darvins had been the one to first recieve the letter and he still he questioned the man.

Iyanna laughed a moment and as the other Council members looked at her questionly she explained. 'Perhaps we can solve several problems here, firstly I take it we are all in agreement that it is vital to improve relations between ourselves and the people of Aelosia, the current Everqueens hostility to us not withstanding, and that any mentor we send should be someone that has the trust of Aliria. Well then I sugest we send Telgorthrind.' At this curious looks crossed the Council members faces, it seemed a strange suggestion. Even in his current state, as the dominant soul within the Infinity Matrix of the Flagship of the Yvressi's prime Fleet he was a respected ancestor.

'Of Course this would require sending the Sacriface but in his current mood the vessel is a liabilty, we all saw how his Soul seized control of the vessel in the face of the Fallen. Well then we shall send Telgorthrind, by all accounts the Princess Aliria liked and respected Telgorthrind in life, she will trust him, and perhaps in serving this role for the Council he will be calmed, and let his rage fade.'

Smiles now came from the Council members, 'One question High Farseer, what lesson will we be sending Telgorthrind to teach the Princess, for I do not suspect it is to teach her of the ways of Farseers?' Now Galdern looked intriqued as he spoke.

'What else my friends, Sacriface and Duty, knowing when and being willing to, surrender your life for the good of your people. To face that death and not care, indeed to turn your death into a weapon, as Telgorthrind did, that is what he shall teach, the strength of death.'


To:- Queen Aelosia
RE:- Mentors.

Your Highness, the Council shall respond to your request for Mentors, in perhaps an unsual manner, in one week from this message being recieved by you, the Sacriface shall depart to the place of the Princess Aliria's instruction. There it shall remain, the Prime Soul of former High Farseer Telgorthrind shall act then as a Mentor to the lady, amongest other things he shall endevor to instruct her in sacriface, and in accepting the end and using the strength it grants to save your people.

The Final duty of a leader in other words.

Farseer Council

deleted

Speaker-Rrit twitches his bat-winged ears slightly. Now here is something new.

Within minutes, the upper echelon of the command staff--Executive, International Relations, and Intelligence--assemble in front of Speaker's broad desk. As the kzintosh reads the missive, Razak smirks wryly, Kommetrez ponders thoughtfully, and Garbo just half-smiles, hands in his pockets. The Intelligence Advisor is the first to respond. "Well," Garbo says with a chuckle, black afro bouncing slightly over his Asian features, "you were requested by name."

Speaker nods. "Yes, but I do have duties to attend to, and ever since Spoilsport..." He lets the rest go unsaid. "Going off to where there will probably be others would not be wise. It would be unusual for such a thing to be unitary, only asking us."

"True," Garbo replies, standing lazily with his practiced nonchalance in his usual sleek but slightly-sloppy double-breasted blue sports coat. "SIS hasn't found much along those lines, but our relations with Aelosia are tenuous at best and we don't necessarily even have much in the way of signals intelligence on them... hand-delivered scrolls? Bah. The Dominion, on the other hand, we've got covered like a glove and we know for certain that the dear Dread Lady received a very similar message... so whoever we send will have damn fine competition."

We are unsure it is a competition, Automata Alshai Kommetrez replies, momentarily speaking for the Archailect in the lofty tone of voice he reserves for them, then continues in his own, more modest, voice. We teach Aliria what we can and let her make her own decisions after that. It makes sense that any 'competition' will be playing to win--trying to influence the workings of a nation and form, if not a puppet, at least a like-minded nation. We'll play it straight, so we'll improve relations no matter how it turns.

"While I can take care of your duties, Speeks," the silver-haired Razak offers, hands folded easily behind his back as he stands loosely at ease, "I'm not comfortable with sending you out without an escort either, and I'm sure neither Federal Police or Mobile Infantry will fill your hostess with joy, even if we stick them in light or low-obs armor."

"I could send some SIS shockers as 'diplomats...'" Garbo grimaces in distaste. "Hardly subtle, though."

Or there's Hesche. Alshai grins broadly with lips firmly closed.

The kzintosh chuckles, a low rumble deep in his chest. "Yes, there is always Hesche. I think he will do quite well."

Mephet'ran yawned a little, reading his (many) letters of the day. First there was something from Arshaw, about the Silvae project, a proposal to use one of those space stations with the chronometrons to speed it up a little. Then there was a report from the Military about the progress on the Earth Projection Fleet. The latest ISA reports on that clusterfuck that was Thelas made an interesting read. Perhaps Asirnoth was right on that one – perhaps it was time to send in the cleaners. Then something interesting, from Aelosia. He read it through again, and waved a hand over a small group of crystals set into his desk. “Luin,” he said, “I think I have an assignment for you. How’d you like to be a regal tutor?” He took the hand away again, and the signal was sent.

Sirithil read the letter carefully... Aliria was 'growing up' in a way, though she had long reached adulthood. It was good to see that Aelosia had recognized that much had to be learned before an heir can take their throne; Sirithil had realized this with Maglor, and was showing him the ins and outs of rulership through on-the-job training. Apparently Aliria's tutelage would be different, though no less interesting. And Sirithil, the quintessential empress, a true lady of both war and peace, of benevolence and pragmatism, of diplomacy and strength, had been invited to take part.

She would be honored, of course.

It took her only a moment to transmit her enthusiastic acceptance.

To: Lord Alkanphel, Fallen Maia of the Dark Power of Utumno
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

This is missive not designed for threat of just insult you. Although my wrist trembles as my hand runs over this piece of parchment, because for the first time I direct my will towards the Dark Powers with a feather and not with the tip of my sword, I must recognize that this is an invitation I have to send.

I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

I have chosen you as a suitable candidate for the role of her mentor. I know that you must be wondering why, and the true answer is that I must recognize you as one of the most powerful beings in the entire universe, and that your wisdom runs long and deep. You're a maia, and the part of my soul that retains some of the blood of that race demands that a being like you must have inherent knowledge that you and only you possess.

Your reward and payment can be anything that me, in my hands, can place upon you. Of course that giving the sovereignity of my Empire to you is out of the question, but my wishes are really to be generous with all the candidates. (And yes, and you might have guessed, many people received letters like this one, both your allies and enemies).

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in the Dark Speech)_________________________________________________________________

To: Natichana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady of the Dominion
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

This letter is directed at you, due to the interesting rumors I have heard about your political talent and skill for intrincate intrigues. Stories have reached my ears around your amazing capability to surprise and ensnare in delicate and sutile webs your opponents and allies alike each time your hand or tongue act.

To finally reach the interesting point, I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors

To be honest, you represent the guile and smart qualities of the human race, and with no doubt your mind is an excellent example of wondrous wit, a challenge for even the most trained and talented courtier. With no doubt you have more political skills than any elven courtier could have learned in centuries of study. That's why I've decided that you could be an amazing mentor for the Princess, and I would be glad if you can join the staff.

I could tell you that just being Aliria's mentor is truly an honor and a reward, yet that offer, although a true one, would be just a way of remarking the rumors of our insolent arrogance. Yet I prize talent over anything else, and I know that your talent has no prize over the face of the universe. However I offer any prize or reward that it's up to my reach to give to any of the candidates that I've chosen, and you're not an exception.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in Italian)_________________________________________________________________

To: The Council of Farseers of Tor Yvresse
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Although I must recognize that it was difficult indeed for me to grab my writing feather to finally write this letter, because my hands were balled into fists, I have finally gathered the tranquility I needed. However, even as I prize you as an enemy, and I'm fearless and honest enough to tell you that in a frank, blatant way; after living amongst you for centuries I must realize that the hidden power, knowledge and wisdom of your race must not be understimated.

The main purpose of this letter is to inform you that I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

So, I'm giving you a last chance to redeem yourselves in the eyes of our people and their rulers. It's true that I won't let you have a hold over the Sindar as long as I rule over them, but my time is near to be ending as Queen of my people. Probably you could find a penitence enough convincing for the Princess to forgive your many sins.

If you're truly successful teaching Aliria some of the many secrets and skills you possess, then you can expect a reward or prize due to your effort. And I'm even including my forgiveness here. I hope that you and your so called wisdom could apprecciate this offer for what is worth.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in the intricates runes of the eldar language)
_________________________________________________________________

To: Speaker to Animals
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Greetings, old and wise one. To my ears many fables regarding your power and wisdom have arrived, and I'm pleased to write you for the first time in our longer and truly successful lives. I suppose you'll be surprised to receive a letter for a total stranger like I am to you, yet I think I'll inform you of an issue that may caught your interest.

The issue is simple, I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

If the information I have gathered is correct, and I think with good conviction that it is, you are one of the most fair and capable arbiter of all the universe, and you and your people have proved several times to excel in the delicate and intrincate art of mediation. that's why I have thought of you or any of your advisors as a possible mentor for the future Queen. Not only for the knowledge that you could be able to share with the Princess, but also to maintain the delicate balance between the many and radically different mentors that I have invited.

Although of course I'm asking your intervention as a favor, your efforts won't be forgotten, and a reward will be offered. Please just tell me something that is in my grasp to offer you and I will comply to the best of my capabilities.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: Due to lack of information, the letter is written in common, diplomatic english)
_________________________________________________________________

To: Istari of the Stars, Emperor Mephet'ran
from: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Again I have the pleasure to talk with you, although this time distance and circumstances have forced me to write you a letter and not to chat with you about the issue that I want to present to you. However, I'm quite sure that you, my liberator, protector, guide and advisor to my people will be quite pleased to read the news that I'm bringing to you today.

For sure you do remember the Heir, Princess Aliria. Well, I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of her. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

Of course that you were one of the names that first rang inside my mind as soon as the idea of a mentor for my precious descendant came into my thoughts. I have sensed and seen your powers, and of course that you have shown your wisdom to me many times, and I'm sure that few beings in the universe could compare to your infinite greatness. So I came up with the idea of humbly inviting you to accept the offer of teaching Aliria a part of your wisdom and memories.

Of course you already have my highest regards, but you also can now expect a reward for your efforts, as I know that you have more to do and think in your complicated life than just take care of a kid. Just tell me what your wishes whisper you, and I'll try to satisfy your desires.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in Quenya, as the Everqueen is conscious of the Ct'an knowledge of elves)
_________________________________________________________________

To: Lady Sirithil, Elentári of the Noldor
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

For the first time I'm writing a letter to you, Queen of the Stars, over an issue of the most important degree. For a long time I have regarded you as an equal, a rival, and a friend, and I hold you as the beacon that keeps elvenkind together in these times of strife when we still fight the enemy of old times.

I'm disturbing you with the news that have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of her. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

When I thought of the possible candidates for her mentors, I remembered that you were raised seeing the light of the first trees, and that light still gleams bright inside your heart, mind and spirit. I'm sure that you still can share those memories and wisdom from those old and forgotten times with the child, to make her stronger, and to show her the real elven way. To instruct her about her ancestors and about our own history, from the eyes that have seen it all from the beginning. So I'm asking you as a friend to be one of the mentors of the Princess, for the sake of the Empire and Elvenkind.

I'm sure you have quite interest in turning her into a wonderful woman, due to the interest that Aliria and your little Prince seems to have in each other, and the chances that that "interest" turns into something more everlasting. This is your chance to give your son the best he could have in the entire universe, and to prepare Aliria to be the right maiden for him.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in Quenya)

OOC:

Thanks for your efforts, I'll post the answers to the first responses soon. I'm trying to bring the best quality I can offer to this thread, so sorry if the answering speed sometimes grows slow. I stilll owe another letter to Nathicana and to Tor Yvresse, and I'll try to make them as soon as I can. Again, thanks for your patience. By the way, Tarasovka, I enjoyed your post. Is truly a shame that you can't join.

To: Emperor Devon Treznor
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

I salute you, Emperor, in hopes of wishing you good tidings. Today I'm writing this short missive to inform you and invite you to a plan of mine, and although we have never seen each other, the rumors of your outstanding feats and display of amazing political skills in manouvering to counter the efforts of the Crawling Dark from Angband with no doubt place you as one of the most skilled politicians or courtiers in the entire galaxy.

And that brings me to explain the main reason of this letter. I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

I know that, being a complete stranger to you, this could be odd, but due to your reputation I would be really glad if you could find some time to spare to join the staff of mentors for the Princess, as I'm quite sure that you have more than a trick under your sleeve, and that those tricks are with no doubt the work of a genius in the field of diplomacy.

Of course that you will think that sharing your genius with a simpleton youngster it's not exactly the best way to occupy your important time, so that's why I have thought in offering you a reward, anything that your mind can imagine and it is in my hands to give you could be achieved.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in common, diplomatic english)

A short, indefinably ugly man blinks in surprise as he reads the hand drafted missive, written in flowing script. He leans back in his well-worn chair and sips as his coffee reflectively. Well. There's something you don't see every day. Damn, and I thought I could lay it on. I certainly can't ignore this.

He puts the letter down carefully and pushes a button on his desk. "Alex, check my schedule. How flexible are we?"

There's a pause as his personal aide rushes to check on the request. "Nothing we can't rearrange today, if necessary Your Majesty. The rest of the month is pretty dicey. You've got meetings with a dozen Ministers on top of your regular routine, and that Council Meeting regarding United Indiastan. Not to mention the impending acceptance of Imnsvale into the Triumvirate."

Treznor sits back and grumbles. Dammit, he's right. There's too much work for me to go haring off. Ben's got enough on his plate as it is, especially with this new project from Mikhael. There's got to be a way, though.

He shakes his head. "All right, don't worry about it. But see what you can do to lighten the load as soon as possible." Maybe Nath wasn't so crazy to install Cesare after all.

"Anything I should be aware of, Majesty?"

Treznor grins. Alex's curiosity could be explained professionally, but he knows the young man is bubbling to know what's on his mind. "I might need to make a diplomatic visit to Aelosia. I've received a personal request from their Queen. Hmm...see how much of my load can be handled by telepresence. Our communications are secure enough that the risk should be minimal. Run it past Ben to see what he says."

"At once, Your Majesty."

It occurs to him that he's finally gotten used to people addressing him as royalty. He isn't sure if he's happy about it. Grumbling again, he fetches a clean sheet of paper and a ballpoint pen.
Queen Aelosia,

Your reputation for beauty is clearly surpassed only by your wisdom and flair for diplomacy. It would be my sincere pleasure to assist your Heir in furthering her education. Unfortunately, my duties preclude me from making an immediate appearance. If Your Highness can be patient, I should be able to arrange my schedule to accommodate your needs. Once I've arrived, I'll still need to oversee certain details for my Empire, but I believe it should be possible for me to accomplish that while still devoting plenty of time to Aliria. I'll make sure your security is given ample opportunity to inspect and pass the equipment I'll be bringing with me to make that feat possible.

I look forward to the opportunity to meet you in person and see for myself the beauty that the stories tell about you.

Devon Treznor
Emperor
http://www.pwfc.org/images/gallery/smtorso3.jpg

Alkanphel arched a brow. In front of him, a few steps down from the top of the dias, Imperator Marshal Janos Hasek stood, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Very interesting," mused the Maia, his hand reaching for a stylus which lay on a nearby endtable. "When did you get this?" he asks, still reading over the missive.

"Just today, my Lord. I brought it here as soon as I read it.. figured it would require your immediate attention."

Alkanphel nodded concurrently. "Yes, that it most certainly does," he muses, smiling faintly. "It shall greatly interest me to see who else she's decided to invite for this..." he pauses, folding the letter and laying it on the endtable. "Job."

Janos grinned. "I take it you're going, then?"

Alkanphel signs for a page, who promptly appears, gifting Alkanphel with a blank sheet of paper. "Oh yes, of course," he says, begninning to write. "I wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this," he adds with a twisted grin. He pens the response in Sindarin, hoping the irony wasn't lost on the Elven Queen.

***

Queen Aelosia,

I'll not be so bold as to claim that your missive didn't surprise me immensely, for it has been quite a time since such a benign exchange could be initiated between the Elves and I. Fortunately for you and your Princess I'm at something of an.. intereting point in my life, and the usual hate and rage that accompanies my interactions with the Elves is curiously absent at this time. In light of this, I would be honored to attend, and instruct Princess Aliria what I know concerning the art of warfare, since it would appear that this is my strength, and thus, the most valuable thing I can offer to the aspiring Queen.

I must also admit that is very interesting and indeed, nigh-on unheard of for one in such a standing as yours to abdicate their rightful post as ruler. Given the nature of your race, you could in fact quite easily rule your realm eternally, as I'm sure the Elentarí Sirithil plans on doing. If I may be so bold as to ask; why?

Lord Alkanphel
High Warlord of Lord Melkor's Imperium, First Counselor to Melkor Himself, and CEO of the Chronos Corporation
http://upl.silentwhisper.net/uplfolders/upload5/allen4.jpg

To: Speaker to Animals
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Greetings <snip>

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: Due to lack of information, the letter is written in common, diplomatic english [OOC: That or Arabic. 'S all good. --Scolo])
Speaker accepts the bit of slightly yellowed paper from Senior Civil Servant Wantanabe, just back from the local mosque's supply store, with a nod as he settles the various accoutrements of writing on his desk. Easily extending a single obsidian claw from his right index finger, he dips it momentarily in the black ink before beginning to write in a surprisingly calligraphic cursive English.

To the Aelosia, Everqueen of the Sacred Sindarin Empire of Aelosia,

I am honored that you believe us to be potential mentors for your daughter. Good education is mutual, with both sides learning and teaching in mutual respect, and we value learning highly. Therefore, I accept your offer. Hopefully I will be able to compliment the teachings of the other mentors you invited.

Senior Diplomatic Officer Magnus Hesche will be joining me as a liason to our International Relations Section. If there is any information you or your daughter wish to request from us, he can expedite your requests. It is also noted that teachers, like many others, work best in teams, so we will be nearly inseperable; he will act as my assistant in this matter.

Payment is of no concern. Education and learning is an ideal of ours, not done for profit. It is simply done. If it eases your mind to provide compensation, I will not reject it; in the same light, to be true to our ideals I will not demand it.

<Signature in the dots-and-commas script of kzints'ung>
Speaker-Rrit, Supreme Emperor of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra
Patriarch of the Kzinti People

The script swirled with portents; visions that danced just beyond the reach of the Lord of the Silmellon. A breeze caught at the edges of the missive, taught the paper to whisper staccato responses to the whispering trees of Lisselillassië and its harsh voice made Olorndil flinch.

A delicate affair, he mused, and a dangerous time for the young heir; shaped by so many who would use her for their own goals.

Calanto would advise him against it, Olorndil knew. Yet the Chief Councillor weighed everything too finely for the Lord of the Silmellon's taste. It was true that certain events would be demanding his attention in the coming days, but Olorndil could not forget the face of Aliria herself. There is a bond between the Aelosians and the Silmellon that can not be denied, Olorndil knew the decision was made, it is nothing to provide every aide to our kin.

On honey-coloured sheaves; Ornemalin leaves lustred gold, he penned a quick reply, the eyes of Aelosia rising prominently in his mind's eye.


To Our Cousin and Our Dearest Aelosia,
Never will a call between our people go unanswered, never will aide be denied. We are ready to provide what wisdom and knowledge we might to our fair cousin and her heir.

Olorndil.

Archbishop Nataka looked over the correspondence from Aelosia and blinked. It was… nonstandard, to say the least. Not precisely a diplomatic matter, not exactly a relations with states matter.

Frowning, he set it aside to percolate subconsciously until later. By midafternoon, when he got back to that pile, an idea had bubbled up. He wrote a brief note, attached it to a copy of the correspondence, and put it in the packet for the Holy Father’s daily briefing in the morning.

The next morning, he explained briefly to the Pontiff. “The Church has been requested to send a tutor to Aelosia, to teach the Princess Aliria the basics of Christianity and its history and cultural influence among humans. An interesting opportunity, but not precisely diplomacy. I suggest we turn this one over to the Jesuits, let Martaglini send one of his brighter pedagogues to deal with it.”

Leo nodded. “A sound notion. Just be sure he understands the delicacy of the situation, and sends someone with appropriate, ah, prestige and diplomatic skills.”

The Sostituto smiled. “Why else do we suffer the Jesuits to continue to exist, if not for such purposes?”

Leo snorted. “In poor taste, Tenda.”

“Of course, Holiness. I am rebuked.”

But both men were smiling when the briefing ended.

The next day, the appointment crossed Nataka’s desk. His brows went up. Bishop Ketsu Takamori? Well there was certainly plenty of prestige and diplomacy there. But did he have the theological chops? He looked over the man’s dossier. Ahh… Doctorate of Theology from the Gregorian, among other credentials.

Takamori was of an old family, a family associated with the samurai class, a family that still wielded considerable power and wealth. He’d been educated by Jesuits, had found his vocation early in life, and pursued it with samurai dedication. He was a rising star in the Society of Jesus, and there were those who had him pegged as a future Father General. He had an appreciation for protocol, as well as the niceties of diplomacy. A good pick. Nataka initialed the memo, and forwarded it back for action.

Later that day, he signed the formal response to Aelosia, advising them of Bishop Takamori’s appointment and arrival.

To: The Holy Vatican See
From: Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Is indeed a pleasure to me to finally start to write this letter, and it will also a pleasure to finish it, although nothing could achieve the pleasure of having a response. Today I'm directing this message to you as, although I don't share your religious ideas, I highly respect the christianism as a religion and as a philosophy of life.

To finally reach the interesting point, I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

I don't know if it would be a nuisance for you to send some kind of preceptor or teacher to the Princess, as I want her to be teached in the way of your religion, both because of its importance in the human world, and because I find the precepts and teachings of your prophet worth learning for any compassionate people.

Of course that I'm not asking such a huge favor without offering anything in exchange, so if I can offer you any concessions regarding your faith, or any reward inside my reach I'll offer them, as this issue is for the highest importance to both myself and the Empire.

I hope that you could accept my offer, and I'm eager to get your answer...
(Note: This letter is written in latin)


To: Olorndil, Lord of the Silmellon
From: Aelosia, Light of the Sindarin

Hello, Darling. I have missed you a lot, and I'm eager to see you again, but today something more delicate than our current emotional involvement occupy my mind and my feelings. You know that I think of you as the last elf that truly values our old ways as a race.

Dear, I don't know if this decision will prove to be painful or to be strange for you, but I have decided to stand down from my throne and abdict in favor of my descendant, the Princess Aliria. And I have also decided that she is not ready for that role yet, and that for a real preparation she must have foreign teachers and mentors.

As you might imagined, I thought of you, or any of your lovely people, as ones of the better mentors I could find for the little girl. You embody the best qualities of the elven people, and I want you to teach her our history and our traditions, because I know that you would do it even better than everybody, including me.

If in your mind have anything to ask me, I'll be willing to do anything in my reach to reward you.

Take care, and as I said before, I'm eager to meet you again...
(Note: This letter, of course, is written in quenya)

[tag]

and...

I was perfectly aware of that just after I posted, then I had a choice of leaving a healthy looking [tag] which could be interpreted as a old die hard habbit, or a blank box (the result of a deleted message) with my name in.

In either case my mark is on the thread. In part I want Aelosia to know that I'm watching the thread anyways but I'm still working out what part I may have in this, if any, in IRC.

Further, you have added a OOC post to tell me that I have placed a [tag] in a good thread and that I don't need to anymore, I find this a little ironic.

To her Majesty Everqueen Aelosia, Greetings,

The Emperor has received your letter, and wishes me to inform you that he would be delighted to send not only one full-time tutor to Aliria, but also, as often as his (busy) schedule permits, himself as well.

While this is hardly a small request, he assented to it without hesitation in the hope that it would provide a better understanding between our peoples in the future.

Humbly yours,
Elash Mîraglariel, Adjutant of the Emperor

-----

Eläcet Finlaurë,

I recently received a message from Aelosia, about tutoring Aliria (needless to say my answer was a yes, ), and I was wondering have you received a similar request?

Aric Eleanah
Mephet'ran

(OOC: I got the TG Aelosia, is it too late to join?)

President Mark Albert winced slightly as he sorted the latest batch of reports on many different topics. His right arm still bothered him, even though it had been close to two months since a bullet had been there. He was lucky to have use of the arm at all, and it still hurt a little sometimes. It could've been a lot worse though, and he was thankful that pain and a little restricted mobility were all the negative effects he had suffered.

The President's office was very well appointed, with a large window looking out on the several blocks of buildings that made up the central government complex. From here he could see the guards now posted on every rooftop to watch for trouble, and the added police patrols going about their business on the quiet tree-shaded lanes where only officials of Glorious Humanity's government were allowed to tread. He couldn't help sighing. The view depressed him, a mute admonishment that Glorious Humans could still be as violently human as anyone else.

There was a knock on the polished oak door to his office, bringing him back to the present. "Enter!" he called.

"Guten Tag der Herr Präsident, wie fühlen Sie?" Minister Frank Pierce greeted Albert as he entered the office with a letter in his hand.

"Alle ist gut, außer meinem Arm und Ihrem Deutsch," Albert answered, chuckling.

"My German is just fine thanks, I've been speaking it to natives for the last few days and nobody complained," Pierce shot back with a grin as he dropped into a leather chair opposite the President.

Albert leaned back into his own very comfortable executive chair. "Maybe they were being diplomatic."

"Maybe," Pierce agreed.

"So how was Lavenrunz?" Albert asked then.

"Cold country, stiff people," Pierce replied. "Nice once you get to know them though. I can see what Thomas likes about it."

"You mean besides the Empress?" Albert raised a brow.

"Oh I think he's starting to look for other interesting things about Lavenrunz, a few at least," Pierce told him. "He was very miffed that he can't speak German yet though. I think he wants to seduce Aurora in her own language."

"Oh, to be that young again," Albert joked.

"So curious, so hormonal, and so convinced you know everything," Pierce agreed. "Ignorance is bliss." They both laughed, then Albert looked at the letter in Pierce's hand.

"Who's that from?" he inquired.

"The Aelosians, if you can believe that," Pierce answered. "For you. Hence why I brought it here instead of opening it myself."

"You're not curious?" Albert asked.

"About your mail? What in the world is ever interesting in your mail?" Pierce answered. Albert just shook his head with a grin, withdrawing a letter opener from his desk and slicing the envelope open. He withdrew the letter inside and read it carefully. His eyes widened a little, and he whistled softly.

"What?" Pierce asked.

"It's from their Queen," Albert answered. "They want mentors for the Princess Aliria. They're sending these invitations to anyone they think will be a good teacher." He looked up at Pierce.

There was a long pause. "You're not serious," Pierce said after several seconds.

"I'll have to rearrange my schedule a little, but I think I can manage a few days." Albert looked at Pierce. "You have objections, I take it."

"One," Pierce started. "We have very tenuous relations with these people. Two, there's already been one attempt on your life, if you travel a lot there may be more. Three, regarding travel, we don't even have the means to reach their world unassisted."

"One," Albert countered. "This could be a great way to improve relations. Two, there will be no more attempts. The cause for it is gone, remember? Three, I think I can contact a friend of mine to arrange transport." Actually, Duchess Celestrianna Paelisi might have been a little more than just a friend, but the President wasn't about to tell Pierce that. "I'll write a response, you send it, then we'll iron out the details."

Pierce sighed. Albert made sense about improving relations, and it was also clear that he'd made up his mind. "Very well."

**********************************************************

To her Majesty the Everqueen,

Though I confess to being surprised at this invitation, I am profoundly honored to be considered for this, and will happily impart everything that might be of value to her Highness. If I could be given some idea of what you particularly wish her to know, I will arrange accordingly, and make arrangements for transport to your Craftworld.

Sincerely,
Mark Albert
President
Federation of Glorious Humanity

[OOC: Looks like I'm not the only one to be away o.0 ]

((Well I suspect it would be best to continue))

The Sacriface appeared in Orbit of Mars seperate from the other Vessels orbiting the area, as it arrived a mass evacuation of the vessel could be made out, as crew departed until only a skeleton force remained onboard, then things began to be moved into the ship. Finnaly all was in readiness and it sent a single message to the Aelosian ground control.

We are here, direct me to where you wish us to be for these lessons. And I shall depart. Know that we are the Infinity Matrix of the Sacriface, and repersent the Eternity Matrix, know that I am Telgorthrind. It was a strange message not least for the changes between the plural and the singular, but because it seemed to have no accent.

That is not to say it sounded as through a computer had put the words together, that in itself would be accent, rather it had none, and yet something unplacable seemed to lie behind the voice.

The holomessage was contained in a little, carefully crafted mini disk with runes carved all over it, along with the right device and projector to see it properly...It was sent to every candidate that accepted the offer of the Aelosian Everqueen, guarded in a lovely box of carved wood decorated with mithril carvings.

The transmission started with a beautiful panoramic display of the Craftworld from the bridge of one of the many ships orbiting around them. The planetoid was gleaming against the endless void of the space, and the bright of many stars surrounded it, as one of the flagships in charge of its defense orbitted behind it.

Suddenly the image traveled with a visual effect to the surface of the Craftworld at high speed, although it was detailed enough to show the huge and transparent domes holding wonderful palaces and the most delicate gardens, the busy streets with grav cars and bikes racing through the air, the huge skycrapers pointing to the outer space and the artificial skies.

Finally the camera stopped on the huge form of a dark blue dome, as big as a metropolis. Inside a lush forest grew wild, and in the middle of it a clean hill with a palace built over it, a really exquisite show of architecture. Tall towers of the most diverse kind were built inside the white walls that surrounded the entire complex. some of them were tall, with black marble gleaming against the artificial light of the fake sun over the also fake sky of the dome. Others were white, crowned by golden and silvery chapitels. The entire palace, surrounded by walls, was indeed impressive, a match for any of the wide known castles and palaces of human royalty. In the huge gardens wild animals, both real and even some mythological were running around, as birds of prey raced through the air, circling around the structures. Maidens sang in benches as they were accompanied by lute playing minstrels, and several nobles chased their hounds, who were tracking the game in an old fashioned hunt. In a far corner, two tiny figures could be seen practicing the old art of fencing, their bright clothes almost making them looking as a pair of butteflies trying to stab each other with needles.

With another fast movement of the camera the image made a dive in to the grandious door of the palace, where both the Everqueen Aelosia and the Princess Aliria were standing, surrounded by an entire staff of nobles, advisors, and attendants.

The Queen, dressed in an almost fabled outfit resembling one of the goddesses of the elven pantheon, called Valar by them, was standing with her right hand raised and held before her in a traditional elven salute. Her shoulders were covered by a grey cloak, the grey cloak that was the symbol of the royalty of the ancient Doriathrim. Aliria, standing one step behind the Queen and a little to her right, was dressed in a similar way, only missing the golden adornments and the fantastic circlet in Aelosia's forehead, substituted by just a tiny line of mithril encircling her head.

"Greetings, friend. If you are watching this broadcast is because you have accepted my humble offer of coming here and be a mentor for my heir. I'm already thankful for only the gest of accepting it, and I know that both me and my country will have a debt with you for that", said the Queen with a smile on her lips. "I'll introduce to all of you your future pupil and disciple. This is the Princess Aliria D'Hyru, Heir to the Empire of the Sindar".

When the last words ended, the Princess took a step forward, and as the camera decided to focus a close up in her features, she blushed with intensity, her cheeks turning a deep crimson color. As the camera first captioned her features, she was looking at the ground as consumed by shame and guilt, yet a second later she raised her gaze and locked her stare with the camera with an amazing for ce of will, eyes almost blazing out of determination, although the moment was brief, and she quickly blushed again, and looked at the queen with admiration.

"This is the dome of Edoriath. Here you will have all the commodities and pleasures we could offer to you, and this one will be the training grounds for your precious and valued lessons. We all will be waiting for all of you in our land. I hope you'll visit us soon", the Queen ended, as a divine music covered a fading away until, first the palace, then the dome, and even the craftworld dissapeared to show a beautiful scene of the outer space...

"Looks like you got a live one there, ztkakshtar Speeks," Razak says with a wry smile as he slaps the kzintosh on his broad back. "Good luck."

"I am not leaving yet," Speaker says with feigned annoyance, "I should see when I am expected."

"Ah, but initiative is good in a teacher! Shows that you're interested in the pupil and will go out of your way to take efforts to teach."

Speaker shrugs, then starts closing the open folders on his desk. "Is Hesche back from dealing with Feline, yet?"

The silver-haired man chuckles. "Just stepped off the shuttle--and before you ask, no, he doesn't know."

The kzintosh flaps his bat-winged ears. "Excellent. Perhaps there will be an advantage to leaving immediately."

* - * - *

"What?" The apex of Hesche's eyebrow shoots up a good centimeter as he gawks with surprise at Speaker. The 'tosh, still chuckling with his breath whiffing from his nostrils, puts one brawny hand around the diplomatic officer's bicep and starts walking towards the elevator door, still open from Hesche's recent entrance.

"The IntRelate Section never sleeps, Magnus. Now come along."

The tall human--still dwarfed by the kzintosh--sighs and stops dragging his feet, simply trying to keep from being swept off them by Speaker-Rrit's inexorable tugging. "Yes, sir."

* - * - *

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbtiger-1clock-dyn.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tiger-1clock-dyn.jpg)
Normally, diplomatic courier duty is reserved for corvettes or perhaps Lokis with tesseract pods. Full capital ships, especially Scolopendran ones, are not designed well for diplomacy. It has been said, especially by Treznorian citizens quoting parodic science fiction, that the intentionally functional bricks and simple curves of Scolopendran-designed warships are not ships to be put on the mantle or in the umbrella stand; they are ships that are supposed to go out and make someone miserable. They have a definite good end and a bad end, and anyone on the bad end needs to know it--no matter how many protrusions or blackened bits it takes. Of course, fighting in a three-dimensional battlespace, the only acceptable good end is inside the vessel itself.

Still, this is a special case. Instead of carting around diplomatic officers or even Advisors in the relatively secure Earth-Saturn corridors, a Supreme Emperor was involved, heading for an extremely well-defended craftworld (of which, it was to be understood, actually being allowed to know where it is was quite the honor) of a nation while cordial enough, still an unknown factor. Add into this that said Supreme Emperor is also the sociospiritual leader of a decent subset of the Scolopendran population, and that a corvette, while perhaps having the speed, simply doesn't have the durability to survive if things go downhill...

And so, the Scolopendran WarShip Medium Cruiser Kabutomushi--the Tiger-class medium cruiser wasn't as obnoxiously beweaponed (at least obviously) as, say, the truly nasty Grendel frigate--steps through the looking-glass twice in the same instant to reemerge in reality a respectful distance from the craftworld, well outside of any reasonable engagement ranges a few light-minutes out. Decently fast, decently armored, decently armed like a cruiser should be, but running on low alert and with the understanding that all that caution would not necessarily be necessary... but being idealistic does not necessarily mean having to take too many chances either.

In Kabutomushi's command room--standard design, with a semicircle of officer stations centered around a spherical strategic situation indicator that hovers in the fore of the rectangular room (short sides fore and aft), two-tiered technician gallery in the back to coordinate the ship's systems, and all buried well inside the armored hull--Speaker leans over the usually unoccupied 'jump seat' that Hesche inhabits, idly hanging over the man as they both look at the telescope images from the monitor.

"Well, here we are, sir," Colonel Magallanes says with a little nervous smile. The Scolopendran AeroSpace Directorate wasn't usually responsible for courier duty; that would either go to the TYCS Corvette Patrol Force or the Civilian Defense Corps. New and unusual missions, no matter how mundane, have a tendency to highten the senses--and the good Colonel isn't one for thrill rides.

Speaker-Rrit nods. "Good. Now just contact them, make sure we are welcome, and we will be on our way."

* - * - *

Colonel Magallanes looks into the camera, looking like the usual officer in his clean but not immaculate green-and-black naval double-breasted Class A's, burnished steel centipede "S" over a nametag of the same material on the right breast, collection of square ribbons on the left breast, and gold six pips-and-bars on his green shoulderboards. He himself has a dark Central American complexion, with a face that looks prone to smiling which makes his current serious demeanor look perhaps a little askew, graying black hair in a short military buzz-cut and quick, intelligent eyes that seem to smile no matter what he does.

"This is Colonel Miguel Magallanes of the Scolopendran medium cruiser Kabutomushi, transporting Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit and Senior Diplomatic Officer Magnus Hesche to the Craftworld. We come at the request of the Everqueen Aelosia."

He breaks into a much natural looking smile. "We've been directed to the dome of Edoriath, but we figure you've got reception standards and whatnot. We'll just hold position 'till you decide what to do with us--just respond on this frequency and we'll follow whatever proper procedure you send."

The screen goes blue showing the Scolopendran AeroSpace Directorate insignia--a steel S-shaped centipede and a similarly curved blue infinity symbol at right angles over a small yellow disk, forming something reminiscent to the propellors of old aviation insignia, all over large dark red A with a smaller blue "S" and "D" resting on each of its legs--in the upper half of the screen, with a simple three-line legend underneath it finishing the signature screen, a standard of communication since the days of lightspeed communications lag.

Colonel Miguel Magallanes
Commanding Officer, SWS-MCR Kabutomushi
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

As they reviewed the message for Telgorthind it was a strange experiance, for he saw it twice, once through the way his 'Voice' experianced it and the other through the sensors of the ship, his body. All told it was through the emotions of his Voice that he truely enjoyed it, got a true taste of it, for to his own eyes it appeared flat, almost unreal. The closest way to explain it would be, watching a movie of the day, on a black and white TV, much of the undertext was missing. Still he gave the order to the 'Crew'of the vessel. And the Sacriface slipped away from Mars and to the Aelosian Craftworld.

The Sacriface was unlike any other Kionash vessel internally at least, before departing from Mars the last modifications had been completed, and now few Living walked it's corridors, rather they had been replaced with Modified Wraithguard. The weapons removed, and other slight changes made, it was now the dead that crewed the ship, as it was the dead that commanded it. As Telgorthrind had gained greater control of the ship he had came to replace it's command structure, and demanded a crew he could command easily, such had been provided, as the Council had had little choice.

Now the only Living on the Ship where there to provide Anchors for the Wraithpilots, and to go where the machines that housed the bodies of the true crew could not. And of course to provide maintenence to the Shells. One exception only existed, the 'Voice' Of Telgorthrind was there to ease communication for the ship, a Seer whose one role was to communicate withy Telgorthrind away from the ship.

As it arrived at the Aelosian Craftworld it was therefore his voice that was transmitted. 'This is the Flagship Sacriface transporting Seer Baldtrais Vocie of Telgorthrind and Telgorthrind we have came as requested, Obviously Telgorthrind is unable to go to Edoriath but I will serve as his intermediary onboard the Craftworld. We await further instructions'

(OOC: Gee, do you think this might be co-written?)

President Albert was in his office again, sorting through yet another stack of paperwork, the curse of all officials. Mostly he was making a last-minute check for any urgent business before he left. This task was taking longer than one might think, as he was moving a little more slowly than usual, and not using his right arm much.

A knock at the door to his office interrupted him. "Enter!" he called, looking up from the papers. The caller was a President's Guard, who saluted before speaking. "Sir, Duchess Celestrianna Paelisi has arrived." Albert smiled for the first time that day and nodded to the man. "Alright, show her in."

Celestrianna entered the room with a bright smile in her face, her features sporting a cover of delicate makeup, not exactly common for the Aelosian elves, who preferred not to hide their unearthly smooth and healthy skin. Her dress, although simple, was both a provocation and a delicacy, sporting an immense variety of different grades of blue.

"So...Are you already? I'm finally here for you,” she said, staring deeply at Albert, then moving her eyes down to the paperwork in front of him.

"Ready enough," Albert replied, standing up from behind his desk and smiling back at her. The guard departed at a quick nod from the President, though he paused to give the elf one more look. His raised brow said everything.

"Why is he leaving?" Celestrianna asked with a truly impressed and naive impression in her face as the guard left.

Albert laughed. "Because I'd rather other people weren't around." His expression turned serious. "There are plenty of people in this country who don't approve of any contact with nonhumans. The last thing you need is somebody muttering nasty comments under their breath." The smile returned. "Besides, do you really want everything we say being general barracks knowledge as soon as that man goes off his shift?"

Celestrianna sighed a bit, and nodded slowly to Albert. "Damn racists...But you're right, darling, and truly this is a happy occasion, so let's avoid uncomfortable situations and chat. We haven't see each other in some time."

Albert nodded. "Far too long, dear." He relaxed noticeably now that the guard was out of earshot, and came around the desk to embrace her. She noticed that he winced a little when he brought his right arm up to put it around her. "How have you been?" he asked.

"Better than you, as it seems. I don't want you to move that arm of yours again,” she said, relaxing her right side, yet squeezing his body with her left arm a little

Albert shrugged. "I take it you heard about my little run-in then? Well, only way to get strength back into my arm is use it." He released her and stepped back a pace to look her over. The obvious additions to her appearance were not lost on him.

"I heard about it, and I was really worried. As I see it, my last holomessage didn't arrive at its destination.” Celestrianna shrugged a bit and extended her hand to place it over his shoulder. "I just want you to take care of yourself."

Albert reached up to take her hand in his, then brought her hand to his lips. "You are a cure for many ailments."

"Am I?. Glad to hear that", said Celestrianna approaching him and placing a hand over his cheek. "So. Why have you decided to join the staff of mentors?"

"The best way to learn is to teach," Albert smiled. "And of course, going to the Craftworld gives me a chance to spend more time with a beautiful elven woman who has been haunting my thoughts since first I met her."

Celestrianna rolled her eyes, and smiled even more broadly to the man, kissing him tenderly in the lips. "You will never stop to flatter me, don't you?"

"Am I really so bad at it?" Albert asked, returning the kiss. Then he kissed her again.

"No, not bad at all. You're good as you always have been", she said, turning suddenly for the door. "I take it as you're ready to leave? Or should I help you with your luggage?"

Albert shook his head. "No, I'm ready. You don't need to help, I travel light. I wouldn't dream of asking you anyway." He stepped ahead of her to open the door, then followed her out. "My suitcase should be sent to the shuttle as per my instructions." He walked alongside her, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He was suddenly tenser again, like he'd been when she'd first entered the office and the guard was still watching. It was a very subtle thing, a slight tightening of his eyes, a little more erect posture, a more measured step. It was there though. Back out where his people could see him, the President's walls were back up.

Celestrianna smiled when she saw the slight change of his appearance, and leaned over him to whisper in his ear. "Always the tough guy outside, I guess. May this little maiden ask your permission to walk by taking your hand?"

Albert sighed. She didn't understand. Well, he'd have time to explain it to her on the trip. He smiled and offered her his arm - his left, not the customary right.

Celestrianna took the arm gratefully and started to walk at his side with a careful pace, as if she were fearful Albert could trip and fall to the ground. "We will be ok once we arrive to the Craftworld."

Albert nodded. "I know. How long will the trip take?"

"It depends", said Celestrianna with a giggle, leaning her head against his shoulder again. "It depends.”

"On what?" Albert asked.

“On how much you want it to last, of course. How many times you have taken a romantic trip through the stars?" she said, placing her hands over her hips

"Never, actually," he admitted.

"Then you should try to enjoy, maybe. Don't you think?" she said, now with a kind of...sexy winking in her left eye

"That's a good idea. I think I shall," he replied. There was currently no one in the hallway with them, and thus he felt like he could relax a little again. "Particularly with the stunning company I am keeping right now."

Celestrianna laughed lightheartedly. "Yes, you should. And I have a few surprises for you once we arrive to the shuttle. Let's call them aces up in my sleeve"

"Aces up your sleeve?" Albert laughed. "I didn't know you played poker."

"I have never played it, but I have read about it. It looks really fun and interesting, mostly when you bluff or cheat", she said, taking his arm again, and smiling broadly

"You know," Albert said with a wink. "There's a version where the players play for clothes instead of money."
"Yes, and why they would want the clothes of another person?. Is that a version for people in misery?" she said, covering her mouth with one hand

Albert burst into laughter. An office door behind them popped open and a secretary stuck her head out, staring at the President. After a moment she vanished back into the office.

Celestrianna stared at Albert in astonishment, then to the secretary, then to Albert again..."Is the misery funny to you or am I missing something here?"

Albert chuckled and shook his head. "No, no dear. The point of playing for clothes is to get one's opponent nude. It's usually the precursor to other things that happen once someone has lost."

"Oh, I see, so the punishment of the game is making the opponent to suffer from cold as he is nude. Now I understand", she said nodding wisely. "But.....the loser dies of hypothermia afterwards or what?"

Albert groaned and smacked his forehead. Then he winced because he used his right arm.

"Oh, I said I didn't want you to move that arm, Albert", she said, trying to support him and caressing the back of his neck a little, with a soft touch that relaxed the sensations of pain.

"Celestrianna," he explained slowly, his face reddening. "The stripping version is supposed to be a sexual game. Now I'm sorry I mentioned it. We'd better get to the ship."

The woman blushed, and whispered something in Sindarin, using a really low voice, lowering her head, she finally nodded and resumed her walk

Albert was tempted to ask what she'd said, but decided not to. With an effort he got his face under control, and they continued.

"Understood, Colonel Magallanes, Sire. The protocols are open for visitors right now. You may attach the cruiser to one of our bays or proceed to a lower orbit to send a transport or a shuttle. This Craftworld and its surroundings are now open as a friendly area to you. From the High Command of the Fleet, good tidings, and wonderful ship you have out there, Colonel. Please enjoy the show", said a voice through the communicator.

The Admiral Hyral closed the comlink and leaned over another console on the main control room, and opened another communication channel to the launch bays. "Release the dragons. It will be a wonderful surprise for them. We need to impress our visitors a tiny bit, just as they have impressed us", said the ArchDuke of the Navy with a smile. "I hope they won't feel threatened, it's just a show after all".

"What about the eldar ship, Kithail?. That thing is impressive, bigger then any of our own Voistalkers. For sure that thing can easily destroy your beloved Nimloth", said a bulky elf behind the admiral, probably the biggest elf in the entire Empire, dressed in a black and dark brown armor with the blazon of a closed and gleaming hand in the center of the wraithbone powered breastplate, over his impressive muscular and built body a head protected by a helmet covering his features.

"No, Marshall. I suppose it can, but it would be a hell of a battle. It's a shame that such a challenge won't ever happen. Remember that Telgonthrind, one of my most apprecciated mentors is now the conscience of that ship. I would never face him in battle, or raise my hand against him", said the Admiral, suddenly regaining a regal and proud pose.

"Not even under orders from the Queen?", answered the cavernous voice of the other elf, in the sound depicted a curious smile, although the helmet covered the Marshall's mouth.

"No even under her orders. Telgonthrind is one of the beings I respect most. I'll send a message to his Voice, as he calls himself, to ask permission to board his ship. Of course that this little conversation about Telgonthrind never took place, Marshal, no?", said the Admiral, opening a comlink and winking to his big old friend.

"You're walking into a dangerous path, Admiral, but I'll respect you. Just take care, my friend. That eldar ship has a reputation of being unpredictable", said the another one, leaving the room.

"To the Sacriface, this is Supreme Admiral Kithail Hyral, ArchDuke of the Empire and former pupil of Telgonthrind. Please procceed to the coordinates I'm sending you. I'm also asking permission to board the ship. I want to share some time with my former Master, if he agrees", said the elf in a really respectful tone through the communicator device.

Minutes later, myriads of dots of light left the Craftworld from each of the hundreds of the Craftworld's Launch Bays, easily being detected by any of the systems of the Sacriface or the KabutoMoshi. Soon the dots, looking like extremely fast and manouvrable light starfighters, raced towards the KabutoMoshi, grouping themselves into squadrons and attempting to surround the entire cruiser from all sides.

As they approached, the fully opened their solar wingsails, reflecting the light of outer space in hundreds of different colors, gleaming like a swarm of fireflies in the middle of the void, starting to spin and twirl like indeed some strange kind of outer space insects.

A sensors tecnician begins to jog his leg. "Fighters inbound, sir..."

Colonel Magallanes leans back into his seat, arching his fingers. "How many?"

The operator frowns. "Lots, sir."

"Lots is not a number, Spaceman."

"More than our point defense would care to deal with, sir." The technician rests his elbows on the console, knee bobbing as the arch of his foot spasms, toe of his rubber-soled boot firmly on the metal grilled awning that makes the floor of the second level of the technicians' gallery. "To their credit, they look light and their weapons are cold."

"They are simply an escort," Speaker-Rrit offers, relaxed as he leans over Magnus' jump seat. "My recommendation is that we simply accept the escort."

Miguel Magallanes smiles weakly. "Combat crew, sir. Rule number seventy six: never get encapsulated." Seeing the kzin starting to open his speak, he continues. "I do understand that we're probably perfectly safe and that twelve Excaliburs aren't going to make a difference. Helm, follow our escort; Weapons, maintain lockdown and maximum traverse away from any Alirian assets. Engineering... stand ready for emergency power reallocation. Just a precaution," he says quickly as Hesche sighs softly.

The sensors technician arches a brow as the bridge officers responsible for the sections named by ther captain reply their acknowledgement. "Telescope image of a light fighter on screen six, sir. 'Cept they aren't exactly 'fighters.'"

"I see..." The colonel leans forward, watching the colors dance over the drioddragon centered in the telescope image. "Looks like something out of an intel report on Orm Embar, except a lot more pleasant on the eye. Threat analysis?"

"Umm... claws, sir. I think our armor's a bit too thick for them to be an immediate threat, but I'm still gonna write in the after-action report that perhaps we should look into hull-clearance techniques."

"Your crew is professional, I see," Speaker quips dryly.

Kabutomushi moves like a bulky yet sleek armor grey spear eight hundred meters long among the twirling fighter-dragons, gravydrives on very low distort as it follows the directions of Alirian hangar control. It carefully slips into its designated niche of the Craftworld, sidling up alongside the ubiquitous universal docking collars and gangways that characterize such things before setting itself to dead stop relative to the massive space structure. After a few moments of debate, the contact team and its marine defenses form up just outside the primary airlock connected to the gangplank.

The thick, armored outer doors at the end of the gangplank announce "SWS-MCR KABUTOMUSHI" and "AIRLOCK 4P" in large block letters above and below a stylized silhouette of a Japanese horned beetle (http://www.niji.or.jp/school/tonosho/20kodomotati/H15/20sogo5nen/yama/ikimono/kabutomushi.jpg) split down the center. The doors slide away fore and aft with the soft hum of heavy motor-assisted pneumatics, revealing Colonel Magallanes (who is wearing a broad belt of red fabric as can now be seen), Diplomatic Officer Hesche, and Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit, all in very similar double-breasted uniforms that differ only in insignia and color. One of three marines in light exoskeletal armor, no more than a partial-coverage carapace with a strength-enhancement frame, lowers the ship's subgangplank to cover the meter-wide chasm revealed by the open airlock doors.

Colonel Magallanes has already been described; he stands about ten centimeters shorter than the 193 centimeter Magnus Hesche, whose uniform differs in that it is blue where the colonel's is green or red and is silver where the colonel's is burnished steel. Hesche (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/magnus_hesche-big.jpg) looks to be the kind of person people used to hire to act as models for photographic art magazines--muscular, well-tanned, teeth almost dazzlingly white, alert blue eyes, medium-length yellow-blonde hair that simply falls into the right place no matter how tousled it is, broad latern-jawed chin that could crush diamonds. In short, absolutely inhuman in his resemblence to a serial-hero ubermenschen of much earlier eras. Speaker-to-Animals' uniform is quite similar to Magnus' except, of course, much much larger. The kzin follows the standard mode of the 'tosh, standing 250 centimeters tall when crouching forward comfortably, the product of an illegitimate union between a linebacker and a tiger with bat-wing ears, a very short-furred tail, and generally black-on-deep orange fur with white highlights. A prominent but not disfiguring nor very large scar slashes upwards over his right eye and brow. The colonel and the marines are prominently armed with the standard-issue 10mm powergun pistol, the colonel carrying his on the belt and the marines in holsters strapped to the chests of their carapace armor; Speaker and Hesche merely carry small cylinders in addition to the ubiquitous bulky communications device pandemic to the Scolopendran federal services.

Speaker steps easily over the airlock door gap--plank not required--and bows shortly to the party intended to meet him. "I am Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra; this is my assistant Senior Diplomatic Officer Magnus Hesche and Colonel Miguel Magallanes, captain of Kabutomushi." The two much shorter men bow shortly as they are introduced, right arm folded lightly in front of their abdomen, left arm folded lightly behind their backs in the Scolopendran custom. "We are honored to have been invited here."

The Everqueen was already there, surrounded by the entire staff of the highest nobles, most of them the Admirals of the fleets and the best courtiers the Empire had to offer. Hundreds of people swarmed in the docks, dressed in their best outfits, most of them goverment officers and important citizens.

The imposing figure of the queen, covered by the greycloak that was the symbol of her absolute authority over all sindarins and sporting the golden circlet that was the symbol of her status as Everqueen, turned around to peer at the people standing behind her, and made a slight nod. Then turning to the woman standing at her right, Princess Aliria, her short figure looking pale in comparison to the tall queen, although the cloak covering her body and the silver circlet placed on her forehead spoke of her high status, second only to her ancestor, the Everqueen repeated the nod, smiling a little with the right half of her mouth. Finally the woman standing to the left of the Queen, a blonde elf dressed in a golden, tight dress, gave the final nod.

All the people in the dock area bowed in front of the visitors, following the lead of the Queen and the woman in the golden dress, looking like a tide of people, slowly bending their backs, their heads and their stares in front of the foreigners, moving like a wave in almost perfect unison, although the three leading people were the ones that inclined their bodies the most. the harmony of the movements were pleasant to look, as a dance perhaps, the hands following the movement of the body in a musical way.


Finally, everybody in the docks raised their heads, only after the Princess and the Queen raised them both, and the intense look of the wonderful eyes of the queen locked with the eyes of the Speaker as she walked forward to meet him, followed only by five people.

Aliria followed the Everqueen just a step behind her, her stare directed at the floor, denying the visitors to take a clean look at her clear eyes and magnificent features, clearly the heir of Lúthien and Dior the Beautiful, the most amazing looking of the first elves and men alike. At the other side of the queen, the blonde woman, more mature than the Princess but looking infinitely younger than the regal figure of the Queen, smiling broadly at the guests of the fabled Aelosian Craftworld, in her eyes a spark of sympathy towards the outsiders. The other three figures were clad in the classical wraithbone armor of eldar design, yet adorned with much archaic Sindarin blazons and heraldry, by the splendid symbols the highest officers of the entire Empire.

One of the elves sported a black armor with golden designs, his tall and slim body supporting a regal head, flowing long golden hair surrounding his noble face, his hand in a firm grip over the hilt of a carefully crafted sword, maybe older than the entire empire by the design, a golden sword as the blazon in his chest. The second one, a huge mass of muscle marked by a brown armor, looked more like a human athlete than the nimble elves around him, an honest look and smile showed in his face, a grin of curiosity depicted in his expression, in his chest the symbol of a closed hand around a light that escaped through the fingers. The last one, a fine looking thin and short woman that strangely wore glasses over her nose, looked really uncomfortable in the tight plates of the armor, and her interested eyes looked like trying to stab the newcomers, her eyebrows trying to get to the last details of the men standing in front of her, in her breastplate the symbol of an ancient elven bow.

As she reached a distance of ten steps from Speaker, the Everqueen stopped and began to speak, her stare still fixed upon his eyes. "Greetings, oh fabled one, to my lands and the lands of my people. May the Valar protect you in the perilous way of this unsatisfying material existence, and may them enlight us to treat you as the honored guest you are. I am the Everqueen Aelosia, the Light of the Sindarin, and my companions in this day are the Jewel of the Sindarin People, Princess Aliria of the House of Aelosia, the Chancellor and Courtier of the Empire Celestrianna Paelisi, and the three heads of our military branches, ArchDuke Admiral Kithail Hyral, Marshall Alays Mablung and Marquise Aleinna Cúthalion. It's a pleasure to us to meet such wonderful personalities as you, and want you to feel as in home, although I know that our clumsy efforts won't be enough for that".

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/AelosiaAliria.jpg
Everqueen Aelosia, the Light of the Sindarin
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/AliriaAelosia.jpg
Princess Aliria, The Sindarin Jewel

"Wherever we go, there we are," Speaker says with a sort of quietly assertive respect that seems slightly out of keeping with his massive form, edges of his felinid mouth curling up into a sort of smile as his bat-wing ears flicker momentarily. "I am certain your efforts will be fruitful, Everqueen Aelosia. You will find us adaptive and very simple to take care of."

The colonel finds this to probably be an understatement as he unabashedly looks around curiously at the massive embarkation room. Scolopendran design philosophy for space structures is inherently practical to the point of Spartan utilitarianism--corridors are always segmented for compartmentalization in case of pressure loss, rooms are kept as small as feasible for the same reason. While larger ships and stations had auditoriums for hundreds, they most certainly were nestled deep inside, not immediately adjacent to highly accident-prone areas such as docks. Contenting himself that the massive area was certainly secure enough from decompression in case of accident, he settles into an easy military stance at rest, hands folded easily behind his back as he looks momentarily up at Speaker.

Meanwhile, the kzintosh continues. "We will be glad to stay for as long as you need us, barring emergency of course. Kabutomushi is acting as a courier and thus shall remain as long as I do. I am certain Colonel Magallanes will follow whatever procedure you require to expedite this necessity."

Shore leave would be nice, Miguel allows himself to think momentarily as he nods. "My ship and crew are here at your discretion, ma'am," he says, the form of address simple and respectful, as Scolopendrans neither have the tradition nor desire to acknowledge royalty past the necessity of proper respect, "and will serve you as we can while we can."

"Hopefully this most rare of exchanges will be the first act in friendly relations between our people," Speaker-Rrit takes back up, "and we proceed at your discretion as guests before the host."

“So,” said Luinthelë nos Ancalimë, (Distant and minor) Heir of Númenórë and (A shade less distant, even more minor) of Eregion, “Quite what am I meant to teach her?” she asked.

The shuttle featured a pair of wide windows toward the front of this room, a brightly decorated sitting room dominated by a pair of long, low semi-circular couches and a coffee table between them, upon which was displayed a circular seal or symbol, symmetrical, featuring four small stars around a large one. “What can you teach her?” a soothing male voice asked, its owner a, comparatively, short, though still slender elf with dark hair, by the name of Morwë.

“That you see,” she said, “I don’t know.”

“Well then,” he said with a smile, “this will be rather interesting, no?”

“Your definition of interesting worries me,” she said to her servant, adjusting her dress, draped over her shoulders and hanging down to her feet, a subtle green, the trim here and there showing a very subtle and delicate leaf pattern, nervously. She looked out through the window at the fast approaching craftworld – though it was in fact magnified by the screen she gazed through, “And it should make you nervous too that I have no idea what I’m intended to do.”

The other smiled, “I am sure, milady,” he said, “that you will think of something. For now, look wise, knowledgeable and generally regal.”

Her eyelids shot up further as she imitated an astonished start, “You want me to look wise?” she said, “Quick. I’ll need a disguise...”

Serafina Alighieri, captain of the Michaelangelo, head of Squadrone Alpha and Maresciallo for the Fallen Angels fleet, sat uneasily in her usual chair. Escort or no, the host fleet had her and the crew nervous. It couldn’t be heard – the bridge was unsettlingly quiet for those unused to their preferred method of communication while on duty, via the Angelan network. The implants most of them had opted for on arrival to the World Disc, something that seemed ages ago, enabled them to communicate clearly at the speed of thought, and integrate smoothly with the AI that ran the ship. It was a different sort of symbiosis, but they had all adjusted and adapted as time went by, til they formed the efficient team that now sat silently at their stations, eyes trained on their displays, information relayed as to status in a constant, soundless stream.

No, it could not be heard, but it could be felt. The feeling was, perhaps, brought more to the forefront by the small yet imposing figure of the Dread Lady herself surveying the 3-D holographic display, linked arm in arm with Emperor Devon Treznor. They too seemed to stand quietly, saying nothing, watching as the ship made its way to the designated docking area.

<LOS Communication - Nathicana>
{
<< So, tell me again why we couldn't just take the Tempest?

<< We did, mi amore. It's in bay three. But however pleasant the Aelosians have been, this is new territory we're in and as such we're not taking chances.

<< Hurm.

<< Sorry Dev - my shuttle would only take so much of a hit, and I'm no fighter pilot. Relax, enjoy the view while you can. We'll be docking soon.

<< Very soon, I hope. Can't these guys make a little noise? Clear their throats now and then, or something?

<< [laugh analog] They're working, boy. You know they operate over the Angelan Mainframe, yes? Much more efficient. They're just very ... focused at the moment.

Nathicana gestures quietly to the Aelosian ships on the holo-display.

<< I know. That's what bothers me.

<< You never have gotten over that, have you?

<< Let's just say I was deeply relieved when they left Unity Island.

<< That was an ... odd meeting, that. And truth, I can't say as I completely blame you. They have their own agenda, make no mistake. However I do not believe that we run contrary to their interests. An 'incident' with any part my fleet would reflect poorly on them as well. You're safe enough, my dear.

<< I trust you, Red. It's them I'm not so sure about.

Captain Alighieri rises from her chair, silently issuing orders even as she turns to face the two, making a crisp bow. "My Lady, Emperor, docking procedures have been initiated. If you would accompany me to the airlock, your escort is waiting.

Treznor turns and schools his face to a polite expression. "A smooth, comfortable flight, Captain. My compliments to you and your crew."

"Grazie, Imperatore," she replies with a nod. Nathicana smiles as well. "Your usual excellence, Maresciallo. Please, lead on," she says, giving Treznor's arm a gentle squeeze for no reason in particular.

The woman preceeds them down the hallways and lifts to the airlock, a team of six soldati lined up on either side of it, along with the Treznor guards. Masetti, head of security, and Pascali, his second, both stand in the lead. They exit first as the doors open, giving the all clear for the others to join them with a quick gesture.

Nathicana shows no sign of hesitation, putting on one of her more charming smiles as she prepares to greet their hosts. Treznor nods to his people, glancing sharply at the captain of his guard detail before continuing on. "Well. Here we go."

"It will be fine, mi amore. Our people know what to do," she says as they step out together, the two teams, long used to working in tandem, blending their efforts seamlessly.

Treznor nods as he maintains his pleasant demeanor. "I wonder what their architecture is like? I hope they've got a good view from the roof." Nathi blushes, stifling a grin. "Imp. And ... you're on. This time I'll be sure to find a hiding place less apt to draw the attention of curious cadets."

"To the Sacriface, this is Supreme Admiral Kithail Hyral, ArchDuke of the Empire and former pupil of Telgonthrind. Please procceed to the coordinates I'm sending you. I'm also asking permission to board the ship. I want to share some time with my former Master, if he agrees", said the elf in a really respectful tone through the communicator device.


As they watched the Dancing lihts of the Dragon-Droids the 'crew' felt, nothing. For the majourity of this silent vessel they where grey lifeless creations. No Soul danced at the heart of the Droids, and so they where beneath their notice. Indeed it was only from the few living Spirit-Seers aboard the vessel that they where paid any attention from. For them they where beutiful but incomplete, imperfect copies of the beings it was their duty to guide.

Kithail's request was however dealt with more concern, eventually a response was formulated. 'Admiral Kithail Telgorthrind has agreed to your request, you may board this vessel at a time of your choosing. In the mean time I shall be departing for your home momentary. I should inform you that in my role as Voice I shall be maintaining a long term connection to the Sacriface and as such request your understanding.'

A Moments pause came in the communication then as the Seer spoke once more to Telgorthrind.

((The following is the 'conversation' between the two. It is Psychic in nature rather than spoken. Bold is Tel the Italics is the Voice))
We request that you ask if the repersentative from the Five Kingdoms has arrived yet
My lord why, our information reveals it is likely to be Alkanphel that is sent
Indeed and we wish to speak to him.
Does the council know of this, surely you cannot be thinking to invite him aboard your vessel, to allow him so near an Infinity Circuit!
I am and the Council does not, this is beyond the Council, this is the will of the Eternity Matrix, do not question it, this is the Will of Him that will come, Yneead

The man noded slowly turning back to the speak once more. 'Telgorthrind asks if the Delagate from The Five Kingdoms has arrived yet?'

The sleek black shuttle touched down cleanly on the tarmac, sitting idle for a moment while the crew inside readied the ship and got everything in order. The strange nature of the invite was lost on no one, and even though Alkanphel had never travelled abroad with armed guards, several had accompanied him to Aelosia. The Maia seldom had any need for such guards and it was probable that they'd only keep a general eye on the surround, leaving the Ainu as usual to fend for himself in the event of an ambush.

First out of the hatch was Sable Fist High Captain Aros Antanamir, flanked by a pair of SF Overlords. THe three men peered out at their surroundings, sizing up any possible threat with well-trained eyes, exchanging unintelligible phrases back and forth in the Black Speech, occasionally tapping the comms in their ears to open a channel with the rest of the guards.

Soon, the ramp was fully lowered and the three men descended it swiftly, weapons drawn but lowered. They moved fast, and stayed low to the ground, trained to assume that this was potentially a combat situation. Two more men followed suit and crept down the ramp in much the same manner, rushing to the other side of the shuttle to take up their posts on the other side.

Finally, the unmistakable shape of Lord Alkanphel made itself visible in the doorway as the Maia approached the opening and climbed out, walking nonchalantly down the ramp. If the events of the past few months were bothering him, he hid it remarkably well, shunting his personal issues behind his regal countenance--his Aura preceding him now as it once did before: a feeling of power and terror welling up in the recesses of the mind, subtly prodding the subject to acknowledge the superiority of the Ainu.

Reaching the ground, Alkanphel cants his head a bit and smiles ever so slightly at the waiting welcoming party.

In the Launch Bay of Frozen Trance

"Please follow the Chancellor, she will take you to the Dome of the Understanding, as I can translate it in your language, the place where you will stay meanwhile you're lending me your support to raise this little child", said the Queen to Speaker, pointing with her open hand to the woman in the golden dress.

Suddenly one of the assistants leaned to her ear and whispered something to her. Aelosia turned again to the Speaker, after dismissing the attendant with a wave of her hand. "Well. I need to leave this bay, because I also need to greet another visitors, although in this case you probably would like to join me, if the trip through the stars wasn't too tiring for you, Sire. Both Lady Nathicana and the Emperor Devon Treznor are docking in the Dock of the Haunted Dreams. Me and Aliria are going to give them the proper welcome party", she said with a honest looking smile, although the plotting and scheming nature of the queen for sure was holding something else behind those happy eyes and features. Waving with her hand Celestrianna finally guided the Speaker to their new destination.

As the group of people disbanded and moved towards the next bay, the Admiral Hyral quickly dissapeared in the middle of the crowd, looking for his shuttle in his secret hangar, trying to sneak into his rendezvouz with his old master Telgonthrind.

"I have reports that say that also the Great Maia Lord Alkanphel and the envoys from the C'tan confederacy have already arrived too, Your Majesty. Unless we hurry up, or be able to be at different places at the same time, we won't be able to greet all the guests", whispered in Sindarin the Chancellor to the Queen's ear, as they walked by. Aelosia was looking strangely angered by the words of her advisors, and turned to see Celestrianna, saying in a loud voice. "You're the Chancellor of this country, the protocol is mainly your responsability. Send the proper welcome party to those docks and bring them to the entrance of the dome, I'll be waiting for them there. For your sake, that task will be accomplished in a proper manner, if you like your position", the last words being almost a threatening hiss.

Turning to the assembly of nobles, the Chancellor directed them to the entrances of the proper docks, readying them to greet the visitors, before finally guiding the Scolopendra delegates to the train that would took them to the Palace dedicated to the guests.

In the Launch Bay of the Lost Nightmares

A group of elves were waiting as Alkanphel came out of the shuttle, flanked by a handful of soldiers clad in a ceremonial outfit, far different than the groups of guards clad in Eldar battle around that looked casually positioned there, swarming around in the entire area.

A woman, sporting glasses over her eyes, dressed in a military outfit, quickly stepped forward to greet the envoy of the Dark Lord Morgoth. Bowing her head to Alkanphel, she finally spoke. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the powerful Maia of legend, Morgoth's right hand. Be welcomed here, Lord Alkanphel, to the lands of the elves that once were called Sindar, the survivors of Doriath that once were protected by the Waist of Melian and that now race the stars. The Everqueen is waiting for you at the Dome of Understanding, the Palace where you will be invited to share part of your infinite knowledge with our Princess. My name is Marquise Elainne Cuthálion of the Noble House of Cúthalion, and I'll be your guide today, now if you can be so gentle of following me to the holotrain station...", said the woman, her face depicting almost a mischievous smile as she said those words, then waving her hand to show the powerful guest the way to the train.

In the way, the elf spoke again. "The Everqueen wanted to came herself to greet you, but other duties separated her from such pleasure. She didn't mean to insult you, and she will be waiting for you at the entrance of the palace"

In the Dock of the Haunted Dreams

Almost as soon as Nathicana and Treznor came out of their transport, the Queen's comitive entered the docks, and the few guards stnading there straightened themselves.

The Queen, smiling and looking in a good mood, approached the both dignataries with her arms opened. "May the Valar be gracious during your stay here, precious guests. Good tidings run through my heart as finally I see your faces, enlightened minds of the human race", she said, as again the entire group of elves, almost a hundred, started to bow again to the visitors, the Queen slowly following them, being the last one to stand again.

"Please let me introduce myself, if you can forgive my lack of manners due to the emotion that fills my spirit. I'm the Everqueen Aelosia, Light of the remaning Sindarin, your host", and after a pause she continued, calling the Princess at her side. "And this little girl is Princess Aliria, my Heir to the throne, your future pupil, if you're really thinking about sharing your fabled knowledge and skills to such noble task as is the formation of a new leader, that is", said the Queen, staring first into Nathicana's eyes, and then switching her gaze to the Emperor Treznor.

Aliria nodded slowly, her noble and gleaming features showing an smile as she lowered her head a bit towards the visitors, the hand of the Queen firmly attached to her shoulder...

In the Outskirts of the Craftworld's Orbit

Finally the Admiral Hyral landed the modified model of the vampire hunter that was his personal plane on the bay of the Sacriface, and came down the platform, bowing respectfully as he felt the presence of his Master aboard the ship.

"Greetings, Telgonthrind, and greetings to you, Voice, powerful seers of a never fading race. I'm here to escort you to our home, the home that your people built so many centuries ago, and that now is the center of power of the Sindarin Empire. In answer to your question, yes, Lord Alkanphel, the Dread envoy of Melkor was arriving to the Craftworld when I left it, so if you want to meet him, you can do so if you follow me to the surface", spoke the man, marveled at the beauty of the original decks of eldar design, so different from the modified hulls that the sindarin used in their own ships.

In the Dock of Hidden Spirits

The C'tan shuttle was already being expected by a comitive, headed by a man clad in the golden wraithbone armor of most of the Aelosian Admirals, sporting the blazons of the Haralis House.

As the door opened, the man, stepped forward to greet the mysterious envoy of the Istaris of the stars...

For a moment silence was all that greeted the Admiral before the spirit of Telgorthrind rose up, the silent work of the Wriath crew around them continuing unbroken, securing the ship, and the area around it, without making a sound. Communicating all that was needed to be said through other means.

The Sound of Telgorthrind speaking was not carried through the air, rather it seemed to just arrive in the mind.Greetings Hryal and I thank you for meeting us. My Voice is prepared for departure, as is your custom I believe he is allowed escorts upon your home? In readiness for this may I introduce them.

Without a sound two shapes stepped forward, huge Metalic shapes, roughly two or three times the size of humans or elves, they carried each only one weapon a large sword that seemed to glisten in the light, as eldritch energies crackled along the blades. Their bodies seemed to glisten with a slightly blue light and runes where carved into the Wraithbone shells that hurt the eyes to look for too long upon them. Wraith-Princes, Spirits to guard my Spirt-Seer. The voiceless for the Voice. They like me are the dead that still serve. I trust they will be acceptable?

Approaching the Craftworld

"Beautiful," Albert said softly, looking out a window from the Aelosian ship carrying him to the Craftworld. Out in space, the stars twinkled, a billion sparkling pinpoints of light. Albert had a moment to himself, while Celestrianna handled some minor details about their arrival, and as it often did when he was alone and there was no paperwork to be done, his mind wandered.

What might be out there? What wonders lie waiting to be found? What more is there to see? These questions had always fascinated the President. Someday soon, he hoped, his countrymen would move amongst the stars as easily as the Aelosians and the other spacefaring civilizations that Glorious Humanity had encountered, and answer these questions.

Now his vision of the stars was being obscured by the looming form of the Craftworld. Albert was still amazed at the very idea of a planet created by sentients rather than nature. Truly a remarkable feat, involving technology he could only begin to guess at, while his mind shuddered away from how much raw effort must have gone into the construction. What if there were other places like this, made by other races? Wouldn't that be something to see, the builders an incredible group to meet.

He was well aware that msot cultures did not share his view of space, he knew that for many nations space was simply something to be exploited. No one had much time for exploration or discovery any more, only control and warfare. A depressing thought.

The ship was beginning its final descent. Albert pulled his eyes away from the window and stood up, stretching and checking himself over. No more time to dream for now. Time to be a politician again.

The Maia makes no adjustment to his demeanor, and his face remains stoic during the greeting save for a slight tightening about his eyes at the mention of the name 'Morgoth'. Though he supposed it wasn't unusual for the Elves to use that name for him, he'd spent much of the flight speculating as to whether or not the Sindar would be obsequious enough to avoid the term. Apparetly, they were not. Surely this servant of the enemy knew quite well what she was saying and who she was saying it to, and furthermore that it was quite impossible to suppose that Alkanphel wouldn't notice it. Servants of the Five Kingdoms had always referred to the Vala by his proper name, detesting the sobriquet and the propaganda from which it spawned.

He nods to his guards, who shoulder their weapons as a dozen more Sable Fist agents file out of the hatch in short order--easily the greatest number of such agents convened at once in a time of peace. Trained from birth and instilled with the utmost fury and passion for their cause, the Sable Fist [whether the Elves wanted to admit it or not--which they probably didn't] were easily a match for their Menelmacari Mornahossë; whom they were bred and trained to counteract. Training their gaze on their elven counterparts, the operatives oddly make no move to follow Lord Alkanphel; instead taking up posts around the ship, and in so doing make it apparent to their Aelosian hosts that they will not tolerate any attempt to move it from its resting place.

Alkanphel is silent through the duration of Cuthálion's speech, and responds to her claim about the Everqueen with nothing save a simple grunt and a tightening of his jaw. With a cursory nod towards the she-Elf, the Maia strides in the direction of the holotrain station, not particularly caring if she followed.

The elf woman walked down the ramp of the vessel without any apparent problems, her heels tapping against the patterned metal noiselessly. She smiled at the admiral as she approached, and bowed deeply and respectfully, her immaculate blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, the jewels set into its weave. The circlet she wore about her head was very much similar to the one worn by her ‘daughter,’ but her own was perhaps even more expansive and elaborate, and definitely older. She smiled at the admiral one more as she rose, her dress sweeping a little as she moved, “It is an honour to finally visit the ‘craftworld’ of the Sindar,” she said, her eyes twinkling just a little as she reflected on the really rather disgusting means by which they had acquired the kionash…

All the guests were escorted and brought through a wonderful trip through the Craftworld's domes, after being welcomed by the most important and influyent nobles of the entire Empire. Speaker had the honor to travel with the Everqueen herself, the C'tan delegates alongside the Head of the Lórindel House, Haralis the Silver Hawk, Alkanphel with Aleinna Cúthalion of the Blessed Mind. Atheril D'nan, Viceroy of the Red Sand and Lady Daeros of the Minstrels picked up Lady Nathicana and Emperor Devon respectively. Prince Kithail Hyral escorted the Eldar mentor, the Voice of Telgonthrind, and President Albert of Glorious Humanity finally was able to have a rendezvous with his beloved Celestrianna.

A holotrain ride was for sure a surprise for most, as the gravity engines propelled the wagons faster than any conventional trains, travelling hundreds of miles in few minutes, the wagons filled with all commodities and luxuries any of the guests could find proper.

The rest of the mentors applying found their way to the Dome of Understanding guided by the rest of personalities of the Craftworld, one of the biggest and more fastous domes of the Aelosian Craftworld, filled with the Campus of the Universities and colleges of the entire country. In the middle, the wondrous, strangely shaped palace built by the Everqueen for her heir Aliria gleamed against the light of the artificial dawn of the Dome's sky, surrounded by an artificial lake.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/elfcastle.jpg

The surrounding gardens of the first level of the huge structure were populated by fair beasts and wonderful attractions as natural zoos, parks, fountains and the like. Many elves gathered there to see the foreigner personalities, all of them receiving wonderful cheers as the trains left them in the docks around the castle.

Being picked by a ship of also really strange design, as large as any of the biggest 21st century luxuty cruiser, in minutes they reached their final destination, the main garden of the D'Hyru Palace.

Many elves were there, giving shows of horse riding skills, fencing duels, recitals of the most diverse sort, and theatre spectacles. Yet the main attraction were the foreigner mentors, who received a really warm applause by a huge crowd as they arrived to the yard. All the elves present repeated the ritual of the traditional bow to all of them, and the Everqueen quckly raced to give them the greeting salute and speech to all.

"Please be welcomed to our lands, the lands of the neverending fall, the lands of the Sindar. You, most gifted minds of the known universe, today you are bringing to our entire nation a big favor lending your knowledges and skills for the education of our beloved Princess and Heir, Aliria nos Elurín nos Dior nos Lúthien", started the Everqueen, as Aliria also raced to the front at the right side of her foster mother and queen, bowing to her future teachers as the crowd applauded her.

"We have provided you with the best commodations Aelosia has to offer. Your chambers are reparted over the higher floors of the palace. Please feel at home, and any askings you may have please talk with the noble under at your command. You're free to begin your teachings as you may feel proper, although for the sake of all I would like you to organize a schedule so the Princess may have the honor of listening to all the lessons you have to offer her. Our gratitude has no limits, after all knowledge is the best prized good of the universe, and you have offered it for free", she continued, Aliria smiling and blushing, still motionless at her side.

"May the Valar help us to pay the debt that we all have with you, kind foreigners, as I don't see how we can pay it for ourselves", she finally ended her speech, opening her arms wide as the crowd roared the Aelosian national motto.

After a while the crowd started to disperse heading for the docks, and the Everqueen and Aliria stood in front of the mentors, their guards and the rest of nobles, many of them also trusted Aliria's teachers, around them...

http://photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/th_sindarinmale.jpg
http://photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/th_sindarinfemale.jpg
Average Aelosian citizens and their usual style of clothing

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/AliriaAelosia.jpg
Princess Aliria, Sindarin Jewel and Heir to the Throne of the Sindarin Empire.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/Aelosia/AelosiaAliria.jpg
Everqueen Aelosia, also known as Elurín nos Dior nos Lúthien

Nathicana was impressed, she had to admit. The alien beauty of the Aelosian craftworld could not be denied, and the inborn sense of artistry from her Dominion heritage had her appreciating it all immensely. She watched the scenery go by, smiling softly, engaging in pleasant conversation with the charming Viceroy Atheril D'nan, who thus far seemed to have the grace and courtesy she had come to expect from the Aelosian elves.

The Dome was breathtaking – there existed nothing of this sort in the Dominion, as proud as their own heritage was. Shining with a mix of both past and future as it seemed, she was reminded in a way of how the WorldDisc had been in some parts; a pristine paradise, artificial though it was. The Dominion soldati, and the two who had joined them, carrying a wooden case between them, spoke quietly amongst themselves now and then, commenting on this feature or that, all quite pleased at both the beauty and grace of the surroundings and people, and the warm reception they were receiving. Nathi herself blushed at all the fuss that was made over them, murmuring her thanks and smiling warmly.

So many sights and sounds – a veritable feast for the senses, it was decided. Many a Dominion native would find such diversions well worth the cost, were such places opened up to them, which was something Nathicana hoped to perhaps address, should things go smoothly.

The Dread Lady offered her applause as well as the Everqueen made her speech, and introduced Aliria, again a bit overwhelmed by the continued praise and compliments. Once the crowd began to disperse, and the opportunity presented itself, she approached the Everqueen and Aliria, nodding politely and smiling warmly.

“Your Majesty, if I may take this opportunity to thank you for your invitation and welcome of us. Truly, far more than we had expected, and much more than you need offer,” she says, then gestures to the two assistants carrying the case. “If I may, Queen Aelosia, present you and Princess Aliria with a sampling of the finest wines and liqueurs of the Dominion, with our compliments. ‘Tis but a small token, but I hope that it will be enjoyed nonetheless.”

“As for the scheduling, consider myself at your disposal during my time here. I will be happy to adjust to whichever timeslot best suits her Highness, and I very much look forward to getting to know her better. If first impressions are to be judged, may I say that I believe you have chosen your heir well,” she finishes sincerely, her smile broadening somewhat.

<LOS Communication – Devon>
{
<< This should prove interesting, no? I’m rather looking forward to all this – not to mention, trying to find out just what some of these other folks plan on teaching the elven lady. Some … interesting choices, no?
}

Treznor openly scans his head around to take in the sights. He follows after Nathicana, waiting for her to present her gifts before he gestures to one of his guards and takes a large box carved from mahogany.

"My ladies, I present to you a pair of pistols crafted by the finest gunsmiths in my Empire. They are replicas of an old style of automatic handgun known as the Colt .45, but have been updated to modern standards as found in my nation. The clips hold both fuel cells and ammunition, using electromagnetic coils to accelerate small slivers of steel to significant velocity before they leave the barrel. The fuel cells have an infinite shelf life, and the ammunition will last up to fifty rounds. Each pistol has a reserve of five clips each."

He takes a pistol gently from its red velvet bed from within the box and slowly lifts it to eject its clip. He then reverses the weapon and presents it to Queen Aelosia. "As you see here, the grip is mother of pearl, and the barrell has been overlaid with silver etchings. The components inside the gun are lighter than the original model .45, but the smiths were able to duplicate the original weight and balance. The weapon is fully function and accurate up to a range of a thousand feet with proper windage. The ammunition will not pierce a solid barrier such as metal or solid wood, but are otherwise quite sufficient for self defense. The shock of impact tends to be fatal for most organics. And the casings are, in my opinion, fit for these to remain as ornamental pieces if never fired in anger. It is my sincere hope that you never have need of them in that capacity."

He replaces the clip back in the hilt of the gun and returns the gun to its nest in the box. He then offers it to them with the slight bow of a peer acknowledging a fellow peer. "It is my pleasure to accept your hospitality in this most wondrous of worlds."

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
<< Damn, but these people know how to build. I'm thinking I might commission a palace or two out of 'em. The old one is getting kind of stodgy and drafty, you know.

<< Personally, I think it was pretty damned shrewd of Queen Aelosia to invite such a wide range of personalities and perspectives. I just hope they're prepared for the squabbling it's going to invite.
}

The scenery is inevitably fascinating due to its novelty, although those few things which are intricately and endlessly detailed from top to bottom seem to, oddly enough, impress less than those things which have a simple sort of elegance to them. Attention to detail is a wonderful thing but all things exist best in moderation; to the Scolopendran eye, any object that relies on a rococo over-reliance on ornamentation and detail is simply trying too hard. Still, these things are rare, and the visuals presented are generally most pleasing to Speaker-Rrit and his party.

Like everyone else, they evaluate the various international parties around them as well as the local flavor; unlike a few, possibly, it is not an analysis of competition. Speaker was called in to teach, not to proselytize, and teach he would. When it comes to gifts, the Scolopendran tone is, once again, a bit different. After waiting his turn, the kzintosh steps up with a low bow to Queen Aelosia, which actually manages to achieve eye-level with the shorter Sindarin, before presenting a thick hardcover volume of a book, simply bound in durable blue canvas. The cover and the spine both show a title of gold-plated letters as is traditional, first in ornate Arabic calligraphy and repeated below that in Sindarin.

"I know that someone of your stature may have less time for reading than desired," Speaker says with a smile and a quietly jovial voice, bat-wing ears flicking once or twice, "but this is a summary of the most widespread philosophies in the Federated Segments and a treatise on how they may have influenced our history. It is hardly as dry as it sounds. The author does a good job of using enough interesting historical and ethical example to both keep it interesting and better explain concepts."

Having delivered the book, he stands back up to a more comfortable height and steps back to avoid anyone having to pull back their neck too far. "Hopefully you will enjoy it. I thank you for your hospitality and the honor you do us with this reception, and I hope that this exchange will bring our peoples closer together. I will perform the duties you have asked of me to the utmost of my ability, I promise you." The last is said as a most definite statement.

Hesche, on the other hand, watches all this from the side, figuring that right now is a moment for star members rather than supporting cast. This, of course, annoys him just a little bit. No chance to step up, be suave and gentlemanly and debonair... it crimps his style a little. Still, one can't complain. It's a beautiful (simulated) day, he's among friends (for the most part), and there will be more chances to be his usual self later.

Luinthelë smiled at being seated next to Haralis Lórindel though she did make a point of sitting as far from Alkanphel as it was possible to, holding a decanter of some expensive beverage in one hand, and looking out at the environment they passed, trying to avoid the feeling of evil malice, that came from the fallen maia’s every gesture. She would have dearly loved to see him slain, but she knew it was far beyond her abilities, not to mention her purview here, despite which she had brought a sword with her, if for nothing else than tradition’s sake. She instead concentrated her attention on Haralis, smiling sweetly, in defiance of the unease she felt, she tried to strike up something of a conversation.

She was of course, interested in the head of house Lórindel, as, if nothing else, his name, or rather his family name, had appeared before her many times. In recent years, in addition to the, in the opinion of her ‘daughter,’ deserved rest and idleness of wealth, she had taken an ever greater interest in her daughter’s legitimate operations, especially the massive corporate entity that was Lossë-elen Heavy Industries.

She wasn’t particularly surprised by the holotrain journey, she was vaguely familiar with such things herself, though she preferred other means of transport herself. Instead she was entranced by the promise shown in the ornately tended zoos and gardens outside the terminal where their journey ended. She took careful note of everything that could prove interesting, as she had had an abiding interest in birds and beasts, that had only grown in recent years in the seclusion of the expansive house and lands on the isle of Carnëlóna, a large island to the north west of the capital, housing a large city of the same name, as well as a large expanse of woodlands.

Astonished by the cheers the sindarin crowds gifted her, she bowed deeply toward them, and waved for a long moment before going off on her way, fingering a ring around the fifth finger of her left hand. The main garden of the palace surprised her still more, and she was most intrigued by the shows of riding, as one would expect, given her own fondness of the art. She returned both the bows of the Everqueen and of her heir in the most courtly manner one could expect. Daunted she was by the words of the Everqueen, she felt as though crowned with laurels for no great deed.

It appeared that everyone else had brought gifts, and she cursed herself briefly for not thinking of one. As if guided by providence, she reached into her pocket, feeling a box she could have sworn she hadn’t put there. Taking it out she examined the velveted red box, and opened it cautiously. It contained an elaborately worked gold chain which suspended in a pair of stylised eagle wings, a large and finely cut sapphire. Bless you Morwë, she thought, you never miss a trick do you?

She presented the necklace to Aliria, “I must apologise if this gift seems less lordly than the others you receive today your royal highness,” she said, “but then, the same could be said of myself,” she smiled, the act of saying that offsetting her nervousness about this entire affair a little.

My Lord the others they give a gift, but I have brought none... what is your desire in this? For a moment silence and then the slightest sense of a smile passed across the link.
What do they give my eyes?
The response was sent int he form of images first of the Dredd Ladies Wines a slight nod came back along the link they shared it was not unexpected but interesting none the less, what gifts each gave showed what each government and in this case the Leaders themselves truely valued of course it wasn't so simple. While it was true from all he heard the Dominion liked their wines one would not class them as Drunks, but wine had other connatations.
Less was known about the man who was according to reports to marry the Dredd Lady, again the Gun seemed a little too obvious, strength and self determination perhaps, an independent spirit, and perhaps one a little untrusting.

The Scolopendrian gift was unsuaul and inspirational, they gave the gift of knowledge, it was perhaps the exact thing he could give, in his own unique manner. The Necklace was the mislead he felt sure it was a last minute addition one that the giver had not known about and one in any case no hints as to the nature of the Jackel was needed.

My Voice this is what you shall offer the future Everqueen of the Sindar...

Stepping forward the man bowed a moment and stood before the assembled guests. 'I am afraid what I bring as a gift is not a book of ancient knowledge, nor a case of wine, it is not physical you cannot reach out and touch it. What I bring is an offer from Telgorthrind to experiance through his senses the Infinity Matrix and the Eternity Matrix, he offers to show you the souls of our departed ancestors, to see the world as a place of emotion and spirit. To see the beauty inherent in the soul of a couple in love,' The voice paused to cast a slight glance at Nathi and Treznor as he spoke 'the flare of Anger and hate' Again he paused to glance at Alkanphel 'of unrequented love. To see it all as he see's it now if only for a moment.' Then he bowed low, to Aliria and as an obvious measure of the Keigh's feelings to Aelosia except this bow was notas deep as Aliria's it covered the required diplomatic distance but no more.

OOC PS I know many of you will be suspicious but I can swear I have no dirty tricks Tel is being 100% truthful here. No brain fecks included.

"Wondrous gifts you have brought to my Heir, and I'm sure her heart is overwhelmed by the sight of so fantastic marvels that you have brought with yourselves. I'm sure she will enjoy both showing those marvelous jewelry that will make her own beauty grow pale in comparison, then to relax through the winter nights enjoying a both interesting and transcendant book, enjoying the best human wine in the universe, knowing that she is protected by the craftmanship of the most delicate weaponsmiths in the universe resting at her side, having memories of all the things that she got to share here. Of course, I hope you all will taught her in the ways to apprecciate the hidden qualities and the best ways to use your own gifts. A book is better to be read with someone able to explain the hidden qualities of the story and the lessons written between the words, and a gun is nothing without a marksmanship class", said the Everqueen in a soft way, before finally turning to the Eldar Farseer, with an enigmatic half smile, half grin on her face. "Interesting, I would say, your gift, Old One. Yet I'll let my heir to decide about joining or not your journey. Let's say I wouldn't approve such move for the risks that it implies, but it's her call, after all".

Aliria smiled and looked at the wondrous presents her future teachers and mentors were presenting her, and just managed to slip a hushing "thank you" to all of them, bowing in front of each of the strangers deeply, blushing a bit.

"Although no pleasure in the universe could equal the quality of your company, I must retire, dear guests. state affairs call my attention, shame and sadly speaking. But from now on, your pupil is all yours. Princess Aliria will accompany each of you to your chambers, that I hope you'll find of your liking. Remember that each of you can call the Agaraglareb at your command for any doubt, guide or help. You'll find the way of calling him soon", said the Queen already turning to leave, followed by her own staff of attendants.

Only the heir remained, Aliria's clear and blue eyes sparkling out of expectation as she looked at the strange yet marvelous gathering present in front of her. "I'm at your disposition, Milords and Ladies", she said, as her body spun towards the direction of the palace's entrance. "You'll find in each of your chambers a calling device, disguised as a ring, with that you'll be able to call servants, your noble attendant, or even myself. If you're so kind to follow me, I'll show you your chambers and the rest of the facilities that you have at your disposal inside this castle. As my mother said a while ago, nothing makes me happier than to see the probabilities that you will become my teachers. Yet we expect you to behave according to the few restrictions that we placed you, because we would like to avoid any crimes or violations to our own laws without previous consultation from your part. That's the only and main rule", as those words came out of her mouth, she began to walk towards the castle in a soft and slow stride, trying to share her gaze with everyone present, avoiding to refuse eye contact with any of the guests, giving them the notion that she cared for each one of them in an equal fashion, not daring to ignore or place apart any.

As they walked through the gardens, more displays of both riding skills, flower arrangements and even a show of the traditional Aelosian martial arts, elven fencing and axe throwing, was prepared to both amuse and instruct the Heir's Mentors in the culture and ways of the aelosian people. Bards, minstrels and trouvatours filled each part of the garden with a different ambient music, almost whispering their songs as the guests passed by. When the group finally reached the main door of the palace, a guard of almost a hundred soldiers, clad in the traditional wraithbone eldar-designed suits of armor, issued a greeting, their bright lances raised, their helmet removed to show their faces to the guests. An interesting issue was that every one of them was female, reflecting in their lines every possible kind of woman of the different noble families.

"So, be welcome to your palace, guests", said Aliria after the silence conquered the huge lobby in front of them. "In front of you, you have a holo map, depicting the way to your personal chambers and to the rest of the dependencies of the palace. If you have any question, I'm sure any of the staff, or myself, will be really glad to answer it"

Treznor squeezes Nathicana's hand as he approaches Aliria. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'm sure we'll find the accomodations more than satisfactory.

"At this time I would like to discuss our schedule. As the Queen suggested I could teach you marksmanship, but I feel you would be better served by examining multiple flavours of statecraft. Everyone has their own opinions about how to govern a nation and deal with allies, but no one has all the answers.

"May I request a late appointment tomorrow for our talks? That will give me time to sign off on the matters in my nation that absolutely demand my attention, then give us the rest of the evening to talk about your thoughts and concerns for your people."

It had been sometime since Gregory had went out to offically open an embassy in any new country. Nearly a century actually. But with relations between NYNJ and Aelosia going well, it was decided long ago that an embassy should be opened in each others nations. With the call for teachers to train the young Aelosian princess in order for her to take over, Gregory figured this would make the perfect test for Aliria, who would have to do the daily hustle and bustle of diplomatic parties and dealing with allied nations on offical terms.

On the shuttle ride from Earth to the awaiting Presidental Transport, Gregory flipped through a breifing on Elven customs. Not that he thought it would help much but Gregory still considered most people with pointed ears to have the same customs. And they werent really sure as of yet as to how to deal with the Aelosians. In his lap he'd decided to bring a couple of goodwill gifts. A minature of the NYC skyline, and the national flower. To his side on the long ride to the Aelosian homeland was the future diplomat from NYNJ Nelson Crawford. A rising politican in the country he was seen by many as being tailored to be the future vice president of NYNJ. For the moment though he needed a lesson in diplomacy, and procedures. And this excursion was chalk full of both.

As the Presidental transport approached the Aelosian Craftworld, after traveling several hours President de los Santos was getting ready to for the welcome party. Fixing his uniform and ceremonial sabre Gregory and the future Ambassador now waited for the greenlight by the Aelosians to dock and disembark.

Nathicana returns the affectionate squeeze, stepping up to speak with Aliria as well, waiting until he has finished. "Indeed, if I may make a request as well? If first thing in the morning is still open, I would request that time period in which to discuss and teach. I prefer when at home - and when travelling where it is allowed - to begin my mornings with a bit of a run and some exercise. I find that it is not only the mind, but the body we need to keep sharp. That would be my first lesson. From what we have seen, the grounds here would make for a beautiful setting, and afterwards we could go on to discuss other matters."

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
<< That ought to cover it nicely, if she agrees. First in, last out - best and lasting impressions, one would hope, no?
}

Aliria give multiple and enthusiastic nods to both of her guests, smiling broadly, clearly excited by the prospect of starting her "education" as soon as possible. Bowing again to the Emperor Treznor, she directed him some words "I would be delighted, Emperor Treznor, Sire. I'm sure that to share an evening with you is for sure the most entertaining of events. I'm eager to listen to your point of views about geopolitics and international relationships. I have heard stories, but to hear them from you will be like listening to a legend by the legend himself. Should I look for you when the sun sets, Sire?", she asked, just before turning to the Dread Lady of the Dominion.

"Nothing would be better, dear Lady. I also try to enjoy my mornings. I could enjoy trying to be your companion while you do your early routine of exercise, if you agree, of course. Just tell me at what time I must look for you in your chambers, Lady Nathicana, and I'll be there. I guess we should try to share as much as we can", continued the Princess, giving her the same eager and enthusiastic nods.

Treznor shares an amused glance with Nathicana before addressing Aliria once again. "When the sun sets, yes. But please, the time for formalities are over. I'd appreciate it if you called me Devon. I'm no one's Sire, with the exception of a little boy presently in the qualified care of his aunt."

Nodding almost to himself a moment the Spirit Seer stepped forward. 'My Lord He-That-Was Telgorthrind is at your disposal as am I. When you wish to speak to him I will be ready.' Bowing a moment before stepping backwards he went back to studying what the Mon-Keigh had done to a Craftworld. A Part of him loathed to admit it but they had indeed been good stewards, the place was stunning, still carried that sense of otherworldness, yet at it's core it was empty to him.

Where the spirits of the departed usually slept away the millenia till the coming of Ynnead, nothing stirred, and it wa still a shock to him.

Yes I remember well when I walked these halls once before to meet with the Prince and convince him against a course my Voice, it is empty, silent where a Choir should be. As always we must wonder where the voices went to...

((OOC I don't think the Council knows ICly what you did with the Spirit Stones?))

Speaker, Hesche, and Magallanes simply wait their turn, not being so uncouth as to force themselves upon their host. However, listening to Aliria and Nathi's conversation, Speaker looks at his two guests and chuckles. Magallanes and Hesche look at each other, quietly guessing what will come next.

"Honored host," Speaker says with a short bow, "we are here to serve your needs. Therefore, we want only to match with your best convenience." He looks slyly towards the others, then smiles. "However, if the good Dread Lady does not object, we would like to join you in your early-morning exercise. Physical training is a key part of Scolopendran government service," he says with winking bat-wing ears, "and we are, after all, on duty. It is always easier to exercise in a group."

"There goes my vacation," Hesche grumbles good-naturedly to himself, just loud enough to be intentionally audible.

"After that, Hesche and I will be available to discuss our opinions on diplomacy and statecraft. Colonel Magallanes would be a better resource for military information, but I am unsure of his availability."

The kzintosh turns slightly at the waist and looks to the naval officer, who nods. "Normally I should stay aboard my ship, but if our request for shore leave is granted then I will be staying here to make myself more accessible if the crew or your authorities need me. As it is, please consider yourself welcome aboard Kabutomushi. Restricted-access areas are clearly labeled and any one of my troopers would be glad to assist you if you have any questions or need to get in contact with me."

An uneventful night passed over the marvelous castle, not one of the guests being disturbed by everything, all the huge structure remaining in the most strange of the silences, only broken by the ocassional gust of breeze or the passing of a bird or small animal through the gardens surrounding the architectonic marvel.

With the next morning the light came over the deep and long night, the artificial sun gleaming over the top of the dome, trying to mimic the feeling of the most beautiful dawns ever seen by the sindarin in their travels around the world, today the sky taking a purple tone as the day advanced.

Not much time passed before a shy knock echoed through both the door of the Scolopendra's delegation chambers and the Dread Lady Nathicana's room, announcing the coming of the morning...

"Hmmrff?" Hesche blinks as he peeks around the side of the door--and despite the blinky-eyed trappings of having just been woken up, he still looks as dapper as ever, his hair naturally keeping an appropriately heroic tumbled yet orderly look.

It's midly disturbing, if one thinks about it too hard.

By this time, Speaker is already up and with the party sent around to wake up the Scolopendrans, working out the kinks in his muscles with long, slow stretches. "Time to work out, Magnus." He thinks about continuing with a little ditty the M.I. back at his Civilian Defense Corps training camp so long ago introduced him to, but decides it inappropriate given his current company.

Magnus nods slowly, seems to remember something, then holds up two fingers quickly, new life in his face. "Two seconds," he says quickly, then disappears behind the door for approximately the amount of time required for someone in the nude to throw on underwear, shorts, a t-shirt, socks, and get his feet into shoes on the bounce before reappearing in exactly that ensemble. "Alright, let's go!"

The change is staggering--he looks exactly the same, but is now active, alert, and yet not suffering the twitching-eye effect of someone who just took stimulants. High on life, as it were. "So, we're working out with the Dread Lady, right?"

Speaker just shakes his head.

Treznor shifts lightly in his sleep, his hands automatically adjusting to cup warm flesh seemingly designed to fit snugly in his palms. His partner stretches slowly, then curls back up with him long enough to sneak in a kiss and let her hands wander over his body familiarly. "Seems it's that time, mi amore. Damn but the morning came fast."

He yawns and blinks. "You volunteered for the early shift. I have another hour before I have to go to work." His hands, however, do not leave their comfortable position, although the fingers start wandering in interesting directions.

"Stop that, or we'll both miss our sessions," Nathi says, grinning impishly as her own hands grow more bold. She calls over to the attendant outsside the door. "Grazie - I'll be right there!"

"We certainly don't want the 'Pedes showing us up. It's too bad we can't start the day with our usual exercise." He yawns again, wider than before, but his fingers continue their assault. "You'll just have to make do with our charge and the very capable Mr. Hesche."

Nathicana half-scowls as he carries on, though she has a hard time keeping the stern demeanor. She finally firmly grasps him by his shoulders and throws her leg over, grappling til she has the superior position. She sits there then, looking down at him quite shamelessly as she shifts and grins.

"No, we can't have that. An interesting choice, coming along. I wonder what Speaker has planned for that ... sly bastard. And Hesche. I've heard stories." Whether or not said stories are good or bad, she doesn't say, though she does look thoughtful for a moment, before letting present activities distract her again.

Treznor wriggles his body a bit, not to escape anything but to emphasize some of the strategic benefits of his current position. He places his hands behind his head as he surrenders to her whim. "I've heard some, too. No hard data, though. Maybe you should get to know him better and find out if he's more like Grant or Ravon." He wriggles a bit more for effect. "Nothing like first-hand intelligence, after all."

"Why Devon Treznor, are you suggesting I seduce one of our dear idealistic friends just to satisfy our curiousity and perhaps get a little intel? I suppose you'd have me hitting on Speaker next?" she says, gasping as he wriggles again, grinning more broadly and using her movements to work in harmony with his own.

The man closes his eyes suddenly and smiles as a pleasant shudder ripples through him. "My dear, I leave the details in your very deadly and capable hands. I'd run the op myself, but I suspect I'm not Hesche's type. As for Speaks, well, I suspect any impropriety toward him could result in some very...intense negotiations from his lady. We should probably reserve that strategy for another time when she can be included in the negotiations." He removes his hands from their passive position and places them where they can do the most good. "Gods, woman. Keep that up and you will be late."

She leans in murmuring something under her breath, then kisses him soundly as she presses close. "You are irredeemably without shame. Don't ever change." One last pleasant kiss and close embrace, and she's gently extricating herself, playfully swatting away his hands as they continue to grasp. "Damn the time."

Treznor rolls onto his side and watches her move without interfering for once. "Sauce for the goose, my dear. We'll be here a month. I, for one, plan to make the most of it."

"As close to a vacation as we've had in a while, now." She walks over to her bags, fishing around for a moment til she finds what she's looking for. Soft cotton shorts and a loose tank top make up the ensemble, along with plain, sensible underthings appropriate to the morning's activities. Nathi slips into them quickly enough, while offering Treznor the best views possible. She brings back her socks and running shoes, sitting down on the edge of the bed while she puts them on. "Hold those pleasant thoughs, hmm?"

"By the time you get back, I'll be in the broadcast room working. Lunch?"

"Definitely. I wonder if they'd let us take it in the room." Another kiss, and she's headed for the door, pulling her long hair back into a tail and securing it with a simple black hairband. "Until then, Dev. Going to see if I can't give those boys a new definition of 'on the bounce'," she says with a wink and a smile, then slips out the door to go meet up with the others.

Both Lady Nathicana and the Scolopendran guests were greeted and saluted by a palace butler, who kindly invited them to join the Princess outside in the gardens surrounding the palace...


Outside was a strange and surprised group of aelosians staring as both the Scolopendran delegation, and specially the males elves, to Lady Nathicana. The dozen of elves standing there were dressed in tight full body suits of a material similar to the neoprene suits of scuba divers. The color varied from the bright golden to the pitch black, depending on the individual. They were also stretching and clearly preparing themselves for taking a session of morning exercise, and looked like they were already up hours ago.

Aliria herself was at the front of the group, and was the one knocking the doors. She was wearing the same full body outfit as the other elves, although hers was of the purest white, fitting perfectly over her young, slim, body, and aroud her neck a strange beautiful collar made of mithril and golvarn shine, exactly like the one that was presented by the aelosian Empire to Lady Nathicana the day of her coronation. She had her hair grabbed on a firm ponytail, that gave her a move childish look, combined with the white of her clothes, she could look like a 15 years old human girl if it wasn't for her huge, clear blue elongated eyes and her long and pointed ears. She smiled at Nathicana as she bent her leg back and grabbed her ankle with her hand, standing in one foot with perfect balance.

"Good morning, Dread Lady of the Dominion, and wonderful tidings, Speaker of animal and Lord Hesche, Sire. I hope we could enjoy a nice morning of exercise. I took the liberty of inviting some friends, and my mother insisted to bring some security personnel, so here we are, ready for whatever you have in your mind", said the Heir to the Aelosian throne, as her group took different positions.

A pair of men were chatting right behind Princess Aliria, one dressed in a bright blue outfit, and another one with a yellow with black trim one (Yes, like Bruce Lee outfit in Big Boss), the first one sporting a raven black mane, and the second a bright long blonde hair. By their attitude, they looked like fine friends, and for the looks and gestures of the black haired, the conversation was about Nathicana, although the blonde haired refused to look at the human guest several times, his stare fixed at the void. Both of them also carried shoulder pads over their right shoulders with an heraldry design over it, and looked like high ranking personnel of some sort, being so close to the Princess and having such a casul attitude.

Four athletic women were around Aliria, dressed in the same outfit as the Princess although the color was a deep and dark red wine, and were the only ones in the group that carried a combat belt with a pistol hanging from it along their tighs, with a headset and a commlink fitted over her heads. For sure they were the fabled Berethauth, the WarMaidens that composed the Everqueen's personal army and own Corps bodyguard. They were trying to adopt a casual attitude, but their faces and gestures betrayed them, showing how they were nervous and uneasy about the situation at hand.

Another pair at their left were leaning against some sort of pillar, trying to be covered by the nearby shadow of the structure. Their outfits were black, and they remained suspiciously out of view, although the black complexion of the one closer didn't leave any doubts about the nature of them. They were not sindarin, but drow, the related cousins of the elven race which origins were in dark subterranean realms. However, their presence on that place for sure was important, because the group had been handpicked by the Princess herself.

Two more were really close to Speaker and Hesche, one of the women dressed in gold and the other in a green outfit, clearly high ranked nobles. Both of them were broadly smiling, and nodded to both Speaker and Hesche as they left the shadow of the towering castle, in their faces the intent of being polite and gentle to their guest, but also the bright intellect of skillful politicians trying to approach a situation with a good edge. The only main features that made them distinct from the rest was the huge entirely white eyes of the taller, younger woman in the green outfit, and the spark of emotion showed in the big eyes of the golden dressed.

Finally the last person from the group, another woman dressed in just a normal nike jogging shorts and a tank top, the only one not sporting the strange aelosian outfit, but strangely managing to keep her glasses on even for a sporting morning, approached Lady Nathicana and bowed her body a little forward, smiling broadly. Probably Nathicana could recognize her, as she was the envoy of the Everqueen the day of her coronation. She just winked to the human Lady as her body straightened, and placed a self-satisfying smile on her lips.

The kzintosh bristles slightly as he's referred to by an incorrect form of his old name, but other than a slight ticking noise in the back of his throat, a slight tensing of the jaw, and his fur bottling out slightly, he keeps himself under control--the kzinti are very name-conscious, with half- and full-names being marks of honor. 'Lord' Hesche nudges him understandingly with a little concern, even though he feels like beaming--there so many people around to appreciate, and instead of gawking or doing anything that would mark him as some sort of boor, he channels said desire to beam into being even more debonair than usual.

Stepping forward, he takes care of the diplomacy. "Good morning, fair Princess," he says with a polite yet playfully deep bow, "and good morning, Dread Lady." He is excellent about keeping eye contact, fixing his blue eyes on whomever he happens to be speaking to at any given time. "Hopefully everyone had a good restl; I know Speaker-Rrit and I are both ready for some invigorating exercise." He glances over his shoulder. "Isn't that so, sir?"

Speaker nods, becoming more genial as he follows Magnus' lead. "Hrr... yes." His fur smooths out as he lets the unintentional slight slide, relaxing through force of will. "Good exercise makes a good Hero."

"Buon giorno, mi amicos," Nathi says warmly, quite aware of some of the looks she recieves, returning them in like kind in her usual subtle yet shameless manner. "A fine morning for a bit of a workout indeed, though I can't say as I've ever had quite so many companions for one. Aliria, my dear - you look lovely, as usual. I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."

She nods and smiles in return to he Marquise Aleinna Cúthalion, whom she indeed remembered from the coronation. "Marchesa," she murmurs quietly, nodding in recognition, then looking back to Aliria, studying her necklace intently for a moment, making a mental note to quietly inquire later. What on earth she was going to be able to accomplish with such a gathering was a perpelxing puzzle, but ... adaptation tended to be the key to many a diplomatic quandary. This would be no different, she hoped.

Nathicana began her own series of stretches and warm-ups while the others exchanged pleasantries, wincing inwardly at the faux pas. If her angle and position happened to show off her 'assets', certainly it could be explained away by simple chance After all, sports bras were meant to support like that, weren't they? And she could hardly help the way the shorts hugged her curves as she stretched and bent, occasionally favoring one of the men, Hesche and Speaker included, with a quiet, appreciative glance.

Once the Scolopendrans had spoken, she straightened, and walked over to Speaker and the decidedly heroic-looking Hesche, smiling more broadly - albeit close-lipped. "Speaker, I'm glad to have you both here for this unique opportunity to teach, and this morning for the run. Always a pleasure, primo fra eroi." She puts out her hand to shake his in firm but gentle greeting, placing her other hand over both and giving it an affectionate squeeze. In the presence of so many strangers it seemed inappropriate for a more casual, familiar greeting, but she wanted him to know how pleased she was all the same. The rough translation of the title 'first among heroes' she meant as a compliment, and to acknowledge his place as leader among other greats - such was her high opinion of the kzintosh.

"And you must be Magnus Hesche? It would seem that rumor falls far short of the man himself," she says with a slightly mischievous smile, turning to the other man to shake his hand as well.

Aliria was surprised at the reaction from the Scolopendran kzintosh, being herself emotionally sensitive, a strnagely developed psychic gift. She wasn't able to read thoughts, to manipulate minds or to just place her nose where it didn't belongs, but she had the ability to feel sudden emotional subjects in subjects who drew her attention. And the Kzintosh was having her entire attention now...Of course, sh wasn't able to deduct the exact nature of the change or what caused it, but she felt and aura of unease around the Scolopendran magistrate, brief was powerful, and knew that he was one to be feared.

Her thoughts occupied her mind for less than a second, and she snapped them off quite fast, concentrating now on trying to make the kzintosh presence in Aelosia the most pleasurable possible, although already Nathicana was doing her best for it as she was almost purposely provoking both Speaker and Hesche. What's she up to?, what trick or purpose she's having in her sleeve?, she wandered for a moment, switching her gaze from Nathicana to Hesche and then from Hesche to Nathicana again. This is a political game, I can feel the facing wills of all the guest entwining with each other. This is what mother wants me to learn, I must focus on every one of their movements, words and emotions, and learn to foresee them, understand them, prevent them, counter them and assume them.

"It is a good morning, you only need to tell us if it is too warm or too cold for you, and we're be able to fix the climate if you want, respected guests...", said the Marquise Cúthalion, bowing again to Nathicana, and fixing her glasses over her eyebrows to take a good look over Hesche's silouette. "I'm glad you recognize me, your Highness, I'm glad to see that my small presence left a good and lasting expression", although her words were directed at Nathicana, she didn't switched her gaze off Hesche as she spoke...

The rest of the group had different reaction to the behaviors of the guests. the two drow came out of the shadow, one making a slight and perfectly balanced tumble over the floor to reach the group, with the grace of a hunting cat playing over the grass. The other walked silently and slowly, revealing himself not as a drow, but instead a really pale skinned and thin sindarin, as pale that his complexion looked sick and warped. The pair of elves with the shoulder armor pads over thir exercising clothes nearby kept looking at the guests, the one in the blue outfit having problems with not staring at Nathicana's visibly attractive angles, as Aelosian etiquette srictly enforced to not stare at a woman with lustful intent without consent, although the arrogant elf in the yellow one was barely failing to note the purpose on the movements of the human woman at all, with just a half grin of despise in the corner of his mouth as he finally noticed what she was really trying to do from his perspective. He still arched an eyebrow on an inquisitorial and curious way as the Speaker said the word "hero", and fixed his stare over him.

The guards reacted shifting their positions towards Aliria, assuming a each one the protection of each Aliria's angle from each cardinal point, although one was so distracted by Nathicana's movements that retarded a bit, in her eyes a hidden flame blazing as they fixed over Nathicana's curves.

"I was able to do that when I was younger, and single", said the woman in the golden outfit, smiling with a benevolent expression. "Too bad the aelosian traditions sometimes clashes too hard against the free spirit", she said in a really good spirited way, as happiness almost could fly out of the woman's voice. "It is good, however, to have the chance of enjoying that free spirit in guests, anyway", she finished, turning to the other woman, unable to see Nathicana's actions. Soon, from her slow and careful movements was evident than the taller woman dressed in green was blind, and unable to see her surroundings, although she closed her useless eyes to focus herself in her talented ear.

"I think I have been rude. I should present you to my today's companions, as they are the Mentors appointed by my mother from inside our country, the top of the creme of our society, from our point of view. They were eager to see you and to have the chance of sharing visions with you, the foreign mentors", Aliria said suddenly, "Or even better, they should introduce themselves, after all, all of them are pillars of our society, and respresents each aspect of our culture".

Most of the elves smiled, with the clear exception of the man dressed in yellow, the older looking guard and the pale one. The one dressed in blue took quickly a step forward and bowed in front of the guests, placing his right fist over his heart as he did so. "Viceroy ArchDuke Atheril D'nan, Mentor of the Heir in technology and development, it is an honor to be in front of such famous celebrities", he said, taking the time to fly a hand over his wondrous mane of hair.

"Celestrianna Paelisi, Imperial Chancellor and Mentor of the Heir regarding politics, law and courts. As you might imagine, it is indeed a pleasure. I have studied some of your famous actions, and both of you have even teached me a good pair of lessons", said the woman in the golden outfit, brightly smiling at Speaker and Nathicana, and turning to Hesche she added, "And I expect surprises and more lessons from you all".

"Baron Marlandras Phaelos. Mentor of the Heir in Magical and Mystical Arts, nothing more to add", said the pale one in a clear bored tone, as if he was wishing to be in some place else.

The drow chuckled, and took the sympathy of whistling at Nathicana. "I think you could call me Hound, the nearest word in your language to my real name. I'm the Mentor of the Heir in physical training, and a reknown artist, I might add", he said, like he was playing a prank of someone of the present.

"Speaker-Rrit, Lady Nathicana already know me, but you don't, so I must present myself to you. My name is Aleinna Cúthalion, and I'm in charge of teaching he Princess all about foreign relations and the outside world. I'm starting to think that after you came here, I'm already the most expendable of all Mentors", she chuckled, "Not that I would care, after all, that's less work for me".

The blind Lady turned to the direction from the voices came, and spoke in a really soft and musical tone "I'm the Lady of Minstrels, and try to direct the Heir to understand our arts and culture much better. It is a pleasure to know such individuals as yourselves. I'm sure we could compose endless ballads about your many deeds", after talking she fell suddenly silent, lowering her head to look to the ground.

The last, the one in the yellow outfit gave them a slight bow of the head, and crossed his athletic arms over his chest, one of his hands half covering his mouth as he spoke "I'm Prince Kithail Hyral, in charge of teaching the Princess about the military arts and the secrets of both strategy and combat. I have heard from you before, some of it was good, some of it wasn't, but with no doubt you have some interesting assets to show Aliria", it was strange from him to say the Princes' name, as all aelosians was entitled to treat her as Princess or at least place her title before her name.

Speaker returns Nathi's squeeze with one of his own from his broad orange-furred hand as he bows slightly, tilting up his chin slightly. While looking down one's nose is considered haughtiness to humans, subtly exposing one's throat is considered a sign of trust to kzinti. Being obvious about it is an archaic sign of fealty, which would be utterly unseemly if performed toward any human. "Mutual, kzaw-tzobu." The edges of his mouth curl upwards slightly as his pink ears nearly flit in the equivalent of a broad smile.

Even when surrounded by "polite" company, friendship requires no excuses.

He returns to stretching out his huge frame as Nathi moves on to Hesche, who returns the Dread Lady's handshake with almost but not quite predictable firmness while he casually returns the mischievous smile. Aha. So the game is afoot, two-sides fair evens. "So my reputation precedes me again, does it? I can only hope," he says as he bows politely yet somehow playfully low again, the traditional set-up for the debonair, swashbuckling kiss-of-the-hand, "that I exceed it in only the right ways, as you exceed yours, Imperatrice." Even while bowed low, though, he never raises Nathi's hand to his lips; even though his left arm is folded behind him in a gentlemanly fashion, the light still glints on the fine tattoo of metallic wire that traces over his arm in an almost infinitely complex and curiously cabbalistic pattern (that Nathi would find strangely familiar for some reason), somehow embedded into his skin as if it were grown there. Looking up to regain eye-contact with Nathicana, he releases her hand before stepping back and returning to his 193 centimeter height, mischievous light still shining in his eyes.

After returning Nathi's serve, Hesche sets about stretching himself, quite probably in a very similar fashion to Nathi except catering to the few people he surreptiously noticed who perhaps may be taking the time to appreciate it. All natural, all seemingly accidental, all very much part of the game.

This continues, as appropriate, throughout the introductions; the Scolopendrans find this odd for morning PT--always a social event, but never an event of 'high' society--yet flow with it, politely adapting. "I am Speaker-Rrit," the kzintosh introduces himself in his growling yet not unpleasant voice, "elected executive of the Federated Segments and Patriarch of the Race of Heroes by merit." He flaps his ears slightly. "'Kzin' is our word for Hero, which explains why I use that word often."

"Poetically," Magnus adds, twisting in a nautilus stretch. His physical training shirt is not exactly skintight; it is form-fitting, however, and designed to breathe to allow maximum comfort with the least chance of chafing. Useful in so many ways.

"Yes," the kzin replies with a chuckle. "Closest analog."

After a few moments indicate that Speaker is done, Magnus takes up his place in the introduction line. "I'm Senior Diplomatic Officer Magnus Hesche, professional envoy to new worlds. I've worked in IntRelate for quite some time and both risen the ranks and never quite reached the top due to my dashing personality." He winks slightly if anyone gives him an odd look; he also grins jovially whenever the kzin isn't looking to twitch at the sight of literally impossibly white teeth. "Other than that, not too much to see. Just a workaday man in a workaday world." Although all this sounds humble and humorously self-deprecating, he leaves by sheer habit just enough pride in his voice to make one wonder idly if he really is an egotist.

Speaker's subtle gesture had not gone unoticed. Among the many she knew and associated with, he was one who's opinion of her truly mattered. She had never before been one to have many friends. At one point, she had viewed it as a danger, a weakness. He and others had shown her differently, with a patience that still surprised her. Such confidence and such friendship was something she took quite seriously, and though she knew her actions would on occasion cause them concern, she had long ago drawn the lines for herself that she had determined said actions would never cross. Nathi glanced back at the 'tosh thoughtfully, giving a very subtle nod and smile before looking back to Hesche with a decidedly more mischievous expression.

"Chi più sa, meno crede," Nathi murmurs, looking him over more closely, one brow arching ever so slightly. "I can see there is much more to you than meets the eye, Signore Hesche - and than has been rumored. I look forward to the opportunity to learning just how much, time and opportunity allowing." She draws back, as the court is introduced, taking the time to consider each one in turn in her quiet way of weighing and measuring, nodding slightly to each if her gaze is acknowledged.

The raven-haired woman didn't mind the looks, haughty, appreciative, or otherwise - to each their own. She was who and what she was, and made no apologies about it, holding herself with a quiet sort of pride regardless of her actions, or lack thereof. As names and titles were matched to faces, some at least, of the reactions were made more clear.

"I can only hope we live up to your expectations, Chancellor," she replied to Celestrianna, returning the smile, then looking curiously at Baron Phaelos. This idea of 'magic' and 'mystical arts' had always been a curious one to her, coming from a nation where such things simply did not exist. Not that they were aware of. She had seen things that lacked proper explanation however, in the years since they had opened their borders, and reality had broken, allowing contact with so many other new, strange races. Though she still had doubts when it came to some claims, she had seen enough to satisfy the opinion that such things did indeed exist, here and there, and would most likely continue to remain a mystery to those like herself who clearly lacked the 'spark'.

Nathi gave the drow a subtle wink in turn, keeping her thoughts quietly to herself as to just what sort of 'arts' the man might be implying, though said thoughs seemed to amuse her, given the little smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. She nodded again to the Marquise, her smile genuine, only to look curiously at the blind minstrel, who's voice even in speaking was beautiful. How curious, she couldn't help but think, that it seemed the price for her excellence was the loss of her sight. The twists fate tended to make never ceased to amaze.

Ah, that woule explain much. Prince Kithail, indeed. One whom, if I remember correctly, has little love for those not of clean Elven lineage. Him, she gave another appraising look, though rather than speculative, it carried a hint of ... quiet challenge. Damned if I'll let one rotten apple spoil the barrel for me. Let him keep his opinions. I have my own.

"Nathicana D'Aquisto," she said by way of introduction, as had the others, though there was a clear note of pride in her voice as she spoke, her chin tilting up ever so slightly in that imperious manner she had - most likely on account of Kithail more than anything, there being no real need for it in this company. "Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion. Grazie - it is an honor." And with this, she made a graceful sort of curtsey, just low enough to be respectable without lowering herself enough to appear an inferior. Good manners and grace cost nothing, after all, but there was certain levels of decorum to be observed in such things, at least. Those who knew her well would know she only used her full title in formal situations - or when she had other designs.

"Shall we continue, then? By your leave, Your Highness,"she said to Aliria with a smile. Another subtle reminder for Kithail, if he were sharp enough to pick up on it.



Translation: The more one knows, the less one believes.

"Yes, of course", said Aliria returning Nathicana's smile quite warmly. "Please carry on. Those of us able to follow your lead will follow, and those who cannot will just watch us. It is just a nice morning exercise, no?. I hope you'll let me run at your side, Lady Nathicana, if I can keep your pace", she continued, arching her shoulders for a moment, as to change the attitudes to a more casual approach, as a group of friends out to enjoy a nice sunny day with a healthy practice.

"I think I'll be excused, as I need to watch about my friend here. I hope that won't hinder your training or your fun", said Celestrianna, taking the arm of the Lady of the Minstrels, who tried to refuse the offering of the Chancellor with some delicate gests but finally accepted it. "We'll make our best to follow you, and to try to share with you as most as possible".

"I'll have to be excused too. My physique is not made for the tiring and boring exercises of the body, but for the work of the mind, I'll try to follow you at a distance, anyway", said the Phaelos Baron, raising a hand on a strange and femenine way.

"I wonder why he came at all, then", said the Marquise Aleinna in half a hiss, half a whisper, loud enough for Nathicana and Speaker to hear it.

"Up for some running, and free of that bothersome Wraithbone armor!", said the Martian Viceroy cheerfully, placing his hand over the Hyral Prince's shoulder pad with a smile filled of mischievous intent and camaraderie. "Wonderful morning indeed. A race, Kith?. Just you, me and Hound. What do you think?", he said, winking to his partner.

The eyes of Kithail narrowed a bit, first focused on Nathicana, then in Speaker, and finally on the Lady of Minstrels, at that point his eyes changing to a worried and pitiful expression. "Not today, Ath. I think we should try to share with the guests, and keep the pace of the others, this morning is not a good occassion for challenges, not yet", he added, placing his own hand over his friends' shoulder and squeezing it a little, then taking a pair of steps towards the place where Speaker, Nathicana and Aliria were standing, for sure not missing even one of the signals Nathicana was sending him.

"An anticipation which is surely mutual," Hesche replies in his best just-short-of-hubris master of derring-do voice, half-smirking heroically before he and Speaker prepare to accompany Nathi and Aliria on their run. He tosses some teasingly appreciative glances towards Cúthalion, the kind that if caught one is hopefully left wondering whether he was actually looking or not. He doesn't resort to cheating to accomplish this... no, it is all well-practiced through years of experience. Gotta love someone who comes dressed appropriately for the occasion.

Speaker, meanwhile, simply watches the rest of the guests thoughtfully, coming to his own conclusions. Magnus is certainly in his element. I doubt he would even know what to do if he managed to 'catch' anyone; being a tease is simply what he does. I wonder why he is like that.

I certainly did not expect so many. He looks around at the veritable crowd of princes, nobility, guards, and whatnot surrounding the party. Perhaps it works for them. He yawns softly, his people's equivalent of a dismissive shrug before he comfortably follows whatever pace Nathi and Aliria assign.

"Your Highness, you are free to run wherever pleases you," Nathi replies. "I don't expect this to be a trial - this is for exercise after all, not a test of endurance." The slight hint of mischief in her smile may have left one wondering, all the same.

Those who leave are offered a quiet nod of acknowledgement, those who stay, a more firm nod and last cursory glance, her eyes lingering last on Kithail. "Perhaps there will be time later for such ... challenges," she says in a nonchallant tone, turning away and stretching one last time before setting into a steady pace, one designed for first warming up - not too fast, not too slow. She glances at her companions now and then, seeming quite content as they follow the path through the beautiful grounds of the Aelosian craftworld.

"Speaking of challenges," she murmurs in Speakers direction, accompanied by another subtle, mischievous smile, "I wonder if they wrestle here." Her eyes drift over to Hesche with a sidelong appreciative look, her smile increasing only slightly. "Or even what sort of hand-to-hand sparring they utilize. Could be an interesting ... exchange, such demonstrations."

Hesche chuckles, not even breaking a sweat on this run so far. "Oh, quite." He shamelessly returns Nathi's sidelong look with a wink. "All the ancient martial arts like those are great for bonding and learning one's limitations."

Speaker doesn't sigh audibly, but his nostrils do shut and open once. Behave, Hesche.

Aliria quickly took Nathicana's right, just a step behind her, easily keeping Nathicana's pace, jogging alonside her with the natural grace and swiftness of movement that was innate on her and her people. She managed to say a few words, although her eyes were fixed on the road ahead. "Not a trial, I know. I get every morning to run a bit perhaps, but not alongside you, Lady Nathicana. and that's the difference".

The drow quickly managed to follow the pair of women, and after several long and well placed strides, soon he was in front of them, running backwards, turned to the see the pair of women, showing a bright and mischievous, if not somewhat sinister, smile all over his dark features, like if he was thinking something interesting about the view of he two women jogin together.

The Hyral Noble just rolled his eyes as the women left, and directing a quick glance to his friend Atheril started to run smoothly alongside the Princess' guards, who were keeping the pace just a few strides behind heir charge, and really looking nervous about the fact she was getting a bit away from them. The D'nan Archduke quickly joined, alongside with the Marquise Aleinna Cúthalion, who seemed to be having a great time making fun out of her noble peers and comrades, chuckling as she managed to get past them and approached the front of the already crowded running line, where Aliria and Nathicana stood.

The view alongside the Palace gardens was awesome, with a red and orange sunrise coming out of a soft cover of clouds just above the horizon, just like Princess Aliria asked to be. Tamed, wild animals were everywhere, from several goups of deer that didn't look scared or even cared about the jogging group, to a black panther that merely raised his head a bit, for sure taken out of her sleep by the passing gathering. Soon several of the long, wolf-like yet lion-sized Hounds of Valinor, descendants of Huan, joined them happily, running all around the group and greeting them with powerful, if somewhat warm, barks that echoed through th careful crystal trees that mixed themselves with the imported natural vegetation that gave the gardens the pleasant, soft green view. Elves were everywhere, from the gardeners tending the Symbelmynë flowers to a group of bonesingers that used a lute and a flute to play a soft music around a crystal structure in the middle of a glade.

"It's a pity we haven't gotten together before, Hesche," Nathi observes lightly, taking the time to enjoy the beauty of the Aelosian grounds. "Still, I suppose we can make up for lost time now. As allies, bonding and learning limitations is important, no? I do believe I shall have to take you up on that later. It's been a while since I had such a ... formidable sparring partner."

To Aliria, she smiles and nods. "It is a definite pleasure to be able to enjoy your company, your Highness. So, while we have some time, is there anything you wish to discuss? Thoughts you may have concerning later subjects, questions about the Dominion or myself? Time enough for more detailed 'study' later, of course, but it doesn't hurt to get a feel for where we may be going."

Nathi flashes the dark-skinned drow a sly wink, not bothered in the least by his shameless observations. So many men, so little time? At least I've no lacking for a pleasant view, male-oriented or otherwise. I'd have my own compound stocked with some game if I didn't know my little Kostya wouldn't just make a mess of them. Sweet Jesu, these hounds of theirs make him look small ...

"Limitations are for those who have them," Hesche replies with a slight grin, "for the world belongs to the stubborn. Sparring is always an enjoyable pastime. Builds character and lets people get to really know one another."

"That's a comment entirely worthy of our respect, Master Hesche, Sire. Limitations are for those who have them, indeed", said the Marquise Cúthalion, quickly reaching Hesche's position. "But amongst us that breath, move and walk, who don't have such limitations?", she answered, smilng broadly. "It is not my intention to contradict you, Sire. I am just in the mood of having a...interesting sparring partner just for a bit"

Aliria smiled at Aleinna's comment and turned to Nathicana again. "Of course I am interested in knowing how do you treat politics, and how you administer order, law and justice through your domain, My Lady Nathicana", she finally said, in her face a more serious, weary expression. "That's why my mother invited you here for, even as I might find your company pleasant enough without your teachings", said the Princess grinning, looking for some complicity aura between Nathicana and her. "Said knowledge about your own political views and ways could hepl me to understand my own political field and to rule my country properly".

Meanwhile, the rest of the marvelous sight of the gardens of the aelosian craftworld blossomed in front of them, and finally the Hounds of Valinor outpaced ther group, barking and howling happily, opening the way for the Princess, her entourage and her apprecciated and beloved guests, through the delicate crystal walkways that crossed the entire garden complex.

"'For the world belongs to the stubborn' was the rest of the line, and that sums up my side of the argument," Hesche replies, grinning broadly as he works out various muscle groups as he runs. "Yes, it cannot be denied from a wholly objective standpoint that most have at least the limitations of the laws physical reality keeping them from doing everything they could possibly want. Nonetheless, with sufficient directed effort and knowhow, anything really does become possible. Whether or not someone is willing or in the end capable of making that effort is a mixture of personal effort and bum chance."

Aleinna opened her eyes wide, clearly interested in the words emitted by Hesche, not as concentrated in his muscles as the Princess' guard to his left was, although. She spoke with a soft, yet not really sensual tone of voice, fixing the pair of glasses that had slipped down her nose with the juggling, "So... you are a steady defender of the power of will as the main force that living beings can wield against any odds. It remembers me of someone in specific, of a childhood friend that although being younger than me defended pretty much that same kind of thinking. It marvels me, as that kind of thinking is pretty rare amongst elves, even as most of the objetives we achieve are achieved due to the fact of a long life that lend us the time to be stubborn until we succeed. However, I have found that, once we start a discussion over it, most elves defend side thinking over stubborness, quick of wits over willpower. So interesting...the deep reach of the human thinking is amazing, they are capable of having ten times more moral and philosophical positions than...us. More...and...broader, too...". Although she had spoken as fast as she could, (thing that quickly threw out most of the air out of her lungs and made her gasp in the last sentences), after she finished Aleinna adopted a glance and a posture that indicated that both memories and reflexions running freely through her mind, crashing against each other, were being carefully woven into an organized web, slowly and carefully.

"Marquise Aleinna Cúthalion is our specialist in human and other foreign cultures, she's clearly the closest thing to what we could call a human fan inside the Empire, so much that many could say that she doesn't like her own native culture. Thanks to her studies and ideological postures we have advanced so much towards the integration of our Empire with foreign human and other racially different nations, including the fact that you're here to teach me. She's also what we could call a genius, yet sometimes her babbling nonsenses about theorical and byzantine issues bore people to death, but she's nice enough to call out if you ask her politely to stop", said Aliria as her friend and tutor finished to speak, grinning to Hesche, then turning to Aleinna, who blushed as Aliria's grin turned into an open and friendly smile.

"Well, I've got some unfair talents which kinda skew my judgment on all that." Hesche shrugs, not losing a single breath at this pace. Generally being an ubermensch whose carefree presence is only mildly tolerable to the jealous must be part of those 'unfair talents.' "I've got a tendency to ramble on a bit too, when the spirit strikes me to. I certainly don't qualify as a genius or anything like that, but my opinions and thoughts are just products of my life. Everything I am today I got half by being stubborn and half because the cards dealt me gave me a hand where the required stubbornness is in my needs. I'm not saying that thought and planning and pure skill aren't a proper strategy to the eternal game; it's just that thinkers tend to limit themselves by thinking up impossibilities and boundaries in addition to the usual ones.

"Besides, ma'am," he says with a quickly bowed head to Aliria, "I'm a diplomat. I'd hardly be so gauche as to demand anyone to stop babbling, even if said babbling were boring. Still, I disagree in the case of the honored Marquise here; so far her statements are far from dull. Besides, she's cute when she muses." He flashes a winsome too-white-to-be-real toothy grin that's a bit too honestly jovial to go with the potentially flirtatious statement that preceeded it. Flirt or an honest compliment?

He's Hesche. They're probably one and the same.

Both aelosian women, Princesss and Marquise, blushed almost at the same time. After all, Aliria was still a naive young girl by her people's standards, and Aleinna was most familiar to reading complimets than to hearing them, mostly when she was the objetive of those. The aelosians were people used to compliment even their enemies, with few exceptions amogst them, but most noble women would be astonished and perplex to hear one from a stranger, and a foreigner.

Although Aliria kept her psychic emotional lectures about the man to herself, as they were confusing enough to extract a single, confirmed conclusion about them, she was wondering about the fact of how deep this human was, at each layer of his mind and soul, and how he was disguising and mixing his feelings. A magnificent liar, then. Noone knows when he's telling the truth, or what he really thinks or believe, no readable emotional reactions. Is this what it takes to be a perfect diplomat, like Celestrianna, and like this man for sure is?

Mark Albert awoke automatically precisely at what would be six-thirty AM Dulles time. His routine was so automatic that he'd flipped back the covers, gotten out of bed, and was halfway to the bathroom before he realized that the bathroom wasn't where it normally was. At that point his brain woke up and caught up, reminding him where he was. He took a moment to look around.

The furnishings were beautiful, of course. His slightly achy body reminded him of how comfortable the big bed he'd slept in was, and also reminded him that he was some kind of lagged. He tried to figure out exactly what kind of lag he was feeling as he headed for the bathroom. Jet lag didn't seem appropriate, but at the same time space lag sounded strange. Then again, he'd come through space, to a new planet - even if it wasn't natural, it was a planet as far as he was concerned - and now his body had to adjust to the new timezone. Then again, maybe it's the same timezone? he mused. What time is it here?

He looked around for a timepiece besides his wristwatch, which wasn't set to Aelosian time, but couldn't find one. So after he'd finished his buisiness in the bathroom, he went to the curtains in his bedroom and pulled one back slightly to look out.

It was dawn, fairly early, but light enough to see and to have washed most of the steel grey predawn out of the sky. He couldn't begin to guess the time. Ah well, he'd be summoned, or someone would come to tell him what to do, or something, he was sure. For now, he needed to get dressed. He usually slept only in his underwear. A quick search of the bedroom and he located his suitcase and his pressed buisiness suits in a spacious closet. He went back to the bathroom to wash up, then got dressed and took care of his hygiene. With that done, he abruptly found himself at a loss for what to do next.

Normally, after he finished the morning preparations that he had down to a science, Albert would have left for his office and the daily grind of Presidential buisiness. But today, there was no Presidential buisiness. He was on a diplomatic mission, and entirely at the mercy of whatever schedule his hosts had for him. Since no one had come to start the day yet, he had no idea what happened next. He wasn't hungry yet, he didn't normally take breakfast until around eight AM in Dulles. So, with nothing else to do, he decided to poke around the suite that had been assigned to him.

After about ten minutes of wandering, he found what was apparantly a sitting room or living room. Nice carpeting, comfortable chairs, a little table, and a bookshelf. Investigating the bookshelf, he found all manner of Aelosian books, mostly history. New ones too, not part of the collection Celestrianna had given him before. Thinking about those books naturally took his thoughts to Celestrianna. He wondered if she was awake yet, and if she was what she was doing. Maybe he'd see her later.

With nothing else to do, he selected a book at random, sat down in one of the chairs, and started to read.

Nathicana nodded in response to Aliria’s answer, going quiet for a bit and choosing just to listen to the discussion back and forth between the decidedly odd party while pondering what points to cover first in later discussion. The situation still had her feeling just a touch out of step, being so far removed from her usual quiet morning runs. Crowds for such a thing had never been her style. Still, it served a purpose.

Part of what Hesche said struck a chord – she never had liked limitations, regardless of reason, especially since her horizons had broadened somewhat, making things that had before been impossible, a simple fact of reality. A good and bad thing she supposed, giving her more while at the same time, making her want just that much more on account. That also was a point to cover with the heir apparent. Recognizing one’s limits, and weaknesses, and realistically being mindful one one’s strengths, and using it all to best advantage – whether one wanted to admit to the previous or not – was not something to be overlooked. How many leaders had fallen reaching too far?

Did she just say ‘human fan’? What an … odd sentiment. I suppose I’d never much thought of such a feeling existing regarding races, but … granted, there have been movements here and there within Devras society at least, showing a marked interest in one alien race or other, come to think of it. All that ‘Kzinterclaws’ merchandise around the holidays – now that was hilarious. I really ought to tease Speaker about that sometime. He did look rather adorable in that Santa hat.

“You’re terrible, Hesche,” she said with a soft chuckle, giving the big man a sidelong grin. “I’d wager we’ve gone far enough for the day, at least so far as the run is concerned. We’re not after training for a marathon after all, though a daresay there are several here who could manage it. What say you, your Highness?” This last was directed to Aliria, as was only polite.

“I only hope to have the opportunity to show just how terrible I can be,” the blonde-haired blue-eyed ubermensch replies with a brilliantly toothy grin that can only be described at this rate as classically Hesche. “The day is still young and the tour still new, so perhaps sometime later over activities previously mentioned.”

Speaker grumbles a quiet Arabic warning with a whiff of ginger, causing Magnus to shrug slightly in response. “Still, this’s just a simple run and not a PFT so there’s no need to go on if our hostess deems it unnecessary. I think we’ve made a mile or two by now, don’t you?” Even after the running, and the talking while running, the muscular man still hasn’t quite broken a sweat other than the usual heroic mist-upon-the-brow usually only seen in propaganda or advertising (which could be argued to be one and the same). No limits indeed.

“Be careful what you wish for, Magnus,” Nathi replies lightly, giving the man a sly, sidelong look, shifting her gaze to Speaker and wriggling her brows impishly after, all quite shamelessly.

“As for an earlier comment on the administration of law and order, to simplify; you implement a law, and you uphold it – simple as that. While it’s best to keep in mind how such laws will affect your people, there will be times when what’s best is not what’s most popular, and you need to be prepared to back it up. I’m certain the Dominion holds with a more … hands-on solution than perhaps some nations here do,” here she glances briefly at Speaker before looking back to Aliria.

“That is another thing to keep in mind – not all systems work for all nations, not all solutions are suitable for all peoples. You must find what works, and stay the course while learning to adapt as the situation calls for it.”

Speaker is none-too-happy about having Nathicana sell a police state, even if it is one he's friendly towards--kshat, helped support--while he himself remains tight-lipped about it; still, he wasn't asked and it wouldn't be polite nor diplomatic to simply butt in. Besides, Nathi's qualified statements manage to act as a simple reminder that someone of the less totalitarian school of thought was around. He just impassively glances back at her whenever she looks at him, concerning either Hesche or her own statements.

"It was your suggestion, ma'am," Hesche replies with a voice still showing no hint of shortness of breath, "and who am I to find fault in the interests or company of a beautiful lady. That beautiful ladies happen to be in abundance here only makes me that much more happy to oblige."

The kzintosh represses a groan.

"Still, though my opinion was unasked," the blonde-haired man continues after a pause.

Another repressed groan.

"The good Dread Lady is right, in some ways, and wrong in others. It's true sometimes what's best isn't at all popular and you'll have to be firm about it... although said firmness need not be 'hands-on.'" With how he looks back at Nathi and winks with a brilliant grin, the whole phrase has 'double entendre' not only written all over it but actually carved repeatedly into every facet with a power router. "It can be diplomatic, or economic, or as simple as continuing to support it in the face of opposition. The more rough approaches are only for emergencies and when one's reasonably certain that all sides will kiss and make up in the end.

"On the other hand, there are times where you'll make the wrong call and someone else will point it out. That's fine; however, try to time retracting it and making things right so that if people get the idea they can sway your opinion it'll only be through, say, reasonable debate or a quiet protest or two instead of massive work stoppages or Molotov cocktails thrown into office buildings. It's all social engineering in the end."

Both brows arch as Nathicana listens to Hesche speak, delicately dabbing her face and neck with her small towel. Her chin tilts up in an all-too-familiar way to those who know her well, though she holds her peace til he’s finished.

“As I said, you have to tailor your choice of method to your people and situation. There is always a time and place for force, be it light, or swift and decisive. And there are times for more subtle measures. One would think that in keeping the balance right for your people would avoid any such regrettable incidents of terrorism or rebellion.”

She pauses, taking a slow sip from her water bottle before continuing. “Give your people what freedoms you find appropriate. And for the rest, give them at least the illusion of freedom – enough to keep them content, and comfortably distracted. Therein lies some of the crucial balance. Not all causes detract from the smooth operation of government after all. If you rule with an unforgiving iron grip, you’ll soon find your control slipping right through your fingers, as history has repeatedly shown.”

“I’m not sure how like in spirit Elves and humans are in some respects, but in my experience, there are breaking points for any civilization and people. I would suggest taking care you never reach that juncture.”

Aliria stopped and gave to Nathicana her entire, undivided attention as she spoke, her huge, clear eyes completely fixed upon the pleasant features of her foreign teacher. Even as her gaze switched to Hesche and to the impressive form of the Speaker to Animals as they spoke for themselves and expressed their points of view (in the case of Speaker, in a more subtle way than just plainly speaking).

Although she nodded to Hesche's speech, as her eyes were illuminated as if she agreed with everyone of his ideas, it was clearly the ideas of a police state by Nathicana what interested her the most.

As the Dread Lady finished her statements, she took the chance to grab her hand and entwine her fingers with those of the human mentor. "If you already have all the exercise you needed, my lady, then we can rest, or talk, or listen to music...", she said, leading Nathicana towards a exquisite carved stone bench nearby a tiny fountain right in the roadside.

"Or to ride, or to have a nice look of a swordplay contest", continued Aleinna after Aliria paused for a bit. "These gardens are yours to use in any way you see fit, Honoured Guests. And we are all here to serve your wishes and desires, as long as you comply to the Everqueen's petition of teaching the Princess about your ways in politics, rule, order and life as a whole", she said, smiling towards Hesche, in a...special way

Hesche offers a subtle shrug to the 'tosh concerning the conversion of Aliria to faith in the police state. Despite his best efforts, he can't win them all.

Speaker ignores this and instead bows politely to Aleinna, as Aliria has already left and it isn't his scheduled time to speak anyway. "You are far too kind. Still, we would be impolite guests if we did not accept what is offered with gladness. Thank you." He pauses, looking around. "After changing back into something more appropriate, I may avail myself of a walk here until the Princess sees fit to call on me." Always interested in new places, Rrit watches the birds in the trees and finally listens to the music, now that Hesche isn't going to go off and try and corrupt the Princess' mind for justice.

"I'll teach as best I can, ma'am," Hesch says to Aleinna with a smile bordering on a slightly wry smirk... or it would be wry, if his eyes would just let go of that mischievous gleam already, "but whether any of it gets picked up or not is beyond me. In the meanwhile, as Nathi's ear is getting bent, I figure that seeing the sights and meeting the people would be a decent idea... and, like every travel book ever says, the best way to learn about a new place is to meet a friendly local and ask them nicely to show you around..."

That Aleinna is the 'friendly local' referred to is dependent only on eye contact and a friendly, slightly-crooked-in-a-good-way smile, oriented in such a way that the kzintosh doesn't see it while he's otherwise distracted.

As Speaker turned around to listen to the music, one of the players stopped and lowered the harp in her lap to look at the Kzin. Almost gaping in surprise at first, she soon directed a sincere, wide smile at the foreigner and beckoned him to approach the little orchestra with a motion of her hand and a gleam in her painfully beautiful grey eyes, pointing at a stone bench right in front of the little glade where they were playing.

The rest of the musicians were still playing, perhaps what Speaker would label as "the typical elven music". Just one harper remained playing, accompanied by a fiddle, a pair of flutes, something looking like a big guitar and a lute. It was a melodic music, based more in poliphony than in harmony, escaping in fugue then returning to a merry, almost shallow theme that somewhat fitted the garden environment, the music expressing how beautiful was just to lie in the soft fresh grass looking at how the wind played with the clouds.

Aleinna cocked a lovely eyebrow as she listened to Hesche's words, aware that the man was a bombom, a genius, and a piranha at the same time. Mom warned me about this kind of guy. How interesting!, she thought, turning to head towards a nearby fountain, letting know Hesche with a glance that she would like him to join her to a more private, retired place.

The kzintosh chuckles softly to himself and accepts the offer, wandering over, bowing politely, then sitting down. Kzinti music generally tended towards the a cappella with perhaps some percussion accompaniment back in the olden days. Now it's more varied, with other instrument concepts borrowed from other cultures, but still close to its roots, which are decidedly Doric in Terrestrial terms. His personal tastes are quite eclectic, and this fits in there somewhere even if the tones are different than what he's used to. "If I may ask, what is this song? Is it something traditional, or is it extemporaneous?"

* - * - *

Hesche smiles, catching the glance and following along discreetly after politely excusing himself. This truly was shaping up to be an excellent tour, with so many new people and places to appreciate... and trouble to skirt. While he couldn't be honestly accused of being a skirtchaser, he certainly is a documented flirt and a spirited one at that, given his rejection rate. Near totality, actually, although he certainly had a connection with that Vrakian woman--human, of course; whilst Hesche has hit on everything from 'rets to dragons they all have to be sufficiently humanoid enough to offer the correct curves for appreciation--but that didn't get anywhere, and he's no worse the wear for it. He occasionally wonders if she is, but it was always professional and hopefully it's just a sigh-inducing memory by now. He can sleep at night with that.

As always, those few times where he actually seems to catch the opposite gender's interest in some way other than as a boor are the times when he has to step the most carefully. He knows for a fact people wonder why he is the way he is. He'll never tell.

The woman with the harp smiled widely, and turned to her companions, who ended the song without rushing in, a natural and soft coda that finalized the work.

The fiddler turned to the kzintosh, and after standing, he politely bowed as much as his waist allowed him to do, bending his body in a show of deep respect and admiration. Then he spoke, in a calmed, slow tone, almost as if he was under the effect of some kind of drug, or alcohol. "It is a mix of the two, Speaker to Animals, Sire. We were in an impromptu about an ancient theme. Most of us are too young to remember the true sinadrin traditional music, so we try to just play something along the same line. And aelosian music today comprises every kind of music, even the craziest ones, after the state decided to subsidize music"

The woman with the harp that first summoned the Kzintosh then rose, and left her instrument in her seat, taking a pair of steps toward the place where the big Tiger shaped humanoid was. "We are here to serve you, my Lord. We would like to know what exactly you want to hear, so we can do our best to satisfy you with our efforts of playing it. Your wishes are commands to us", she said, bowing as the man did before, yet with more style and grace.

Aleinna quickly turned To see as Hesche left towards a nearby glade. If I follow him now, I won't have a turning back. But isn't an affair with a human my most seeked dream? This is a human, and the most pleasant human I have ever met, so what's wrong with it?. After waiting some seconds to give Hesche a discret heading start, she also excused herself and after a misleading turn, went to the encounter with Hesche...

If one were to ask the bit of Speaker that he keeps locked well behind several walls of diplomacy and tact what got on his nerves more, he wouldn't honestly be able to say. While kzinti culture is quite simply centered around honor and the acquisition of Names as recognition for honor of the highest kinds and so this repeat of being referred to by his no-name is aggrivating, in both kzinti and Scolopendran culture the phrase "willing slave" is a nearly deadly insult (perhaps odd coming from a culture with a heavy Islamic background). He rationalizes, though, quite calmly under his exterior of appropriately feline calm, that they mean no insult by ignorance and they are only intending to be what qualifies as courteous and hospitable in their culture, even if it is gratingly obsequious to him. In proper Arab custom, the host offers and the guest accepts... but the 'Pendrans are not necessarily proper Arabs all the time, having quite a bit of Western influence. So, simultaneously as a diplomat and the paragon of two cultures, the kzintosh only allows the intent and not the content to have meaning.

Besides, he still has to make up in his own mind for that slip with Aliria earlier, and, as a guest, it is only appropriate for him to appreciate his host's hospitality. Doesn't mean he has to roll over, though. "I would like to hear whatever you enjoy playing. It does not make sense to go out into the world and ask everyone to do what one can experience at home." He smiles thinly, because that's the only way he physically can, with his batwing ears flicking good-naturedly. "New and different cultures are pleasant to me. I can only impose so far as to ask that you stimulate my curiosity, please." He bows respectfully in turn in his seat.

* - * - *

Exploration. That's what he always called getting lost since forever; it's stuck now. The instant he can't see the path he's just left and is seeing new things, he's exploring and loving every moment of it. Other people tend to call such a situation 'lost' in extreme circumstances. Sure, this may be a closed, limited park on a giant starship strategically situated in the middle of nowhere and so all he has to do is walk briskly in any direction to stop being 'lost,' making the moniker moot. In Magnus' philosophy, on the other hand, the level of exploration is directly proportional to the amount of lost one is; exploring is really just the art of getting lost in a systematic, retrievable fashion. So, wandering around in a park as he is, seeing trees he's never seen before and walking on grass he's never walked on before, hearing twittering birds he's never heard twitter before, that is to some extent being 'lost' and therefore has a bit of exploration in it. Everything looks, smells, tastes a bit different than he's used to and that's hardly a bad thing. Indeed, it's a good thing. When he gets unlost he'll be that much wiser through his experiences and, hey, he may even get to clamber over an obstacle or overcome a challenge or two along the way.

Y'know, I could go for some rock climbing. Looking around, he sees no sheer cliff face to scale simply because it's there and shrugs internally. Oh well. His mind wanders to other things, such as remembering why he decided to go exploring instead of change into something more dashing in the first place. Another challenge, he supposes, but not in a stereotypically male way, not a challenge in the sense of a potential conquest. Life is challenge; it has challenges physical, moral, and ethical; challenges spiritual, philosophical, rational, and emotional. Through meeting challenges one becomes stronger in the most positively-read Nietschean sense; by actively seeking challenges one seeks one's own testing and improvement. Doubt and worry are normal things that deserve to be noted, but too much or too little of either invites harm. No, they are simply warnings that, as long as they serve the purpose of honing the mind for the challenges ahead and naught else, are perfectly beneficial just like everything else in this best of all possible universes.

Looking around a bit more, Magnus sees a clump of flowers. Walking over to them he kneels down and sniffs gently, head almost to the ground, no need to pull the life from the earth. They smell nice, quite a bit too richly aromatic for his tastes but it's a new smell.

The group of minstrels bowed deeply, quite in awe of the corteous approach that their guest had offered to them. In Aelosia, minstrels were prepared and educated to offer and please the guest in whichever way the guest wanted. Their vocation of service was perhaps equal to those of the human geishas, and they based their life in the notion of serving in a noble way. The Noble way in aelosian standards was to make all those around as comfortable and pleasant as possible. Free will, or free choice wasn't exactly important when you were travelling the Noble way, as those in it had as the greatest pleasure to do exactly what those around them wanted to.

"You are placing in shame our best courtiers, Sire, by being so kind to us, yet we will play anything you want to hear, Liege", said the woman, bowing her head again with an exquisite movement. "We are minstrels, and we are here to please you, in whatever way you desire...Whatever way, no need to be so courteous with simple minstrels", she repeated, managing to smile in an honest and sincere way to the Kzin.

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"A human that can smell and appreciate flowers and yet no rip them from the ground? That is an improvement!", said a voice coming from all around Magnus, with an echo so strange that wasn't possible to pinpoint the origin of the sound. The voice was impressive, echoing and powerful, yet no imposing or threatening, like a good willed god, with a color foreign to any voice Magnus could have ever heard, not entirely mechanic or eletronic, yet with an automatic chime too well calculated to be organic.

Magnus Hesche was alone...As alone as he could be, yet the voice kept echoing all around him. "Could you be so kind to tell me your name?, the last time I met a human was eons ago, and I would like to know the nick of such a splendid specimen of that waning yet once proud race. Well, unless you want to wait for the elven maiden that seems to be looking for you"

The geisha relation isn't completely lost on the kzintosh, what with friendly-as-welcome-kin Karmabaijan's decidedly Occidental bent. Some of the old Islander traditionalism still managed to peek out here and there from underneath the rampant technofetishism and very-few-holds-barred corporatism that generally defines the Okie image in the minds of outsiders. That and he still has to be a good guest, which means playing along with the host to some reasonable extent. To this end he chuckles softly, a sort of soft hrrr-hrrr-hrrr of a jovial growl while his ears flicker. Somewhat theatrical, given that the usual kzinti chuckle is just a whiffling through the nostrils, but sincere nonetheless. "I cannot bear to shame those as honorably cultured as yourselves," he says with the thin smile his felinid face is limited to, "but it pleases me to be courteous as that is how a proper Hero should act around such grace."

The slightly smug feeling in his mind could be summarized as 'put that in your pipe and smoke it' except less aggressive. It's true, though. Being polite is usually its own reward and only fitting in these circumstances. "Now, we can't let mutual politeness prevent us from proceeding apace." Another wink of his ears as he thinks for a moment. "Hrrrr. It would please me to hear whatever song is currently popular here, or otherwise a piece of music you're most proud of as a people. One can learn greatly from the music of other cultures, and philosophers have commented on how it tends to soothe the savage beast and whatnot." He chuckles again. Hopefully mildly self-depricating humor wouldn't be taken too amiss.

* - * - *

Normally an omnipresent voice coming from the trees and the rocks and the skies so casually commenting on future hanky-panky would make a man jump up, look around wildly, and probably blush a great deal, especially if he were of a prudish or puritanical bent. The Segments aren't particularly puritanical, but as a nation it does have a sense of decency, prudishness, and perhaps shame about some things; meanwhile, while Hesche is well-tanned for a white-skinned blonde-haired blue-eyed man he still looks like he could go several shades redder if the capillaries in his face involuntarily willed it.

It may come as no surprise that Hesche isn't exactly normal and isn't exactly the most easily shamed of men, then. He listens, surprised but not exactly startled, weighs, and estimates. If the voice is coming from all directions at once, there are two options: the entire forest (ship?) is talking to him over good old sound waves and that would mean anyone nearby could probably hear, and he doesn't think he's that far away. The other option is that the sound may not be within his ears, so to speak, which would make sense and suit him better, as he's not really one to talk aloud to himself. "Certainly, good disembodied voice, but let me perform an experiment first."

Even that much spoken aloud in his heldontenor voice makes him feel silly. He glances at the fine metal-thread tattoo occultly snaking up and down his healthily-muscled left arm, decides it would be cheating, and then sits down on the grass cross-legged in the lotus position. Smiling in a way perhaps too mischeviously joyful to be serene, he looks for all the world like he's meditating.

What he's actually doing is speaking in his head. The name's Magnus Hesche, Senior Diplomatic Officer of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra and envoy to new worlds. I'm pleased to meet you, even if you have me at a disadvantage. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking? He decides there's no point in discussing the 'waning yet once proud' race crack; besides, it was forwarded by a compliment and so there's no need to jump out and start defending the species all of a sudden.

All in all, he seems maybe a bit too used to this.

The musicians just moved their shoulders up and down, like resigned. The woman took his instrument and took a seat before directing another warm smile to the Kzin. "Speaker, Sire. you have nothing to envy from our nobles, and they are for sure happy to have you here. You seem to follow a code that adapt perfectly to their postures, and we will regard you always as a hero, because you seem in every way to deserve the treatment", she said, before dedicated herself to play with the others.

The music was based in traditional elven melodies, being entirely polyphonic in a style that the Sindarin was proud to master. Perhaps music was the favourite art of the elves from Aelosia, finding pride in being direct descendants of mithycal musicians like Lúthien of Daeros of Doriath. It was complex and baroque, changing tunes as the notes went high and down, and yet retained a sense of simplicity similar to the human's rennaissance.

Soon the woman with the Harp joined her voice to the syncretic harmony, in a register so rich and pure that could place in shame any opera soprano...

To everything
There is a season
And a time for every purpose
under the stars

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

A time of war, a time of peace
A time of love, a time of hate
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time to love, a time to hate
A time of peace, I swear it's not too late!

To everything
There is a season
And a time for every purpose
under the stars

(OOC:Yeah, I know. time to rip off, but after all this is an alternate universe, and I tried to tear my brains off trying to make poetry in english and nothing came out)

It was a famous song in Aelosia, a song that described in good part the sentiments of those living in the Craftworld, that accepted that everything could happen and that everything through life had to be accepted...

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A pleasure to meet you, Magnus Hesche, Senior Diplomatic Officer of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra and envoy to new worlds. Fancy title, by the way, I'm sure the elves around you love it. But you should be visitating new worlds, and not standing in this millenia old travelling can, said the voice, using a sweet, almost sticky intonation, with yet a hint of a smudgy, wry tone.

To meet me, and you can be sure I meant no harm to such precious body your parents built, you must find the hidden trapway below the water in that fountain with the dragon to your right. If my name is what you want to know, I am Lakhmesis, the Polymarch. You have an interesting dilemma now, Magnificent Magnus. You must decide if you want to continue this interesting conversation and receive the wisdom and gifts I have to offer, or to stay here until the elven maiden that is following you, also a nice and young specimen of her race, finds you and tells you about her lustful desires regarding your physical form. You have a pair of minutes, I guess, continued the voice inside Hesche's head, now the laughing tone being more evident.

That it bears an uncanny resemblance to Ecclesiastes isn't lost on Speaker; after an initial surprise, however, it strikes him that no matter one goes people are still people, and those who think similarly enough to communicate will inevitably have similar ideas given enough time and similar circumstances. The apparently cyclical nature of many things would of course give rise to many Qohelets of many different names and many different faces. Hrrr. If Mullah Kadira were here, or Sizhfa-Ch'johr, they would be able to make more of it. Of course Ecclesiastes isn't part of the Qu'ran, but to the kzintosh's almost absolute lack of professional learning in such things all the Abrahamic religions are essentially the same to him. They merely disagree about particular important people having arrived yet, and the Muslims have the greatest presence in his country.

And if this is popular... Speaker bows slightly in his seat. "Thank you. We have thoughts similar to this back home. It brilliantly illustrates that wherever one goes, people remain people and all cultures share things in common." That most Scolopendrans don't really believe in accepting things and instead prefer to change them to what they see as better isn't exactly important at the moment and needs not be said. "Is there any interest in foreign songs here? If so, I may know a few." His batwing ears twitch once again, thin black lips turning up at the tips.

* - * - *

Part of Magnus' mind walls off with a Masonically professional partition of heavy brick and mortar and behind it, he gets to thinking. To the outside world, those looking at his physical body and those not actively trying to force their way into his head, he is calm, tranquil, and in a Zen state of absolute nothingness. On the other side of the wall, he's still Zen but in a far more... directed fashion. The thoughts are wordless, but if their distilled purity was marred with language it would read something like this. A choice between two different kinds of adventure. Both leads to parts unknown, although there are suggestions to the ends of each one.

Assumption: I am not being deliberately mislead.

If so, then anticipated possibilities of continuing down the current path become more probable. Anticipated complications based on hormonal motivations for acting by both parties are of course more probable. Mutual benefit potentially limited by same complications, and the challenge is one of managing emotions and expectations rather than particularly doing 'the right thing.' If this is not pursued, it is motivated on the active part by an irrational desire; not good, not bad, but not directed. Feelings may--will--be hurt but it becomes an opportunity on her part to reconsider, and an opportunity on my part to have a greater challenge: to establish a closer relationship (if any) based on understanding of the other's personality rather than some sort of momentary paraphilic lust.

If so, that opportunity is repeating. The currently offered opportunity probably is not, and it offers the possibility of greater knowledge and, if nothing else, a swim.

Assumption: I am being deliberately mislead.

If so, possibilities range from it being a mild prank--very little lost--to a real danger. If it is a real danger, it is a threat not only to me but also mine; it is quite possible the people here do not know of it and thus it becomes a matter of duty that the threat be eliminated. It is also possible the locals know about it and aid and abet; if this is the case, then it is my duty to reconnoiter it report back to Speaker.

Conclusion: take Lakhmesis' offer.

The wall blips out of existence after ten seconds or so, and his next thought returns to easily readable English. Hell, I didn't even have to think about it that hard. Should just go with my gut reaction next time.

He smirks to no one in particular in the glade and stands up. Anyway, Polymarch Lakhmesis, I think I'll take you up on your quest. It's not every day someone telepathically offers me positive-positive choices between two different forms of adventure--I could also use a swim. As for the titles, only the senior D.O. part is really official. Being the adventurer he is, he checks his pockets: keycard to his room, ID card, paperclip, loose bits of string. Deciding on a course of action, Hesche quickly gathers a few handfuls of small stones and piles them up in the middle of the clearing before placing his ID card on top, grinning photograph face up. It wouldn't do to have her think he's just leaving her in the lurch and it gives him an excuse to look her up later; the card is important enough to get back but not so important that if he doesn't things will go horribly wrong. Picking a single yellow flower, he puts that on top of everything and runs off to the fountain with thirty seconds to spare.

"Yes!, or course", the elven lady said, perhaps a little suddenly overeager, after the entire band bowed in respect to their guest, happy to had been pleasing to him. "We love foreign music, even as we do not have as much contact as we would like with foreign cultures or envoys"

"Please tech us some of the music of your people, we would be delighted to try to play it!", another elf in the band said, smiling widely. "For sure your people have an interesting voice. Perhaps you can sing as we play?"

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Quickly, Magnus, reach for the trapdoor under the water, said the soft voice inside his head as he approached the fountain, which depicted a big silver statue of a huge dragon in all its glory, standing in two legs with the huge wings spreaded and its mouth opened as if going to release its dreaded breath. The statue had a detail, a knight clad in ancient armor and his face covered by a helmet clinging to a saddle raising a cavalry lance in the air as a symbol of victory.

15 seconds, if she sees you or finds that you are coming here, you won't find me, so try to not make a fuss of water, the voice announced as Hesche entered the fountain's water, strangely more than three meters deep. Take a deep breath, the hatch is a bit difficult to find and you have only one shot, but for sure you are up to the task, no?

"It would be my honor," the kzintosh says with a bow. "Most songs are in Arabic or English, but one has been translated to both and seems to work." A momentary pause, and the kzintosh hums a few bars. While not professional, his vocal work certainly isn't bad and isn't unpleasant to hear, despite the natural roughness in his voice. The tones are on key and range from low bass to mid baritone, and the tune he hums is jaunty, but with pauses and tricky note combinations that suggest a touch of... teasing. "I am afraid if you didn't hear Officer Hesche speaking earlier about stubbornness being a key virtue this may be out of the blue," Speaker reverts to normal speech, "but this song became popular sometime after a time of controversies in business and government. 'Too slick to stay standing' became a common phrase then."

He gets back into the tune, but properly singing now. English is often shorter than Arabic and so to fit the words are stretched, but they fit. The song's clearly written for a human lead singer (a tenor or an alto) but the idea hopefully gets across.

Mister Bureaucrat, tapping his pen
Wondering how to get 'round this again
Long nights and paper reams ain't his thing
Rather go out and revel
Learn how to sing
But here he is, in his swivel chair
Crunch time in office and it isn't fair
All that work that he didn't do
Can't be skipped when the time is due

Miss Businesswoman watching her arm
Wristwatch counting down to utter harm
Bein' slick, knowing the tricks were her joy
Finding all the loopholes
Makes investors less coy
But what's game for one is game for two
In the latest round opponents came through
Now it's down to the count, them or us
And there's no way to avoid the fuss

The politician is all sternness and frowns
At what the newspapers have found
He's a paper-thin mirror, not what he seems
He reflects people's wants
He gets what he needs
But his life is public and not all of it clean
Nothing illegal, but opinion's getting lean
Now the cameras are out and the lights are hot
And no petty evasion's gonna unboil the pot

Sometimes working smart's not enough
Being sly won't do it all when times are tough
Life has a way of making it true
That sometimes the only way out is through.

Excess humility is unbecoming to a Hero, but Speaker feels as if he must qualify. "Normally I would have done a Heroic song from my culture," he says, pronouncing the capital letter, "but kzintsu'ng is a harsh language. You may have had trouble repeating it, or at least finding an audience." His ears wink again.

* - * - *

I'll have you know I'm the only person in the Corps who has a Platinum Swimming Certificate, Hesche thinks as he slips into the drink, eyes closed just long enough so his lashes won't get in his eyes when he opens them. Being a fountain, the water's probably chlorinated to purgatory and back; being a trooper, Hesche shrugs off the burn. The light is as good as in a swimming pool and Magnus swims like a fish to the bottom. Between his eyes and hands he scans the bottom and sides of the pool with eyes and fingers. Finding a couple of little recessed niches like recessed hook loops in the bottom of the blue-painted fountain fountain he works his index fingers into them, braces his feet against the wall, and pulls.

The elves of the band made polite bows as the kzin ended, and then joyfully, smiling all the time, clasped their hands to give the foreigner a warm applause. A pair of couples, with no doubt some young elves out in the gardens for a walk, had approached the Kzin during his song and now the joined the applause, adding cheers, clearly not aware that the Speaker was one of the Princess' mentors.

One of the elves, the woman with the harp, placed her hands over her cheeks as the Kzin made his ears wink. "Look what a cute thing he makes with his ears, Isn't he lovable?", she said, perhaps a little bit louder than she would.
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And that's it. You make me proud, kid, said the voice as Magnus found the hatch, a pressurized trapdoor with a turning wheel just like the hatches dividing sections of old submarines. It was made of bright silver, perhaps an alloy of mithril, and was gleaming enough to be easily found. After Magnus gave the wheel two turns, the hatch opened up and the water started to be soaked by the hole left.Quickly, get in, the hatch automatic system will close it in 10 seconds...Or was it five seconds? Sorry, I do not remember, said the voice, almost with a chuckle.

Speaker curls the tips of his thin black lips up into a thin little smile and, to his credit, it lacks any sign of teeth. While it would be appropriate for a 'tosh to get mildly miffed at being treated as a cute little thing because of a smile-equivalent, no insult is intended and so after a few moments none is taken. "This?" He winks his ears again, and indicates them with one half-orange half-white furred finger. "It is the same as a smile. Our lips are not as... agile as yours."

He also has the presence of mind to bow respectfully to those applauding. Praise is a good reward for a Hero, after all.

* - * - *

Surprise surprise, the little hook-loops were just that; loops for hooks. Looking to the side Magnus sees the dog previously described, stifles a sigh--being underwater--and shifts over to that. Hatch undogged and open, he feels the tug of water being sucked out. Hm. Opening it against pressure without cheating... must be motor-assisted. Getting his hands in along the rim of the hatch, he curls his legs up and pulls himself through with the aid of water pressure, legs out to land (or slide, depending on the breaks) on whatever solid surface may be on the other side.

"Now that's original", said a tall elf in a black robe, using a funny tone, and all the elves laughed happily. What could be easily read in their laugh is that they were trying to laugh alongside Speaker and not at Speaker. Aelosians had not the notion of laughing openly at those they thought ridiculous, for them laugh was a high spiritual rite, of cleansing and purification. Purification created by nice situations, and great positive emotions.

Aleinna came out to the glade, not just a bit pissed at the dissapearance of Magnus after she had been following his tracks for more than a while, where the Kzin was still sharing some time with the band and the onlookers, holding in her hand an ID card, and with a yellow flower dressing her ponytail. She dropped the card as soon as she saw Speaker in the middle of the crowd, opening her clear eyes as big as dishes in surprise and in what looked like fear and worry. Her garments, a tank top and a pair of suggestive shorts, were sweaty, and she looked like both hurried and excited.
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Magnus indeed entered a slide, something pretty similar to the water amusement parks in human lands, but pretty much shorter. The surface of the cylinder in which he traveled was soft and perfectly even, wet wraithbone with no doubt, until he finally crashed in a little pool knee deep in what looked like a extremely clean, perfectly kept sewer system room.

The water was clear and clean as that of the fountain, and some of it still rained over Hesche for a while until it suddenly stopped, signaling that the automatic system of the upper hatch finally had closed it. The square room showed an aperture for a medium sized pipe at the left and right, with a slow current of water passing through a little channel in the middle of the place. The exit from the slide remained behind Hesche and a strange door in front of him.

That's my boy, made it in one piece. And yes, I know you are thinking exactly the same I am going to tell you...The door, through that door, said the velvet voice in Magnus' head, again chuckling a bit.

It was a door also made of wraithbone, as most structures of the Craftworld were. Yet this one had several different ingravings. Symbols carved in brown wood, silver mithril, black golvarn and white rubber alternated themselves alongside the sides of it. It was just a bit taller than Hesche, but the artwork of the artisan behind it was without any doubt exquisite. It had no lock, no handle and no further details, and looked pretty stuck to the wall.

Just a warning was written in elf, on the top part of the frame, the rest of the symbols in the door's planks being with no doubt some strange encoded message meant to be known just by the few that shared the cyphering.

"You curious, young Elf, do not enter where you don't belong
unless you know what is waiting to the other side of this door
If you know what is it I'm sure you, smart elf, already know
which is the password that opens the invisible, impeccable lock"

Just remember to look for a symbol that look like a unsheated sword in the door, and press it, it's made of black golvarn, as far as I remember, or it was made of mithril?, well... It will disable the device that disintegrates any intruders passing through that door. What I don't know is the password that opens the door, but it is supposed to be easy, commented the voice, turning again to its strange half metallic, half-organic tone.

"Hrr, yes." Speaker diplomatically joins in the laughing with a good-natured chuckle of his own, simply a whiffle of breath through his nostrils. As he looks around he sees Aleinna, notes her mentally, and continues on as if he didn't see anything out of place. It would be undiplomatic to do anything else. Hesche. If you cause a problem I swear upon the One Fanged God's liver that it will be slow evisceration for you...

Not even a hint of gingery sweatsmell emerges, not like there's anyone close enough to Speaker to get a good whiff in the first place. A most Heroic control of Heroic urges, given that the 'tosh doesn't excuse himself to go find, and kick the ass of, a particular flirtatious underling.

* - * - *

"Wheeee--*splash*!" Magnus scrambles to his feet, ungloriously sucks in some air, and looks to see what new mess he's gotten himself into. Listening carefully as the Polymarch speaks, he inspects everything: the door, the walls, the ceiling, the doorframe, the buttons, and even scans the water for something of use. Deciding he'll go back to searching if things don't work out the first time, he steps up to the door--not too close--and investigates the buttons some more.

Eldar runes, inside circular buttons of pretty and probably expensive materials. One that looks like a squiggle, one that looks like a cat being beaten against a wall by a hag, one that looks like a neominimalist rendition of Millard Fillmore...

The psych side of the DiploCorps had once tried to give Magnus a Rorschach test. They never tried that ever again, usually just resorting to a blackjack and jamming his head into a KCTS BraynZcanner 3000.


...here. Here's something that looks quite a lot like an unsheathed sword. Or maybe a fancy lowercase 't' tilted three-hundred degrees anticlockwise. Magnus reaches out and pushes it. While vaporization would indeed be a new experience--sort of--he knows it's not only the kind of experience he'd only have only once but it would preclude having any other experiences after that. It takes only a very marginal attempt at the calculus of the good to determine that perhaps putting off being vaporized is for the best. The button caves in, click, then pops out a touch to be level with the outside. Hesche tries again. The button caves in, click, then pops out to stick out of the wall.

Damn. Obvious two-state. Fifty-fifty odds in any case. The button could either be the defense field switch or the defense field inhibitor switch, in which case off or on would be the correct setting, respectively. The unsheathed sword part suggests the former, but elven love for not speaking all too plainly could just make the latter feasible and not just being paranoid. Then there's the question on whether in or out means on or off. He toggles it just a few times to be sure, and heightens his senses up just a notch or two to try and tell any, any difference between the two states. One can usually hear high-power devices if one knows how to concentrate on them, and Hesche knows that, among other things.

Click, click, click, click. This way, soft electrical buzz. That way, a slight peak in buzz and then the same buzz. This way, soft buzz. That way, a slight peak in buzz and then the same buzz. Vee equals eye arr. Eye equals arr over vee. The entire system is set to run at a particular voltage. Add in a new system, like say a naughty elf zapper, and that increases the resistance. With the power source being at the same voltage as previous, the current has to increase... but then why would it dip again? He listens more closely, as he would to a concerto. Soft buzz. Click. Surge, and then soft buzz just a tiny smidgen quieter with the same pitch.

Capacitor.

The surge isn't anything being powered up, it's a capacitor discharging to safe. Energy needs to be stored up because zapping someone is a rather short-lived affair; increased power draw after cap-charging is just to keep the capacitor topped off.

Hesche smiles and leaves the button where it is, sticking out of the wall. Going on the basis it's a plain-talking button, and the sound of electricity, the capacitor that powers the bit that would zap him is now discharged and thus harmless. He ponders cheating to make sure, glancing at his left arm.

Well, it is vaporization. Moving his mind to a different but still accustomed level of thought, he feels the tattoo tingle as it's supposed to and uses good old remote electron detection. It would be a fight to keep back memories of the Gurlani and daring rescues out of his mind if he weren't a professional. Yup, it's off.

Proud that he solved the problem without any real unfair advantages, he looks at the door. Hrm. He knows what claims to be on the other side, but Elves like cleverness. There's no handle, He assembles a list of possibilities given what he currently knows and tries them, one at a time.

"Lakhmesis.
"Polymarch.
"Inside.
"The other side.
"Beyond.
"Open sesame." Hesche can be something of a traditionalist at times.
"I don't know."

Those don't work. Before the voice in his head can make any comments, he reads the warning again and groans. It can't be that. Still, what the hell, why not.

"Which."

Aleinna just picked the card, visibly perturbed, looking relieved at the fact that not one of the onlookers spotted her. She fixed her clear eyes over the Kzin for a moment, and realized that he had discovered that Hesche wasn't around...And what now?, Should I tell him he dissapeared and left his card with a flower or what?, she said to herself, hesitating just for a moment, just looking at the Scolopendran with a puzzled face.

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

Sesamus?, that was funny one, said the voice inside Hesche's brain, yet now transformed into a deep rumble echoing like a sound brought to Hesche from a really deep gorge inside a cave. It resounded through every niche in Hesche's brain, majestic and powerful.

I hope you are a persistant one, after all you despised a full afternoon of elven passion to be here. Either you are not interested in sindarin maidens, in what I could name as new for a human, or you are really interested in getting through this door. Meanwhile you get the password, I will take a nap here, in this comfortable lair, the voice added, in the sound a power that could be only created by the throat of a whale, or maybe something even more imposing, regal and big.

Speaker notes the Marquise's nearly complete confusion in the next diplomatic situational-awareness sweep of his yellow eyes. Feigning surprise at something, he starts for a moment before pulling out the brick-like communications unit in his pocket. "Excuse me, I have to take this call." Glancing over to Aleinna, he makes eye contact as he gets up and subtly motions towards the forest with his head. He adds a little twirl of the tip of his tail within plain sight if that will help, but a prehensile tail making too many signals will give him (and her) away.

Stepping away from the group, he speaks softly in Arabic to the completely inactive box. "Yes, Speaker-Rrit here. I see. Hrr, now? She must not be kept waiting. I will be there shortly." Closing the device he pockets it again and bows politely with a smile to the collected minstrels before speaking in English. "I am sorry, but duty calls and I must hurry. It has been a pleasure."

He gets on all four and bounds off in gazelle-like leaps up and over the hill, disappearing faster than any head of state has any right to. Once he's on the other side of the hill he changes course and leaps into the forest before doubling back towards where Aleinna should be making her escape.

* - * - *

It has nothing to do with 'despising,' Hesche thinks projectedly with respectful quietness as he folds his arms and looks at the door. The rest he keeps to himself. More a matter of prioritizing and being gentlemanly about it, humpfh. Reading the warning again, he grumbles incoherently as his mind works.

So 'clever' non-answers didn't work. Hm. I guess that means I'm back to square one. How the warning goes... 'unless you know what is waiting to the other side of this door; if you know what is it I'm sure you, smart elf, already know which is the password that opens the invisible, impeccable lock.' Well, I know who claims to be on the other side, and apparently a 'Polymarch' isn't sufficient what. So what is on the other side is probably the rub.

What do we know? Sounds male, has a sense of humor, telepathic. Claims wisdom. Sounds big, not like that means much in telepathy. Hmmm. What other hints do we have? Said he's taking a nap in a lair. A lair, not a den or a base or a nest or a living room or anything. Of course, plenty of people refer to their base of operations as a lair.

What else do we have? The door was constructed. All this is constructed and put together with deliberate intent. I'm standing in front of a door with a disabled elf-zapper that I got to through a slip-n'-slide that was at the bottom of a fountain. Real people intentionally put a sorta-secret dogged door on the bottom of a fountain that would lead to here. Instead of something reasonable like a hallway or a maintenance shaft or anything else it's connected to a bloody fountain.

Meaning that it probably is reasonable to whoever built it. Why would it be reasonable to connect this to a fountain?

Is it some connection with water? Is there Jonah's fish or a whale behind there? If so, why is this, which would be a perfect airlock, filled with air and not water like the fountain? It was clearly empty given that the water rushed into it. Still, even then, if it's a water connection then what's on the other side could be anything even vaguely connected with water.

No, the water's a ruse. It's a barrier, like a moat. Magnus sniffles, then ignores the water growing cold. It, like this door, is supposed to make the opposite end harder to get to.

Still, they could have used armored doors and walls with guns. Why a fountain?

Hesche grumbles aloud. "Not even like it's a good fountain either. Knights and dragons... how hackneyed..." He pauses. Elves don't have a St. George. And if they did, he wouldn't about to be cheering with his lance in the air just before some dragon was about to spit fire and barbeque him. That motif on the fountain certainly weren't death throes, to be certain. Even things which are intentionally being hidden are usually given cryptic markers so those in the know can recognize them.

Simple fish pictograms in the catacombs for ICTHOS--Jesus Christ, God's-Son, Savior. Hidden symbols in all sorts of art, some real, others imaginary. Big, in a lair, behind a door of elf-zapping--okay, so that's secondary--and the worst that could happen is that I'll still be wrong and standing in a pool of cooling water. No big deal.

Magnus stops leaning on the wall, sloshes over to the front of the door, and folds his arms behind his back before he says in a voice full of schoolboy pride reciting a simple koan: "A. Dragon."

The crowd gave an applause and cheered again for Speaker, trying to pronounce the title the elves were already willing to give him in his tongue. "Agaraglareb, Hero!", they yelled as a chorus, raising their arms in the air and bowing repeatedly.

The elf was, although a bit biased towards social interaction, one of the brightest (if not the brightest) minds in the Sacred Sindarin Empire of Aelosia. She caught the signals almost inmediately and ran for the nearby forest. Surprisingly, the elf was fast, taking advantage of her frail constitution and her inherited light feet, jogging quite quickly to enter the protection of the crytal trees, dissapearing from view.

Once she was inside the entwined structures of purified glass, deep inside enough to prevent the outside crowd from detecting her, she paused, and waited for the arrival of the man-tiger.

The elf froze, in Aleinna's senses the recognition of a predator charging towards her as she looked at Speaker sprinting in all fours. Yet she remained calm, and stood in the most dign posture she could manage to regain. [i]I would prefer to stand inside a courtier's garments right now. Try to be imposing with my frame in a top and shorts is not helping, she told to herself, and took a deep breath waiting for the words of Speaker.

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The door opened fast and wide, towards the inside, with a heavy THUD, as soon as Hesche spoke the word. Several tiny lightnings of purple energy crackled in the borders of the opening, and then ceased.

The opening, more than a standard hallway, looked like a descending and cylindrical wormhole in the clean, soft surface of wraithbone. More than built, it looked carved into the opening, like if something serpentine opened its way through the ground, long and curved enough so Hesche was unable to see its end.

The voice remained silent, leaving Magnus to think, and to find its source, all alone...

A kzin running on all fours is a mesmerizing thing, even beyond the obvious analogs to some sort of tiger on steroids. Their sinuous grace resembles that of a mongoose or a ferret; they flow around and over obstacles somehow. Speaker returns to bipedalism in a single smooth motion twenty paces away, letting momentum bleed off as his long steps slow him down. Once he's close enough, but not too close, he bows respectfully. "Marquise Cúthalion, how may I be of service?"

Her slightly disheveled appearance, the flower in her hair, her unintentional scents of confusion, anger, and fear meet with absolutely no recognition in the professional diplomat's demeanor. Mild annoyances he could let show, on occasion, but the rage he is bottling up at what could be Hesche's most damaging flirtation to date he could never, not now. Not with the slightest ruffle of fur or whiff of stress-scent, or else it would overflow to extents... undiplomatic at best.

Humans, usually the younger ones, chuckle when a kzin says it is Heroic to be cool and calm when the liver says rage but the mind says stay. Unless they have a particularly severe anger management disorder, they simply have no idea what it takes for a kzin to stay level sometimes.

Do not ch'rowl this up for me, Hesche, not now.

* - * - *

"Hm. Bug tunnel." Magnus doesn't exactly know why he says it aloud, but he's glad to say something not related to that riddle. Stepping over the threshold, he takes a careful step--the wraithbone is smooth and the water dribbling in from his side of the door doesn't make it any less slick--and once he has a stable footing, steps all the way through. Tracing his hands along the wall, partly for balance, partly for guidance, and partly to feel for vibrations through them, he walks carefully down the only path open to him.

"I would hate to meet the earthworm that made this," he says, lying. Actually I'd love to meet the earthworm that made it. Either it'd be friendly and I could learn something from it, or it'd be hostile and something to deal with another way. Either way, a challenge. In any case, here, no way but through.

So through, and down, and around he goes, curve for curve, slope for slope. No reason to give up now.

"I am afraid Mr. Hesche dissapeared, Speaker, Sire", said the elven maiden, clearly managing a visual image and a voice calmed and controlled, yet her odor of fear and worry permeated out of all her pores.

"I found this, his ID card, after I followed him when he left the group. I lost his tracks for a while, and then I found his card atop a little mound of stones. No other track of his whereabouts was found", the woman said, extending the piece of plastic with the photograph of Hesche in it to the Kzin.

"This palace is supposed to be a safe place, but I cannot but say that there might be danger in traveling by unexpected places. That's why the guards and the nobles joined you for that little wolk of Lady Nathicana. We have groups that do not like humans at all, there are forbidden and dangerous places, wild creatures loose in the garden that although supposed to be friendly can represent a threat...And...And...And I am afraid something could have happened to him, to be honest, Sire", she said, her fists clenched and her face contracted as she realized she was behaving like a human girl. It's not like I don't like it, but it's not the moment to surrender to emotion, she thought with a mental wink.

Regaining her control she spoke softly, looking at the colorful eyes of the Kzin with self confidence. "I'll arrange a search party. He will be found in no time, Sire. Our trackers can be quite effective"

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The door closed with a violent movement after Hesche took ten paces from it, and the hissing and buzzing sound coming from it stated that some kind of energy field was activated around the frame, for sure the disintegrating device protecting the door.

Not an earthworm, but a tyranid. It wasn't specially talkative, but indeed was a threat worth a challenge. Too bad it wasn't as worth as a dinner. The taste is not something I would recommend, I must add. But I'm sure the eldar prepared more interesting and fun challenges for you ahead than a stinking, drooling worm, said Lakhmesis' voice inside Hesche's mind, for sure registering Magnus' thoughts.

After a while, ten minutes or so of difficult and challenging passage through the tunnel, Hesche reached the end of the tunnel, that finally broke into a circular hall well illuminated by a phantom blue hue of light, with another door at the opposing extreme. The hall had a domed ceiling, where somekind of crystal web surrounded the wraithbone structure, emitting a soft glow that was the source of the hall's ilumination.

Two empty suits of armour were standing at each side of the door, the green wraithbone still brilliant as new, the elongated helmets and the mandiblasters where the jaw was supposed to be identifying the armours as the standard outfits of Striking Scorpion Aspect Warriors. Each statue held a pair of fine crafted chainswords placed in the bracers instead of hands, and a pair of shuriken pistols hanging from tigh holsters, giving the impression of being living guards standing in duty as sentinels of the door.

Only when Hesche's noticed the dented pieces of armor, discarded and broken weapons and scattered, frail looking, skulls and bones around the entire carpeted floor, he realized that some danger was lurking in the room. Dried, brown stains were everywhere over the walls, several of them even looking like marked, bloodied, hands. Just at Magnus' feet the upper half of a skeleton was lying still, its remaining hand holding some kind of holoscreen, similar to the human palm pilots, its torso covered by the remains of a black, hooded, cloak that once was adorned with arcane markings.

"Dis... appeared."

There is a quiet ticking noise from somewhere, like a slow woodpecker in the distance or some sort of insect chatter, in that ellipsis. Speaker doesn't seem to notice it and indeed is much more still and calm than he has any right to be. His batwing ears are neatly folded back against the side of his head, where apparently they fit into little protective niches in his furry skull.

"Officer Hesche is somewhat prone to... adventuring. It is something he has a knack for and one of the reasons he was brought." Beat. "We did not expect him to actually do any." Another beat. "Even if he is simply missing, he is probably treating it as an adventure."

The kzintosh thinks for a moment, and breathes out slowly after settling on something. That the breath has some resemblence to a resigned sigh may or may not be coincidental. "Please take me to where you found the card. I will track him from there."

* - * - *

Now this is my kind of party. Hesche grins with a facial expression not completely jovial, although joy is part of it. It's the grin of a barnstormer pulling up just before he hits the ground or an expert motorcyclist redlining the engine down a narrow and twisting road. It's the grin of adventure of the greatest sort, the do-or-die kind. From practice he starts shielding his mind.

Warming up his left arm with a few well-practiced thoughts--not particularly necessary, but it's always good to get in the zone before the game--he looks around, walking gingerly on the balls of his feet. A few steps this way, a few steps that, and he has enough parallax to see around most of the obstacles obstructing a more complete view of the room. Bodies everywhere, and none of them recent. Armor, broken swords, and what's this? I recognize some of those symbols.

That makes him cool off that arm quite quickly, just in case. Let's see. Statues in the far end, all sorts of dead fighters, and for all anyone knows, I'm a guy in track shorts. Perhaps fighting's what got these guys killed. Hesche kneels down and gingerly plucks the PDA from the skeleton's hand, not squeamish so much as trying to keep aware of his surroundings and making sure it's not rigged with some sort of boobytrap.

"Yes, Sire", said the Marquise Aleinna, nodding, knowing that she wasn't in a position to argument the Speaker's wishes.

"I just hope nothing happened to him. It would be an unforgivable diplomatic breach and I swear it wasn't our itention at all to...", as she guided Speaker back to where she found the card, she started to give explanations, entirely unasked and perhaps unwanted, no doubt with a hint that the so called "diplomatic breach" wasn't the only reason she was worried about Magnus Hesche. Luckily she had the wisdom to stop and start to think in a more rational way.

Producing something like an earphone from her cleavage and placing it over her ear, she issued a few, softly whispered orders. "Frequency #113, please bring my uniform to the Fountain of the DragonRider, quadrant 467/923. I will need full gear for dangerous situations". Removing the device, she added, turning to Speaker "Sire, there is the chance Mr. Hesche found something dangerous. I do not want to insult you by saying you should stay behind, but I please encourage you to accept my company until we find what happened to your companion. It is, in part, my responsability for losing him"

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The screen on the device Hesche just picked turned on, displaying several words in sindarin in white over a blue background, as options in a menu. "Replay", "New recording", "Save" and "Discard", that along with the small iris in the opposite side of the screen identified the electronic apparatus as a version of a video camera.

Over the menu, other words were displayed. "Direction of Anthropology Studies of the Cúthalion Universitat", and under it, "Eldar Secrets: What still lurks under the façade?, by Doctor Selinai Mathálion and Arcanae Kalises Phaelos".

Speaker nods absentmindedly as he drops to all fours, black nose gently sniffing along the rocks. At least he knows Hesche's base scent by heart; some of the emotionally-driven ones are still a little shaky in his mind (and, right now, he doesn't want to know). Starting at the pile of rocks, he starts working outwards in a spiraling pattern, the quickest and easiest way to determine direction. Two trails, one slightly older than the other. Unless he has been getting unstuck in time, the newer one is his exit.

If nothing else, concentrating on following the spoor allows Speaker to safely ignore any connotations he may hear in Aleinna's voice that would otherwise distract him. "We have trouble ourselves keeping Hesche on a short enough leash," he replies quietly, looking up for a moment, "so I don't think the breach on your part is so unforgivable."

Sometimes it's good to be the padishah. A likely trail found, the kzintosh follows it with careful padding, head hanging low but nowhere near touching the ground. He is a Hero, not a bloodhound, and some dignity must be maintained. Moving easily through the grass, he stops at the fountain. Growling quietly to himself, he works in a spiral out from the fountain, first checking its rim, then further out. "Hrr." Returning to the Marquise he pulls his legs under him, sitting crosslegged with the pads of his feet somehow out of sight in proper Arab custom. "Do you think he went for a swim?"

* - * - *

Hesche's seeming mastery of language is partially due to the hypnotic sleep-training he got on the way here and partially because he cheats. Not being in the research section of the OPO he really doesn't care how it works, but Agent Simmias always said it had something to do with the import of something and the psychic imprint left on writing due to effort. For things carved into rock, it was easy--decent amount of effort and meaning. Words on a screen... not as much, but the effort that goes into research papers tends to counteract that. Simmias says it has something to do with the psychic intent of the author imprinting itself on the ness of the document; it defines in part what the thing is objectively.

Or something. As said previously, Magnus really doesn't care too much except to know it works sometimes and doesn't work other times. Between that and his rudimentary Conversational Sindarin For Complete Drooling Lobotomized Morons, he can make out the words on the screen.

Hm. I'd best not push it. He figures "replay" is a safe bet, given that the last message may be decently close to where Mister Robes 'n Bones lost his lower half.

Aleinna followed the movements of the man-tiger, until they reached the fountain, where another elf was stanging with a bag. Both followed curiously the movements of the Kzin, the woman silencing the comments of the paige with a serious look.

Then she opened the bag, and took out one of the body gloves Speaker had seen before. Without disposing of her top and shorts, the woman placed herself inside the shaded purple outfit, that after pushing a button in the belt pressurized itself over her slim body perfectly.

"We highly valorate qualities like the ones displayed by your companion, Speaker, Sire, as they are rare amongst our people", she said, adjusting a pair of elongated lily armor shoulder pads over her back and a pair of bracers with technological devices adhered to them on her forearms. "Independent thought, desire for adventure, creativity and lack of respect for the rules. I just hope he didn't get into biting more than he can chew, alone", she added, taking a pair of strange looking powered cilinders and fixing them into her bracers before placing a greek looking helmet, plumed with a white horse's mane and with high tech traslucent googles, over her head.

Finally, she heard the Kzin's statement about Hesche and the water, and trusted in the heightened senses of the foreign mandatary. Copying his posture in a perfect manner, she took a sit right next to him, her back perfectly straight. "I think we have two options. Waiting here until he returns to the surface, or going in to look for him. I do not mean an offensive comparison, but it's deep water in any case", she answered from behind the helmet.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The screen changed, showing the more conventional simbol of ">" in the upper left corner, with the date, in aelosian years, fourty nine years, eleven months and twelve days ago in the lower right corner. An image appeared, depicting a figure standing in front of the door Hesche has just passed by minutes ago. It was a female elf, looking mature, dressed in a body glove similar to those Hesche's saw in the running party, entirely white with the same symbol that Aleinna sported, signaling to the door. Soon the audio of the electronic tape joined the image, but the woman spoke too fast and using long and baroque words, not easy to follow, except for a few phrases...

"Tape this, darling"
"What the Eldar (...) sealed behind this door"
"Zoom in"
"We, as specialists looking for lost treasures of (...) and the study og (...)"
"It's amazing, don't you think?"
"If the (...) approves this work, we can finally marry"
"You must press the unsheathed sword, symbol of the Hyrals"
"Will disintegrate (...) instantly"
"It also has a (...) that opens the door"

After a while of what looked like an technical explanation and exposition of the properties and look of the door, the woman pushed the same symbol as Hesche, took two steps back and shouted a word AMLUNG!, (dragon, that was easy for Hesche to understand), and the door opened, just as before.

The camera turns off and then restarts displaying another image, this time inside the worm's tunnel

After another long explanation inside the long tunnel, just having the audible phrases of...

"It is not (...) but corroded into the (...) masonry"
"Looks like accidental, but for sure it was used by the (...) to awake her in times of (...)"
"Perhaps they brought her the (...), that they like to eat and to sleep over"
"You had to be of high (...) to know about this entrance at all"

The camera turns off and then restarts displaying another image, this time inside the hall Hesche is in right now

The camera made some shots of the scattered bones armors and weapons in the floor. Some phrases follow the images, in the voice a deep tone of disgust and displeasure. Finally, it centers in the image of the woman standing in front of the door, between the two inmobile suits of armor, all over her the bluish hue of light that was the natural illumination of the room. She starts again another explanation, with no doubt in the same order of the previous ones.

"Maybe this was a (...) exercise for the elves who wanted to (...) prove themselves in the times of the eldar (...)"
"Greed cannot be discarded as the (...) of these people"
"The door perhaps has a similar (...) that functions like a trap"
"The web we see (...) us, (shot of the ceiling), works like a heat sensor, and that would explain the cold (...) around the hall"
"Eldar (...) were reputed necromancers, able to tie (...) to inanimate objects"
"Most of the devices were made not just for (...) outsiders to get in, but to prevent the (...) of getting out"
"No, it is not dangerous, dear, unless you (...) something"

As she spoke, slowly the intensity of the blue light in the room was augmented, the now sea of blue glow invading the room as a high powered halolamp, the crystal spiderweb covering the ceiling generating a huge amount of energy. The eye sockets of the helmets of the empty armors at her sides filled with a intense, electric blue light, and one of them lowered one of the chainswords held in its hands a few centimeters before lying still again. The woman turned and then openly laughed, looking at the camera again.

"This place is giving you the (...), no? (...), nothing is going to happen if I do not (...) the door"

Then both armours sprang to life, the repentine buzz of the chain swords turning on echoing through the chamber with a sound able to freeze the blood in anyone's veins. The woman opened her eyes wide, but didn't have the time to turn to see what was happening...

Not while her head remained attached to her body, in any case...

The cut was clean, fast, precise. The scream of the one holding the camera was desperate, passionate, painful to hear.

The camera catched the last movements of the armours, that moved and leaped swiftly, like expert, living elven warriors, slicing at the falling, headless body and dismembering it before it hitted the ground in a gore festival. It was the last thing it recorded before the operator turned back and ran towards the tunnel, the buzzing, sawing, sounds and the heavy wraithbone clanks following him close, until the camera fell to the ground, just accompanied by a deafened sigh.

The buzzing sounds prolongued themselves for several seconds, until they ceased, as around the lens of the camera, lying in the hand of its former owner, formed a pool of red, bright blood that contrasted heavily with the ever present, soft blue light. Then, only silence and quietness remained...Until the battery ran out.

The kzintosh growls quietly to himself. He's not worried about Hesche, not really. More just angry. "The water may be deep, but I swim well enough." He lapses back into science and thinks for a few moments, eyes slitting as he fights back the animal (and idealist) instinct to simply plunge into the water and look for his wayward subordinate. One can't ever leave a man behind, after all, and both sides of Speaker's instinct say to go after him: one side for ripping him apart, the other for rescuing him.

Meanwhile, he has other concerns. He is the executive president of his country. He is Patriarch of the kzinti people. His life, looking to it cynically, has value beyond his person. Which is why, either way, I am seeing this through to the end. He sighs through his nostrils, a long slow exhalation as he forces himself to relax. A thing's value is only appreciated when it is risked. As Supreme Emperor I can be replaced. As Patriarch I can be replaced, and I must lead the race of Heroes by example.

Either way, he doesn't look too happy about it. "Hesche is my subordinate and my responsibility, so I will help. If you feel time is of the essence, I will go as I am. If not, I'm sure the Colonel has something that could help on his ship."

* - * - *

Hesche frowns with disgust at the beheading and subsequent ginsu-ing of everything in sight. Glancing back at the two 'statues,' he frowns more. It's a determined frown, though. It isn't fear, or at least not mindless fear; simply concern and the acknowledgement of another puzzle. So. She was standing between them when they activated, but they didn't activate the instant she did. That may or may not be their trigger, then.

Looking up at the ceiling, he thinks some more. If that's a heat sensor, then they may be heat seeking. There's nothing here that I can use to mask my body heat, though. Keeping an eye on the two Aspect Warriors he starts to explore the room, looking for other clues. There has to be a way around this. Always does. He examines the other skeletons, checks pockets if there are any, and keeps glancing at the statues.

All the while, still thinking. Right. So they sawed through some light armor pretty quick... but their targets weren't hostile. So simply fighting them doesn't mean one dies. They also didn't give any verbal warnings or ask any riddles, so that's not it. They don't really give any time for someone to plead, and if they kill anyone who's afraid of them... well, she wasn't afraid and they killed her right quick.

He checks his pockets. Fifty-year old elven PDA, keycard to his room, paperclip, loose bits of string (still moist). He looks at the statues, which may as well be military-grade armor. What else could it be? Another password, or a different test altogether? Need more information. He continues to look for that information.

"Well, What do you prefer?", said the elven woman, staring at the Kzintosh right in the eyes. "After thinking about it for a while, we have three main posibilities. One, Magnus went for a swim and he's just having fun somewhere. In that case we're not in a hurry, he will comeback safe after a while", she stated, adding gestures with her hands as she spoke, as if she was giving a conference to the Kzin.

"Two, someone sent Magnus to a swim to dispose of his body...Or he just got drown", Aleinna swallowed hard, and paused for a bit after pondering that option. "It's just an option, a really probable option, and in that situation, we're not in a hurry".

"And in the last case, your companion is in trouble as we speak. Even in that case, if we find him unprepared, we would just become also victims of whatever danger he's in, so I believe we should ask for any help we can muster before going into that water. If you still want to keep this quiet, just call your Colonel for the equipment you need, while I call for information and help", she finished shrugging with her shoulders.

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As Hesche's checked the rest of the bodies, he found a lot of different weapons, of both eldar and elven design, varying from metal swords, power seords, to shuriken pistols and needle longrifles. Fighting the animated armors was perhaps an option, but again maybe not the easiest one, as the presence of weaponry certified that many of the corpses around belonged once to equipped and trained warriors.

The door had ingravings too, this time in simplified sindarin under the difficult and complex eldar runes. "The Polymarch only deserves to be met by the greatest warriors, as we, her current sentinels, were in our time. Speak our names aloud or prove your fighting prowess to us".

However, thanks to Magnus' heightened senses, he could start to perceive a variation on the room's illumination, the blue hue of light slowly to grow brighter, also the cold present in the hall slowly intensifying. The web that was the source of the light slowly started to pulse, as if animated by the presence of something in the room...

It only figures that we assign Hesche to be my bodyguard and I end up having to save him. Speaker lets the dark humor of the situation prevent him from getting angrier. "You are right. It would be most logical if we prepared ourselves with all due speed before proceding ourselves. Think, then leap." By how he says it, it's evident that 'leap' in this case means more of a pounce than the hopping frogs suggested by the old axiom 'look before you leap.' "I know Hesche well... perhaps too well," he mutters, "and if the situation will best him then it would probably best us as we are now--no offense, honored Marquise. I will contact Kabutomushi and get something for myself. I think it would be problematic if your people saw Mobile Infantry running through their halls with a sense of urgency. Please excuse me."

Bowing politely, Speaker steps aside before drawing out his commbrick and speed-dialing the medium cruiser currently docked with the Craftworld. The rest of the conversation is in quick, clipped Arabic. A final nod, a grumble to the effect that it would only figure Magnus wouldn't be carrying his own comm, and he turns back to the elf. "A crewman will be here in a few minutes with appropriate gear. I... apologize for my subordinate causing so much trouble." The kzintosh doesn't like apologizing for people under his command and no matter how much the diplomat he is, it's rather obvious thanks to the growl in his voice.

* - * - *

Hesche sighs. I hate it when there's two of the same trial in a row. All this naming of things... He folds his arms, steps back outside of leaping distance assuming the necromantic automatons have springs for legs, and decides to let his superior eyesight do the work as he looks for nameplates, nametapes, or any other sort of identifying words on the two suits of armor. In a fit of pique he nearly simply says "our names aloud" but decides against it for now.

Okay, so I'm going to meet a dragon and the last trick was to state what I was meeting. In this case, I need to 'speak our names aloud,' a name isn't exactly 'what we are.' Which is good, because I just glossed over that bit in the dossier. I know they're A-something Warriors and more specifically S-ing Scomethings. Shrieking Scallops? Strangling Scorpions? Striking Scorekeepers? Slicing Scolopendrans? Heh. He chuckles. Chin's up, at least.

"No need to apologize. We should had more vigilance. This is incident proves nothing aside than we are not a good host", said the Marquise, retiring herself to make the proper calls.

"What about the support squad that I asked, and the information I needed?, I already clarified it was of the highest priority!", she hissed through the comm, addressing the coordinator of security of the guest's palace.

"Sorry, Marquise, but your petition was negated", answered the automated voice of the controller.

"I am a Head of a Noble House, I command the resources under my command, such petitions cannot be denied!", she retorted, the anger permeating her voice even as she was whispering low.

"I'm truly sorry, Marquise, but it was clarified that the issue of security of the territory in the Craftworld is not under the jurisdiction of your House, but of House Mablung", apologized again the voice in the other side of the line.

"And what is the Marshall thinking then?, the security of our guests is the most important issue in this spaceship right now, he should had sent a search party with trackers and eletronical detection!", she continued, not giving back an inch.

"He did. His petitions were denied too, although", was the simple answer.

"Noone can deny an Agaraglareb", answered the Marquise, refering to the heads of the aelosian nobility. "Who is coordinating this?, I releve you of you post".

"Look, Marquise. You cannot, We're under direct orders of the Everqueen. Who else would you think could override the authority of both the Marquise and the Marshall of the Sindar?", finally answered the controller, looking like losing its patience. "We Berethauth are above the authority of you nobles", were the words that identified the controller as a member of the Everqueen's warmaidens special royal guard.

"Oh, well, but...Why?", answered Aleinna, swallowing hard, puzzled and confused.

"Your orders are to stay there and accompany the Scolopendran magistrate until our envoy arrives. She is on her way as we speak, on a pair of minutes she will reach your location. The Everqueen authorized the participation of the Speaker if he is really determined to do so, and if he allows our field operative to accompany him, but please remember him that it is not neccesary. Then you will wait for their return", the voice issued Aleinna, with an authority tone.

The Marquise sighed. First, having evidence that the Everqueen monitored her communications wasnt good, and then she wanted to go inside that fountain to save Hesche, to prove to Magnus and the Kzin how capable she was, but then the orders of the Everqueen were absolute and not deniable. Plus, if she was going to send someone else, for sure it was the most capable person to do so in the entire Craftworld. Probably Hyral, she thought, knowing the ability of the former ShadowPrince to make heroic deeds when there were need of it.

She approached Speaker and said, "The Everqueen approves that you go there to find Magnus, but demands that an operative of her entire trust makes you company. Not me, although", she said with a dissappointed look.

An engine sound interrumpted her, and a winged form landed a few feet to the left of the Kzin and the Marquise. It was an aelosian warrior, clad in a weird winged full body armor suit, clear white, decorated with gold and amethyst ingravings, looking like a metal, female angel. The wings of the armor folded automatically inside the armor's back, and the mask covering the elf's face issued some words in an automatized, machine-like tone of voice.

"Speaker, Sire. I am under your orders. You lead and I follow, it is my honor to serve a hero"

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The ceiling of the hall pulsed again, and the eerie blue light intensified its glow once more, reacting as if it was aware of the presence of a stranger in the room. The light permeated the bones of the fallen and gave them a weird, bizarre green phosphorescence.

Like a lamp, the crystal's spider web tensed and relaxed, like it was alive, and the lights inside the armors' empty eye sockets turned on again, like Hesche's saw earlier in the PDA video...

Within a few minutes a spaceman in SASD greens shows up with a salute and a duffel bag; from it the kzintosh extracts a rubbery armorpoly suit and some thin deflection plates and joint armor. With the spaceman's help it goes on very quickly, although it doesn't look very comfortable. Fur-bearing creatures should not normally be subjected to near-skintight clothing. A few more cylinders added to his belt and a powergun rifle strapped to his back, and Speaker is ready.

"Thank you for your aid," he says to the recently arrived jump-trooper. "I defer to the Marquise's greater knowledge in this situation." All business.

* - * - *

Well, this looks familiar. Tensing, Hesche looks up at the spidery wisps of crystal beginning to glow ever more fiercely. Then, the massive parallel processor that is the human brain finally organizes its synapses into a reasonable solution as he realizes that heat sensor web looks awfully fragile.

"Dammit, I'm an idiot." Even while he curses himself aloud he leaps for the nearest discarded weapon. Shoulder-rolling, he snatches up a shuriken rifle, aims the slotted end towards the web, and pulls the trigger, firing from the hip. The weapon is old, been battered a bit, and then left to sit for who knows how long; all Magnus gets out of it is a snapping noise.

"Damned flimsy piece of..." In a fit of pique, he throws the useless rifle up at the ceiling and hops to his feet in the same moment. It wouldn't do to be at a disadvantage when the fighting starts. Given the timing, it's a fifty-fifty chance...

"The Marquise can always maintain communication with us, and give us the knowledge we may need. It's just that she's not suited to extreme physical situations. She's the Head of the Sages, after all", was the simple answer of the mechanical voice from beneath the mask of the pressurized helmet, a pair of amethyst lenses hiding a pair of intelligent, soft eyes from the direct stare of Speaker.

"You can call me Elfhelm, Speaker, Sire. It is a name as good as any other. Should we proceed?", said the short, small armoured elf war angel, approaching to the edge of the fountain, just before the ground trembled a bit, as is a small seismic reaction had shaken the ground.

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Luckily, (or perhaps unluckily), for Hesche, he didn't grabbed a shuriken rifle, but a light prism launcher, that was almost identical to the standard eldar battle rifle, with the exception of the larger power cell and the wider barrel.

Of course that it was broken, as time and dampness took its toll on the triggering device and the sophisticated systems of the weapon. Yet the power cell was operative, and still charged. Some kind of electromagnetic field surrounded the crystal web detector, causing the stored power to create a rather interesting, and also spectacular, reaction.

The glow dissapeared, just as the light inside the armors' eyesockets were reaching the critical level. And then came the flash and the rumble, and the shockwave.

The web collapsed, creating a rain of tiny and sharp slivers of glass all over the place, turning off the hue of blue light automatically, sending the skeletons and discarded items bouncing the walls and filling the hall with shrapnel as the shockwave bounced several times all around the room.

(Some shirt tearing is in order, I think. Served).

"Understood." Speaker nods, tightens the airtight mask over his muzzle, and slides down the visor on his helmet with a click. He is now, for all intents and purposes when it comes to CBR standards, isolated from his outside environment. He has one booted paw in the water when the nearly subsonic toom makes the water ripple; his ears twitch in their protective niches along the side of his skull.

He must be having some sort of fun, at least. "Perhaps we should hurry." Without a moment's more hesitation, he stretches out and slips into the fountain with a gentle dive.

* - * - *

Hesche instinctively ducks as a largish chunk of what used to be the prism rifle slings past him, and knowingly claps his hands against his ears to protect his eardrums from the shockwave. Now a perfectly reasonable person would lay flat on the floor, minimizing their target area to what is in essence a room-filling event. Magnus, on the other hand, was already prepared for some fancy footwork and so goes to it, hopping around and backflipping over particularly sharp bits.

Yes, he does--through the power of Zen-like concentration--channel a leaf on the wind. No, he does not think, much less speak, the phrase.

The pressure shocks aren't exactly dodgeable but he works them into his crazy little protective dance. With a spin he pirouettes out of the way of a skull, then buckles his knees to fall into a shoulder-roll so a sword of indeterminate age can tumble past above him without too much trouble. The tiny shards of glass occasionally open up a tiny scratch in his bronzed skin or part a few strands of his clothes, but never does he suffer much more than a graze as he leaps and tumbles.

Things die down and he somersaults into a stance bleeding pride, arms akimbo and smile smug before he takes his next step. Then a femur long since disassociated with his owner clocks him on the back of his skull. Knocked just off balance, he falls forward and his shirt, loosened just enough from damage and no longer being tucked in quite right, catches the sharp points of a taloned gauntlet Magnus turns to avoid. A stinging pain as the claws contact flesh, the sound of ripping cloth as threads are torn, and a whump as body hits the floor gracelessly.

"Dammit." Hesche picks himself off the floor and, sure enough, his shirt now sports four long tears in it, one having parted his shirt from the left side of neck to his right neck, making the chest more of a flap than anything else. To go with them are very thin, very shallow scratches gently oozing blood. Nothing to be worried about, especially after a quick taste doesn't suggest any poisons that would've killed him by now anyway. Then there are some inevitable bruises and scrapes, but those won't last too long.

"Ah well." Smiling and shrugging, he brushes himself off. Rubbing the back of his head reveals no concussion, so he walks along to the next door with a nonchalant whistle.

The figure clad in the impressive suit of armor hesitated for a moment, after Speaker went for a swim in a perfect cat-like leap, drawing an interesting arching of an eyebrow by Aleinna, noting something familiar with the stance of the warrior, and even more, with the detail of a pair of weird large human designed pistols hanging from protective wraithbone holsters at the waist of the slim form.

Just as she approached the figure, it jumped into the air, entering the clear water in a soft dive with a clean move that provoked just a tiny splash.

Oh, damn, now we're clearly in problems. Who was the genius that came out with this idea anyway?, the Marquise thought, rolling her eyes. Opening her comm, she readied herself to guide and help the high ranking adventurers...

Down in the water, the wings sockets of the angel shaped armor were replaced by a small set of underwater, reactive turbines, thanks to an automatic system, that let the armoured warrior to displace downwards without too much effort, at an amazing speed. She reached the hatch really fast, as if alread knowing the exact location of the entrance to the underground area, and grabbed the wheel, signaling to speaker showing an armoured thumb up, the bubbles from the mask's breathing device all around the ornated helmet.

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As the dust and the particles settled down, Hesche noted that the weird explosion, although sending out a heat wave, didn't produce any fires.

And yet he wasn't alone in the long hall. Two smoking, vaporous spheres of blue light, strangely similar to the hue that produced the former crystal spiderweb, were at his sides, one at the left and one at his right. As the heat from the explosion quickly died away, Magnus felt how the room was being drained of the warmth in it, as if the glowing orbs were sucking it away.

The door was still closed, albeit more than a bit damaged by the shockwave. And as soon the scolopendran approached it, he could sense the strange feeling of icy fingers crawling through his skull and reaching his brain. And again he heard voices inside his head, this time not one, but two, raspy and harsh, filled with an ancient tone, and speaking in perfect concordance with fast, quickly enunciated words.

Human, listen carefully, you freed us from our prisons, started the first.

Thank you, you blasted the armors. Quite an achievement for a Mon-Keigh, inmediately retorted the second.

The treasure is yours, if you can bypass the seer and the dragon
We will help you, not out of love, but out of spite
You'll open the door speaking our names aloud
Selimeth
Elthrine
Avenge us, defeat the terror and the slaver
Pick up our weapons
Do not
The dragon wants you, beware of her games
Go back if you can, if you value your soul
In the next room, a seer is waiting, beware of his riddles
And then the dragon
She wants you to freed her. She wants to rule
For Vaul, do not pay heed to her, slay the monster before it plays with your mind
Determination is the key. You must fight for something
Do not lose, for yourself, for your people, for ours
Find a cause, not greed, not ambition
Again, thanks, human. You released us for the worst of the fates

The voices started to fade, repeating more and more phrases that were no longer intelligible. As the voices dissapeared, so did the orbs of light, slowly dissolving into darkness until they were no longer there, leaving just a whisper behind.

Be careful. Take care

Speaker swims more conventionally, meeting up with the armored trooper below. At the thumbs-up he looks up and prepares to rise, and then realizes that isn't the intent. Why would she be relying on such hand signals anyway when they can speak through their suit gear? He returns the gesture and gently moves her aside as he takes the wheel. Planting his feet, he grips, muscles tighten and visibly bulge in preparation under the armorpoly suit, and then he moves.

The original idea is that a sharp action would help break the dog's axle from whatever grime or grease that would naturally tend to freeze it in place after unuse. Time is of the essence, and so a little bit of effort isn't out of place.

Of course, it's not nearly that hard and the wheel almost spins freely in his grip. Kzinti reaction times serve Rrit well, though, as he immediately eases off and just helps it along its way as he undogs the hatch. Drawing his monomolecularly-honed combat wt'sai from its sheath on his belt, he opens it up with one hand with visible but not extreme effort then leaps in. He holds his wt'sai out in front of him in a moderate, maneuverable stance as he lets the water just carry him along in his own form of leaves on the wind. Despite, or perhaps because of, the severity of the situation he can't help but lapse into traditionality. "Forward! I lead my Heroes!"

* - * - *

The suggestion of psychic encroachment immediately raises Hesche's emergency mental defenses to the point that air wafts away from him in a relatively gentle shock, the kind that would blow away paper but not much else. Given that all these are passive defenses, that's saying something; he keeps them up as he listens to the voices. "Great. Why is it that whenever people have lurking horrors they just bury them underground and hope that a convoluted series of guards will keep it safe until the right guy wanders along that can beat the horror?"

He grumbles, but it's good natured. Surprisingly so, once he answers his own question. "They do it so I have tests to take and worlds to save. It's not like this is the first brooding evil I've ever had to face." Even though he speaks aloud, his mind is no longer open as it previously was. He has every intent of keeping his thoughts to himself. Still, there is the question in that those two gave conflicting advice. Take a weapon or don't, and leave if I can? Bah. Now they've got me curious and there's no way I'm not going to see it through to the end, 'specially if there's good that needs done. Bending down, he picks up one of the less battered-looking chainswords, testing the switch to make sure it works before putting it back down. Next step is to retrieve one of the shuriken pistols, and he practices target shooting once or twice across the room to get the hang of the unfamiliar weapon before strapping it to his leg for a right-handed draw. Besides, if I don't need them I can always ditch them later.

With his hands now free, he takes up the sword again in his right hand, makes sure it's inactive, and gingerly rests the blunt back of it on his shoulder, arm bent comfortably. He looks practically lackadaisical as he stands in front of the door and announces proudly, "Open in the names of Selimeth and Elthrine!"

As happened to Hesche some time ago, the water current carried the Kzin down the wraithbone cylinder as he went into the hatch, depositing him in the knee deep pool of water several seconds after, right in front of the first encoded door.

Three seconds after Speaker landed, the armoured aelosian came out of the conduct, throwing itself to the right, avoiding what would be a comical crash in the little pool. The figure stood quite fast, quickly the armour emitting a low, humming sound as the compartments along the hips of the suit opened to show a pair of silver pistols crafted by human gunsmiths, replicas of an old style of automatic handgun known as the Colt .45.

The automated voice of the elf helmet issued a few words. "I thought the thumb signal was a nice sign, looks like I was wrong. And nice battlecry, Do you have it registered?"

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The chainsword looked functional, and started a low hum as Hesche tried it, with no doubt some kind of electromagnetic field improving the mechanical edge. And the pistol, although looked exactly like shuriken pistol, opened a deep gash in the wraithbone wall as Magnus fired the first round, with no doubt some improved version of the standard eldar projectile, giving it a higher penetration and explosive properties, joined with a higher amount of recoil, too.

As soon as the names of the eldar warriors were pronounced, the door in front of Hesche opened in the most violent and fast fashion possible, the makers with no doubt having a sense of drama when they developed the device, leaving the way clear to a darkened hall only illuminated by a greenish light.

The hall, more like a hallway, ran deep into the structure, showing a red carpet along the floor until it finally reached a throne in the end. A figure was sitting in the chair, looking grim under a hooded, black cloak.

The kzintosh grumbles quietly. "It is... traditional. As this is your territory and you can more easily read the language," he says, indicating the text carved into the door frame ahead with a motion of his head, "you should take the lead." Taking that in mind, he sheathes his knife and draws one of the standard issue powerguns common to the Segments. Looking unusually bulky in human hands, it actually seems rather small proportionally when Speaker wields it.

* - * - *

Hesche strides through the door casually and confidently, undeterred by any sort of violent motion on its behalf. It is a door, he's opened it, and now it's time to go through. Bare feet padding on the carpet, he glances to either side nonchalantly to make sure there's no arrow shooters or laser beams or other such traps, trying to get as best a feel of the room as he can before he stops several meters in front of the throne. Right hand resting on the butt of the pistol strapped to his leg, left hand gingerly wiggling the sword he has resting on his shoulder, Magnus smirks.

"A little bird told me you've got some riddles," he says to the robed figure, or maybe to the room in general, "so we might as well get to it then, unless you can just tell me where the next door is." He stretches up on the balls of his feet to try looking past the throne to see if the next door is behind the throne.

"I'll take care of the door, your wishes are orders", announced the voice, now entirely free of the trasponder, letting the soft, musical sound of the tone come out of the helmet, an instant after a pressurized sound announcing that the helmet was being separated from the body suit.

Removing the head piece with her left hand, the figure stood in front of the door, giving the back to Speaker, letting the soft, brown reddish hair fall upon the armoured shoulders, the deep, clear blue eyes examining the signs of the door for two oor three seconds.

"Amlug", said the melodic, sweet voice of Princess Aliria to the door, and it opened softly, moving the heavy planks to the sides. After sliding a few words into the open microphone of her neck piece in sindarin, she turned to Speaker, and bowed as low as she could, letting her hair cover her face a second after she let the Kzin know who she was.

"You lead, and I follow. Show me what a hero is, and how anyone can become one, I want to learn, mentor", she said, in her words not the slightest hint of irony, sarcasm or plain joke, but deep seated respect. It was an impressive image, the tiny, almost diminute in comparison armoured elven Princess giving an oath of obedience to the tall, imposing, regal, armed Kzin.

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"How distinctive of a human, showing lack of courtesy and disrespect. Just to try to speak in your wretched dialect give my bones a disgusting shake", said the figure beneath the hood. "Just because you were lucky blasting the armours apart do not mean your are wise, Mon-Keigh", the last term once upon a time used by the eldar as a despective form of refer to humans.

"You are looking for a door, and there is no door in this hall. That is a show of your dumbness and stupidity. I am the door, lowbeing, and if you want to pass, as the useless warriors said, you need to answer to my riddles. A powerful seer I was, able to rip off the fabric of space and time", continued the figure, not moving at all, totally motionless under the ragged cloak and the hood.

"Of course I am wasting my scarce breath telling you this, but, I have to, just to have the pleasure to see your round, ugly head burst if you fail" the former seer added. "This is the first riddle...It is an easy one indeed, for those with the gift..."

The raspy voice changed, and filled with resonance to form a powerful, echoing tone that filled entirely Magnus' head with the words of both the riddle and the spell, so he couldn't hear one without accepting the other. The letany was like a poem, musical, and melodic.

All dwelling in one world are strange brothers three,
as unlike as any three brothers could be,
yet try as you may to tell brother from brother,
you'll find that the trio resemble each other.
The first isn't there, though he'll come beyond doubt.
The second's departed, so he's not about.
The third and the smallest is right on the spot,
and manage without him the others could not.
Yet the third is a factor with which to be reckoned
because the first brother turns into the second.
You cannot stand back. and observe number three,
for one of the others is all you will see.
So tell me, my child, are the three of them one?

As the words of the spell riddle were over, the aged, perhaps dead, eldar spoke to Magnus again, recovering his raspy and unpleasant voice. "That's your first riddle, my daughter's favourite. Tell me, human, the names of the brothers, and the name of the kingdom they rule together and are it as well"

Speaker blinks, then takes off his helmet and just looks at the comically-small-in-comparison young Aelosian woman. Then he smiles, thin lips curling up a touch at the ends, parasol-like ears flicking. "You are well on your way, then." He returns the bow, although keeping an eye on the door. "Given your equipment I will assume you are trained in combat."

He turns to the door and crouches however much he needs to as he draws his wt'sai again with his left hand, holding it point down as he stabilizes the barrel of his gun on his left fist. His next move is to go through the door, his eyes quickly acclimating to the light. "The difference between a warrior or a soldier and a Hero is a simple one to conceive but hard to achieve," he says softly, a growling rumble that avoids the rasping sibilance of a more human whisper, "and it is the difficulty which gives it value. A soldier is expected through duty to overcome adversity in war upon orders or initiative. A Hero is like that, but he must overcome adversity in all aspects of life. He must act with honor and duty even when it isn't in his best interest.

"The word 'hero' in English has come simply to mean one who is looked up to by others by their deeds. To be a Hero, as I see it, requires both more and less. One does not need to be a great warrior to be a Hero, but one must live up to the honor code that defines Heroic conduct and not fearfully shy away from danger or adversity. In this case, Magnus may be in danger." The kzintosh carefully watches the worm-bored corridor as he speaks. "It would be wisest, perhaps, to wait for a rescue party of elite warriors to be assembled, briefed, and sent in to find him. That would minimize potential losses by limiting them to essentially Hesche, who could already be dead by that point. That is the logical answer... but Heroism is not necessarily logical.

"Logic suggests caution. If you see someone whose car has broken down on a busy road, you logically consider that there are other people with more mechanical skill who can help that person more--especially on a busy road--and so move on. The honorable and therefore Heroic thing to do is to stop and help in whatever way you can, even if it is only to call a mechanic for the person in trouble. The person is in need of aid and although it be a challenge you can supply aid.

"Magnus, for as much as he annoys me from time to time, is a friend, and so any risk to him demands immediate action. We tarried only as long as I dared to get equipment that would make success more likely. In any idealism, reality must be considered lest nothing be accomplished. Now we are here. It may not be the wisest course, but it is the Heroic and therefore right one for me."

* - * - *

Hesche smirks. "Diplomacy is just a side job to me, but at least through being blunt I got a straight answer for once. The fool who asks is only a fool for five minutes; the fool that doesn't ask remains a fool forever." He raises the hilt and guard of his obtained sword in a little salute, then receives the riddle with a confident smile.

As riddles go, they come in classes and these classes are prone to recall. A progression from one to the other with a inestimably infinitesimal bit inbetween. Magnus checks what he thinks the answer is with the evidence and smiles. "Well, this foolish monkey-boy's heard something like that before and so has an answer. The brothers are the past, present, and future, and as such are and rule all of time. The past becomes the future, which is always sure to come; the present cannot be observed because as Mrs. Lovett points out,
'Time's so fast
Now goes quickly--
See, now it's past!

"Now, I suppose you're the one asking the questions but I'm curious: if you used to be able to rend space and time, what's brought you to the state you're in now? Doesn't seem like something one would volunteer for, just sitting on a throne all alone in the dark." He thinks some more, ponders the armors he just left behind, and begins to commisserate. "Well, I am sorry for my previous rudeness. Everyone's got parts to play and the fact you're an obstacle at the moment may not actually be your fault. We've started out on the wrong foot--mea culpa. I'm Magnus Hesche; who may you be, sir?"

"I see", said the Princess as she placed her helmet back on, yet removing the mask over it so her face could be seen. "So it takes to be brave to be a hero, as I thought, and yet you have to be prudent at the same time. But how do you draw the line?", she asked as she entered the wormhole alongside Speaker, trying to pull out one of the heavy pistols, Emperor Treznor's gifts, from its holster, and also trying to avoid the Kzin to realize the effort it was costing her to do so. After all, he seemed to had taken for granted that she had combat abilities . Thanks to Eru for the looks of the royal armor, I hope mother do not realize it is missing too soon.

"I mean", she added, staying behind her mentor, "Perhaps if you launch yourself into a burning building, hoping to rescue the inhabitants without the proper training or equipment, will just add you to the list of those in need, making the work of the skilled rescuers even harder. Are you truly helping someone in that situation? You are being more than brave enough, but not prudent enough. As another example, we're here trying to save Sire Hesche from whatever dire circumstances he's inmersed, but we are both important personalities in our countries. If something happens to us, the leadership of our nations could be compromised. Aren't we jeopardizing the political situation of our peoples by placing ourselves in danger? Kith would say no, but my mother would say yes, although both say that leaders, as heroes, should lead by example. Is prudence less important than reckless and inmediate actions?", explained the Princess as she managed to walk the surface easily thanks to the help of the servosuit.

"Kith told me once that being a hero is not having fear or contempt, but controlling them, and added that heroes faced danger with determination as that is their duty", she paused for a second, as thinking before saying the next words. "But then, what confuses me is that he also said that being a hero is doing more than just fulfilling your duty. Are those values opposed to your idea of a hero, mentor, Sire?, and if they are not, How being a hero is a duty that goes far from the duty itself?"
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"Well done, human. You didn't even think that one, my daughter would had been pleased and puzzled at the same time", said the ghastly figure, raising a hand so Hesche could take a look at the decayed flesh barely covering the slim, pale bones.

"Your change of attitude is pleasing to me, and perhaps I should be sorry for being so...Rude is the word? I guess you are not just another graverobber, but someone that ended in this place forgotten by Vaul by strange circunstances", the figure made gestures as it spoke, in a slow, almost automated way.

"My name used to be Aelophim of Maidena, Farseer of the Kionash, but as far as I know, there's no Kionash anymore, or Craftworld, or Seer Council, so I would be Old Wise Aelophim for you, Great Hesche. Death brought me to my current state, as you can see, my seer abilities were removed as part of my punishment, and as you might find predictable, my punishment is to guard this place with riddles for all eternity as far as I know. I still hold enough psychic power to be a threat to unwanted intruders, but not enough to even kill myself and be released. My fellow seers didn't approve my thoughts on the non eldar beings, along with my relationships with them, and thus condemned me by our laws, to serve them in whatever way they could see fit. Undeath was a common punishment back then, so I got my sentence, along with those that I loved and held dear. I loved riddles when I was alive, so they thought it was fitting to keep me telling them forever". The figure looked now bent, as if his own words were placing a weight over his head and shoulders.

"But you gave me the right answer to the first riddle, so I must issue the second now. This was the one I issued to my beloved the night I met her under that Maiden World's forest, a cold night of winter in the Outer Rim fourth planet. She was glowing, in that glade, glowing in white and blue, dancing and singing along her people...", the raspy voice almost sobbed when said the last words, but recovered and issued the words of the riddle-spell, his tone regaining the power, but this time with a sad, romantic and ligering note of sorrow and grief.

I'm that which is seen only in darkness,
Curtain of faeries, of the moon a mime;
Day's distant sister, legend of fairness
I light without shadow, can you solve this rhyme?

"Hrrr... this is where translation becomes problematic. When people say 'hero,' they mean different things. To Kith, what he probably means is what others mean when they say 'above and beyond the call of duty.' It is the duty of any soldier to fight. But to do something of exceptional bravery, like single-handedly destroying a machine-gun nest to save one's platoon pinned by its fire, is what he means by 'hero.' I agree, that is Heroic. But who I am, what I am, demands I see the word Hero--Kzin--in a different light. It is the ideal of my culture, akin to what humans mean when they say someone is 'humane' or 'a real man' but all rolled into one. Cool under pressure, but righteously angry at injustice; fair, noble in spirit, just, honorable... all that is what we each personally strive for. As Patriarch of my people, I am supposed to embody that spirit and ideal as best that any kzin can. That is why I am here.

"In a burning building, yes, an untrained rescuer can simply become another victim. We may simply become other victims, but the attempt is noble. A true Hero must also know one's limitations, to save and fight and win as he can... or die valiantly in the attempt. But dead Heroes don't continue to serve. It all becomes a balance of risks and precautions, of duty and self-respect. Any hero, or Hero, can become another victim through chance or probability. Another duty of the Hero is to make that chance as low as feasible.

"Have you ever heard the saying 'there is a fine line between bravery and foolishness?' In many people's minds, the line depends on results. That is cynical. To me, it depends on the calculation. If one screams and leaps, one is a fool who may occasionally be Heroic. If one calculates, finds it is a good or the only time to leap, and then leaps, then leaps... one is more Heroic than the other, win or lose."

He chuckles softly, breath whuffling gently through his nostrils. "When it comes to our governments, I can be replaced in short order. You... not so much. That is why I am in front, and why we must take extra caution. Eyes wide and silent hunting." The last is an order--a gentle order, to be certain, but an order nonetheless--given from years of being used to command in means both civilian and paramilitary. The hallway would have to end eventually, and when it does it would be best to be aware and quiet.

* - * - *

Hesche listens quietly to the Farseer's story. "Well, Old Wise Aelophim, there still is a Craftworld happily populated by the Aelosians. I'm a Senior Diplomatic Officer from the Federated Segments of Scolopendra, ostensibly on a diplomatic mission to Aelosia... but I found some free time and got invited on an adventure by Lakhmesis the Polymarch. Adventure, not riches, is how I improve myself so... here I am now.

"I've already gathered that Lakhmesis is a dragon, and the souls I released from the armor said he isn't to be trusted. If you could tell me anything about it, I would really appreciate it. If he really is some sort of lurking evil, then for the sake of the billions living around us I have to stop him. Half because I fight for truth, justice, and the good (or try to) and half because fighting lurking evil is something of my specialty." The metallic tattoos running up and down his left arm glow slightly. "As you've probably felt, I'm not the run-of-the-mill diplomat."

Magnus ponders the riddle for a few moments. "'Only seen in darkness,' 'day's distant sister,' and 'of the moon a mime' all suggest 'star.' Planets appear in daylight, not stars; stars are all spacially distant 'sisters' of the Sun, poetically; and they all follow the Moon in more or less circular patterns around the Earth's axis, thus miming it. Still, 'light without shadow' suggest starlight, as the light of all the stars tend to cancel each other out if one just puts a stick in a field. It's one of the two, I know it. Hmm."

He strokes his chin. "I don't know how picky we're being about answers. It's either 'starlight' or 'the stars.' Still... it's 'the day's distant sister' and not 'the sun's' so I'm going to go with starlight." Right or wrong, he looks dedicated to his answer now that he's picked it.

Princess Aliria was many things, and had many flaws, and although she wasn't the sharpest knife in the aelosian drawer, she wasn't a fool. Even although she still had many questions, as if all Kzin were heroes, and which acts of his life would Speaker consider heroic, she caught Speaker's indication quite fast, and with a nod she placed herself a step behind the regal form of the Scolopendran and put the helmet in place over her head, the mask automatically sliding over her features again with a slight buzz, the heir of the aelosian throne quietly following the foreigner trying to remain both calm and silent.

The wormhole-like tunnel came into an end, as both finally reached the second hall of the underground complex. However, its appearance was quite different than it was when Hesche's entered. The explosion had blown the crystal net, filling the room with shards of clear blue glass, and scattered the remains of the fallen warriors, not leaving a single skeleton placed together, but the floor and the walls filled with pieces and slivers of bone, even half an elven skull laying at the entrance, few inches away from Speaker's feet. The wraithbone structure was a bit blackened in places, and even shattered and crackled in part, but still the door and its cryptic engravings remained, closing the access to the next room.

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"The ship stays, but it's no longer a Craftworld. I felt when the souls of my people departed this place", said the cloaked seer, shaking its head to the sides. "And you said now it is called Aelosia? That name brings memories to me, memories not pleasant at all, even as it holds a similarity to my own. That was the name of my dear Elurín, the Dancer under the Starlight. I think you have been framed by someone who is disguising as the true ruler, and the true owner, of this place", added the figure.

"Regarding Lakhmesis, the Polymarch...Well, let's start telling you that she's unpredictable. Yes, the Polymarch is a she, a female dragon, and as most creatures of that gender, her temper is...shifting. Back in the days of the Carftworld of Maidena, she helped us, and fought alongside her people shoulder by shoulder with our troops. Oh!, how I cherished those days. The drakes carrying the Exodite nobles into battle, dropping from the blue sky, as we dispelled the evil of the marauding chaos", Old Wise Aelophim dropped his shoulders again, after a hidden emotion coloured his last words.

"But they were gone, and not even with the help of the drakes we were able to turn the neverending tide of evil. Without the help from the Queen of All Dragons, the Polymarch, we were doomed, Chaos would had engulfed us. And then, with the passing centuries, she aged, and approached to the last day of her life. We, the Farseer council of Maidena, refused to let her die, as her death would condemn our own existence, our selfish desires forbidding us to see the consequences of our acts", Aelophim shook his head again as if in dissapointment.

"And so, we prolongued her life, we...maintained her failing body, convincing her by pleading that without her we would face the defeat at the hands of servants of the four powers. What we didn't know is that the process messed with her mind, already an able, feral, cunning, and dangerous mind. The results were almost a catastrophe, and we, the same that claimed to be her friends, decided to lock her in the depths of this place, under the Palace of the Seers, unable to control her rage, but hoping one day to liberate her power and fury upon our enemies again. Once she was the Queen of all Drakes, now she's nothing but a sleeping carcass. Her current state is unknown to me, but she could be both a blessing or a curse. If she retains some of the honorable soul inside that carcass that once was the best ally of the eldar, then she could be a blessing. If the madness inside her has taken a hold, even worst, if she desires retribution for staying locked there for centuries, then she could mean the end of this place if she's ever freed again"

"With my last prediction, based in logic and not in warp reading I can tell you this, Great Hesche. If you walk the path leading to Lahkmesis, you will have to face the most difficult choices of your short, mortal life. To label her as a lurking evil is to take the easy way. Everything regarding the Polymarch of Drakes is a two-edged sword. And everything you will find ahead are dilemmas far more difficult than my childish riddles", said the skeletal seer, removing his hood to show to Magnus his features.

Barely more than a thin, parchment-like sheet of flesh covered the thin skull, the face strangely similar to any historical mummy Hesche could have ever seen. Bandages, dirty and unkempt, covered partially the holes in the flesh, letting Hesche see parts of bone near the jaw and under the eyes of the ghastly figure, who had just one red, glowing eye and the nose missing. Even then, he managed to keep a regal and proud stance not accord with his looks.

"And that reminds me of the third riddle, forget this old and rusted mind, after all you have defeated the first two. Starlight was the answer, aye. The people of the Starlight, we called to those exodites called elves. But here is the third one, and no matter what happens after I issue the words, this will be the last time you'll hear my voice, Great Hesche", the tongueless mouth kept moving, although the words with no doubt had more a mystical origin than a physical one. "It was a pleasure to meet a human of your stature. And if I may ask a favor in exchange for the information I gave to you, please go to the grave of my dear Elurín and deposit some crystal flowers in my name there. But then where I was?...Oh, the riddle, yes, the riddle. This one was the favourite of my bodyguards and best warriors under my orders, Selimeth and Elthrine, also my best friends in life and my companions in undeath. You had the chance of meeting and freeing them, and I am also grateful for that"

The voice regained its power, and with a thunderous tone it pronounced its last words, the last riddle, this one not in verse, but issued slowly. As the words were spoken, the surroundings changed, placing Hesche into a hologram vision of the riddle.

You are a proud warrior, one of those that cannot hold insults to your pride. Over an issue of wounded honor, you are engaged with two another fighters to an unavoidable duel in a maiden world. As the sunset fades and the night falls, you find yourself standing at 12 o'clock in a giant stone circle, having a one shot shuriken pistol in your hand. Elthrine the Red stands at 4 o'clock, and Selimeth the Blue stands at 8 o'clock. They have pistols exactly like yours, and all three have unlimited ammo. Your opponents have decided to let you the courtesy of be the first to fire a single shot. Then firing will continue one shot at a time in a clockwise fashion until there is only one person standing.

You are a horrible marksman with the probability of inflicting a fatal shot in 1 of 5 attempts. Elthrine the Red is an average marksman with the probability of inflicting a fatal shot in 1 of 3 attempts. Selimeth the Blue, Striking Scorpion Exarch, is an excellent marksman with the probability of inflicting a fatal shot in 1 of 1 attempts, never ever missing a shot.

You are not allowed to communicate with the other duelists, your and their honor forbids you to do so. You cannot run, you would be disgraced and forced to die. You cannot hide, or quit the duel, as your opponents would slain you nevertheless.

Your opponents give each other a respect bow, then they do the same to you. It's your turn, and there is a way you can maximize your chances of winning this duel. Who do you fire at?

Speaker quickly sweeps the room, panning his weapon across it a few times until he concludes that the place is dead. Ears fanning out, he sniffs the air while keeping his pistol and knife at low-ready, pointing the huge barrel at a particularly non-threatening scrap of cloth and bone that survived for millenia before this latest disaster. "Hesche was here," he says, gingerly moving to the middle of the room, "but not here now. There is no blood nor scent of carbon; whenever this place exploded he was not harmed by it. Wait." Sniffing some more, he drops still lower with a grace and flexibility that would be the envy of most contortionists, padding along until he finds a gauntlet with the slightest bit of crimson on its armored fingertips.

"Not much blood, and not much harm." He stands up and looks at first the solidly-built door blocking the way beyond, then the open doorway leading back. "Still it seems the only way is through. What do you know of this place?"

* - * - *

Hesche nods thoughtfully as the old lich Farseer explains things. "You see, sir, that's why I ask. I figure I'll cross whatever bridges there are once I come to them; before then, though, I would like to know what's going on. You've helped dramatically that way--thank you." He frowns a bit, but wholely in thought; he's not one to turn down a challenge be it physical or moral. "I'll be certain to fulfill your wish, once I find the grave. Good luck and may you find your rest."

He listens to the last riddle in Stoic silence; he looks over the holographic situation presented to him with the same thoughtful frown he held on his visage previously. This is a tricky one. The initial instinct is to fire at the most threatening target, the Blue over there, he thinks as he looks at the hypothetical Exarch, but that is based on the assumption I will probably miss and the other two will shoot at each other. If I do hit, then I am immediately engaged by the Red; this assumes that everyone is playing the game with his or her own best interest in mind. A modification on the classic Prisoner's Dilemma... but if I don't make that assumption, then the only wrong answer is to shoot myself.

Now, we know that assuming all players to be playing to their best interest, the Red and the Blue will concentrate on each other, as I am the least threat (and dramatically so). Therefore, if the goal is to maximize the chances of winning, I should do nothing that could interfere with that shootout, which will inevitably end after one round one way or the other. The answer, in that case, is to intentionally miss and thus not risk either one firing at me during the first round. Betting on my own liklihood of missing still changes the odds, so taking the shot is--in a planning sense, and in the terms of the riddle--counterproductive.

The optimal outcome is for me to not fire, for the Red to kill the Blue, and for me to kill the Red. But that's irrelevant. Let's see. One in five, one in three, unity... He runs some numbers in his head, consisting of multiplying fractions. Frowning, Magnus gives up on that because he wouldn't have become a mystic diplomat if he had a Horatio Hornblower-esque knack for mathematics. "Given I'm such a poor shot and therefore a negligible threat to the other two, and assumption that the other two are also interested in winning and will therefore target the largest threat to them, the optimal answer is to shoot no one. If the assumption is incorrect, all bets are off."

"As far as I know, this is a crypt. And also as far as I know, this place does not exist", said Princess Aliria, with no doubt surprised at the sight of the hall filled with bone slivers, rest of ancient equipment. She even flinches at the sight of blood. "The Marquise is doing an extensive research over the place, but until now, nothing in the Imperial archives of knowledge has proved to be of any use. The ones that hid this place did a good job".

The Princess approached the door, with slow and careful movements, as the advanced sensors placed in her armor suit detected possible traps and threats. She read the contents of the inscription placed over the door's frame, slowly whispering the translation.

"Makes no sense to me. Let me send the information to the Marquise, for sure she will find something regarding the followers of the dragon that is supposed to be buried here. Are you sure that Master Hesche is ok? This place looks like it was ravaged by a huge bla..."

She suddenly interrumpted herself, pronouncing two names aloud in an entirely different, more posing and commanding voice.

"Selimeth and Elthrine, The Guardians of the Ninth Seer"

The door opened with the same movement as before, when Hesche passed through it. The Princess looked disoriented and confused, but smiled nevertheless. "Looks like we solved the problem, it opened on its own", she added, and turned to Speaker with a sincere smile in her lips and her hands posed on her hips.

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The mummified features of the preserved seer didn't allow him to smile, but somehow, the grin in his twisted face managed to transmit such impression upon Hesche. "So, if you have to pull the trigger, and yet you don't take a shot at any of your opponents, then you shoot to the air", said the eldar undead, helping Hesche just a tiny bit, as the human managed to pick the right answer after all.

"So, if you shoot into the air, the Red, the next on the line, will be forced to shoot the Blue or die in Blue's next turn for sure. If he hits, dead Blue will pass and you will still have another chance against Red alone, if he misses, Blue will also engage the highest threat, finishing Red, and you will have another chance against blue alone. If you run the numbers, you are the one with most chances of winning the duel with your answer", the wise prophet added.

"But enough of the useless chat. You vanquished my riddles and deserve an audience with the Polymarch of Drakes. Thank you for freeing me, Magnus Hesche, envoy of the Scolopendran peoples. They are lucky to have you amongst their ranks. I'll go now, and as a gift I'll let you pick my ring. The door will appear as soon as I crumble into dust. Good luck, although beings like you do not need it"

With those words of farewell, the figure started to decompose, the pieces falling to the ground around the throne before turning into dust and ashes. Soon no remains lasted, with the exception of a bright ring with a green stone over the small mound of debris, and a glowing portal started to open right over the throne, making the seat dissappear, replacing it for a door made of bright blue energy, crackling as expecting to engulf Hesche if he took a step towards it.

The kzinti have, in their 'assimilation' into the Segments, picked up several human gestures just as the humans adopted the kzinti dislike for exposed teeth.

The raised eyebrow is one of those gestures, and Speaker demonstrates it as he gives Aliria an appraising look. "No, you are too modest. You said 'Selimeth and Elthrine, the guardians of the ninth seer' and then the door opened. Good work." He ignores the other weirdness involved. "I am certain that nothing here harmed Hesche. Other than these few drops on the gauntlet, there is no fresh blood here, and no scent of fresh meat in the air--only old decay." He sniffs a few more times to confirm it, then nods towards the door as he silently stalks to and through it, knife and pistol in hand.

* - * - *

"Fare well," Hesche says with a bow before being struck with a bit of heroism. Standing at attention, he swaps the sword to his right hand and snappily salutes with it--flat back to right shoulder, raised above shoulder height with the blade tilted forward thirty degrees, and then sliced down to a few inches above the ground--as the long-dead Seer fades away. Once the liche has finally left this plane, he swaps hands again and sighs quietly to himself. "Well," he says sotto voce, "no matter how this goes from here I've done something right."

He steps forward, picks up the ring, and examines it in the light of the portal. Figuring it's only fitting, he puts it on the otherwise bare first finger of his right hand then looks with a firm gaze at the portal as it grows. Resting the sword he borrowed casually on his left shoulder, his face firms into something too sincere to be a mask of duty before stepping forward into the crackling blue hole. And I'm going to keep doing things right, because people depend on it.

"Did I?", said the elf woman, clearly even more confused. "Flashback, maybe?". Looking a bit more than foolish, she decided to follow the big Kzin, standing on her tiptoes as if preventing from making any noise. "So, anything in there?", she asked in a whisper as she reached the tiger-man location.

As the Kzin looked to the other side the door, he could stare at the room of the farseer, with the glowing blue energy portal where the throne used to be. A humanoid figure just dissapeared into it, as sucked by the light, although barely Speaker was able to identify the silouette without any details, framed against the glow.

"Now that was weird, and surprising", was the only coment of the Princess, looking pretty amazed at the portal.

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Hesche just heard as the door opened behind him, the same door he entered to reach the Farseer's hall. But even before he had time to turn back, the blue, energy portal sucked him inside, and the world turned dizzy, rotative, and blue, as if he was spinning inside an old washing machine alongside a set of hyper powered blue flashlights.

He fell spinning for what looked like a pair of minutes, and finally was placed atop of what seemed to be a floor made of tiny, round metal pieces. As he slowly recovered his vision from the blue glow, that with no doubt left his sight a bit disoriented, he saw that he was in a huge dome, almost the size of a big cathedral's main structure, made from a white material strangely similar to the halls he was before, with the clear exception that the surface of the circular structure was smoother, if possible, and it was extremely white. The floor was entirely covered with coins, looking like made of coins, that formed huge mounds of gold, silver, nickel, steel, and zinc everywhere. Along the coins the occassional jewel could be seen, and packages of credits, argentums, dollars and currency bills of at least a hundred different kinds, as also marvelous pieces of art and decoration scattered along the place.

Near him an harp decorated with thumb sized emeralds rested, ten steps to the right, an ornated sword lay abandoned, a fist size ruby covering its pommel. But the most strange things amongst all that wealth, were the trash placed over it. Rusted beer cans, the abandoned wheel of a bicycle, discarded keys, a broken personal computer, a set of brooms, a pair of outdated rifles, former shirts, pants and dresses that looked like shred rags, antiques like compact disks, plastic recipients, a teddy bear, wires, a broken leather chair, a credit card and even a full bag of plastic picnic forks and spoons not far from where Magnus was standing.

A huge silvery, slightly blue hill of scales covered at least the third part of the room, resting over the biggest mound of gold lingots and jewels Hesche could ever see. Just a second later a loud, deep sound filled the dome, like a yawn from a whale sized creature, and near the end of the hill that was the dragon laying calm, a pair of eyelids, bigger than two Magnus, opened to show a red mechanic device similar to an eye, with the characteristic buzzing of a machine.

The dragon spoke, opening its long and scary muzzle but without moving its lips or tongue, using a soft, seductive female tone more proper to a human sized tramp than to a huge, towering ancient reptile.

"So, you arrived, handsome Magnus. I see you are as attractive in person as I had foreseen"

Spinning through infinite claustrophobic space that mixes all the worst parts of Picasso's Blue Period and a techno rave discotecque, Magnus finds himself closing his eyes in a sudden moment of introspectiveness even more severe than the one he normally lives his entire life in. Right now, he's not entirely sure which is worse, in a sign-of-how-things-are-going sort of way: that he is indeed being flung about in some sort of portal through arcane barriers wisely left hidden for kavrillions of years, or that this isn't the first time he's gone off and done this. Probably the latter. Shows I have a resistance to learning things.

Landing on what can only be a rather large amount of filthy luchre can't mean anything good, and given that it seems as if he managed to land squarely on his solar plexus, Hesche is stuck somewhere between the base animal panic of not being able to breathe and being mildly annoyed at his luck. Standing up without a groan (as he can't exactly exhale at the moment), he plays it off with a jaunty grin and a repetition of his earlier sword salute, ending it with a deep bow. This gives him the time to get his breath back without doing his impression of a freshly-angled fish. "So I have... Polymarch Lakhmesis, I presume? While I'm not the worst when it comes to prescience, it is a habit I tend not to practice so I may be pleasantly surprised from time to time--as I find myself now at your own splendor."

As always, every word sounds sincere even with the rakish jauntiness in his voice. Then again, it is sincere, since this sort of give-and-take comes as naturally to the Segments' biggest tease as blinking does to most people. Meanwhile, it may be of interest that he doesn't seem to take note of the gold and jewels or the debris littered around--he doesn't pick anything, doesn't test weights, nor even shuffle through it. He's a diplomat at least half the time, and diplomacy says it's more polite to concentrate on who's talking to you. Eye contact is key, and it's not as if Hesche has any sort of history of humility.

* - * - *

Speaker stops with a start, then sighs. "That was probably him." He growls softly, resorting to quiet muttering--still in English, so he probably doesn't mind being overheard. "It would only figure he would do something that would requiring tearing spacetime. With our luck, it will close before we can get to it."

The kzintosh sits down, clearly not sounding happy at all. "You have probably guessed that Hesche is something more than a diplomat. He is trained to deal with... strange things." Pointing at the rift, he growls. "That qualifies. He has faced things that would make others without his gifts and protections go mad by default. Not knowing what is at the end of that or where it leads, we could simply be screaming and leaping... right off a cliff."

He pauses to look askance at Aliria, eyes slitting slightly. "Unless your flashbacks can shed some light on this, it would be noble but foolish to proceed."

Lakhmesis, the Polymarch of Drakes, was ancient even for elven and eldar accountings of time. Yet as wisdom came with the age, also came insanity, after all a being imprisoned for millenia, encased in a tiny dome of wraithbone, could, and should feel alienated. With insanity came complexes, and an exarcerbation of her already great egocentrism.

However, Lakhmesis as such was a ruler, by merit, of a loose group of subjects that even the lesser amongst them was considerably powerful. She was used to, and delighted to, receive compliments and flattering. The elves and eldar alike that dealt with her were as aloof and respectful as she was, and the deference they showed to her, as the proper Queen of the cunning, magical winged reptiles, pleased her entirely.

She knew the right steps of the diplomatic dance, so took the words of Hesche regarding her "splendor" as the beginning of the classic courtier's ball of pleasant phrases. She knew the next step was a show of humility, so he could admire her even more. The drake was ready to see how creative, and smart, this human who finally reached her was.

"My splendor is something that cannot be apprecciated while I'm crawling like a lowly snake in the floor, Magnus Hesche, Sire", she answered, moving her head towards the tiny figure that was the Scolopendran. She was thankful that the envoy didn't enter waving that sword of him and shouting "take my challenge wyrm!, I'm going to slay you in the name of the greater good", and the fact that he didn't touch anything laying around.

The dragon was huge, even for one of her kind. However, as she slightly moved her body, raising it from the laid position, Hesche noted fairly weird traits on the impressive frame. The scales of the reptile's skin were beautiful, reacting to light showing every spectre of light of the rainbow as the diffuse illumination touched the silvery skin. Yet they weren't placed all over the body of the Polymarch. She had places where the scales were missing, the cover of her body instead replaced by "planks" of smooth, centuries old wraithbone. Her right eye did show a vertical yellow pupil, yet the left was nothing more than a high technological device embedded in her skull, looking like a huge sized red marble. One of her rear legs was also replaced by a prosthetic limb of the same white material of the walls, with articulations and a power source that managed the drake to move it.

With both a natural growl and a mechanical clinking sound the imposing figure of Lakhmesis rose, opening one of the gorgueous wings, (that also sported a hole in the thin membrane uniting it), and continue to talk with Hesche in the seductive, smooth, tone of voice, also maintaining "eye" contact, although The eye fixed in Hesche was her prosthetic one.

"So. Here we are. You came here for the adventure, and I bet the protections that guarded this place provided more than some to a brave heart like yours. Now please be completely honest with me. Are you here to slay a wyrm to earn you fame and glory?"

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"My flashbacks?. No, please, Sire. My experiences. That's a normal warp portal. It will take anyone who enters it through an alternate dimension known as the warp, that is permeated with the essence of what some humans and the eldar called Chaos, until you reach another portal", said the Princess in a normal, almost lecturing tone, pointing at the glowing blue mirage. "Well, what I cannot know is where that thing could take us. For all I know, eldar used warp portals... Not portals, Gates, to travel great distances through the galaxy. We could reappear in the other side of the universe. Perhaps even in another Craftworld or a world protected by the eldar race, a virgin maiden world".

She shook her head for a bit. "That said, I must just say that the gate is just going to take us to someplace else, not to harm us, disintegrate us or destroy us. I may suppose to a place that has no other way of entry but through the warp dimension. Those gates were outlawed right after the Craftworld passed from eldar to elven authorities, it was a bit dangerous to travel the warp without the psychic skills of the eldar. People could get lost and swallowed by daemons and other sentiences present in the warp, without proper guidance by psychic beacons, that our people lacked", continued the Princess, knowing that Speaker needed every detail available to take an important decision as the one presented in front of them.

"Unless you are lead and guided by a psychic, or you have somekind of mental psionic ability, you get lost in that dimension. After proving that they were too dangerous for us to use, they were disabled and destroyed by our first elven rulers, as the secrets of warp travel were lost after the death of the farseers. Not all of them, I can see, at least one of the portals remained active", she finished, taking a seat right next to Speaker and smiling broadly.

"Yet, by the clues I have seen through this place, without any flashbacks I can tell you where that is going to lead, and it is to the lair of a dragon. An imprisoned, perhaps dangerous, inmensely powerful dragon. Magnus Hesche went right into the lair of a terrifying, perhaps hungry, drake. I do not know any further. I guess we should wait here until he either comes back, or to prepare services in the honour of such a brave man that dare to face such dangers", said Aliria, her eyes entirely fixed in the bright pupils of the tiger man.

Hesche raises back up from his bow and plants his borrowed chainsword into the jingly hills of coin in front of him, point down as he rests his hands on top of the guarded pommel. He watches the dragon without obvious fear, although a touch of humor does pervade his features. Imagining what this must look like on the outside, with a barefooted man in tattered and wet physical training gear carrying battered borrowed weapons, it actually takes effort for him to keep from chuckling inappropriately during such a serious matter. "I see how you mean, honored Ancient One," he replies as he catches the shimmery effects with his peripheral vision, continuing to focus on the drake's face; his tone suggests that he is being completely sincere with the Chinese title of respect. "The light off your scales is a particularly dazzling effect not easily seen in repose. Likewise, your experience simply cannot be denied by anyone wishing to show you proper respect." This last is a slight nod to her implants and scars, drawing from the respect for such things found in Kzinti and other warrior cultures. Someone whose face has been battered and broken and scarred is not ugly; he is 'facially experienced.' This is a notion Hesche has always appreciated and stuck to because, quite honestly, it is a more realistic and appropriate estimation of one's character than just to say 'ugly.'

He bows his head in thought momentarily before looking up again to continue. "In complete honesty then. At first I thought there would be slaying, but not for riches or fame. That's not why I do things in general, and more pragmatically I don't have any pockets and no one would believe me." He smiles humorously; he can't help it. He's actually quite enjoying himself. "As it stands now, I've heard several sides and I doubt such an, ah, aggressive strategy would fit my definition of justice. My primary concern is to make sure innocent people long since removed from a string of justice don't get hurt and am willing to do what it takes to make sure they're protected." That much is said with a touch more firmness--not unfriendly in the least, but the mention of an unquestionable catechism. "Beyond that, I want to be as much an agent of justice as I can be. In complete honesty, I'll summarize what I've seen and my thoughts on the matter.

"First, from my conversation with the dead Farseer, I know--well, I've heard, but I suppose there's no need to be overly concerned with semantics at the moment--you were a powerful ally of the Eldar, who then oppressed you in favor of their own self-interest. Hence you being here against your will... I presume, of course. This is only how I'm seeing things in my own mind, pending review.

"Second, from all the long dead I've talked to, you're an unknown quantity. When the fell powers of fracticality were mostly gone, their oppression served no purpose except to alleviate their fear that you would destroy them out of a desire for revenge if released. I honestly don't know enough to figure what would happen one way or the other and thus am flexible, although personally I side with you on this matter--my national and personal ideals demand I fight against oppression and slavery and this story rankles me quite a bit that way.

"Third, and this is something I do know as fact, is that the Eldar are long gone from this place. I don't know how much the current inhabitants know about you, but I suspect it isn't much or else the fountain might at least have some caution ribbon around it or be encased in lucite. That means most of the inhabitants right now are probably blameless in their ignorance and as such it is also my primary duty to protect them."

He sighs quietly for breath. "It comes down to a question of trust for me right now. I want to release you, but I don't know how. I need to ensure the safety of the current inhabitants of the craftworld. For the sake of justice and my honor I need to make sure my needs and wants are compatible here."

* - * - *

Speaker chuckles softly, shaking his head without breaking eye contact. "First you say we cannot guide ourselves through the portal without a psion--which I am not--and then you say you know this leads to a dragon. You guess we should stay here even as you take up a challenging posture." He takes up the little staring contest with unsurprising felinid intentness. "I do not have the knowledge to calculate here, but my spleen says leap. As you appear to know more about this than I do..." He smiles thinly. "I am not so proud as to discount more knowledgable counsel. The decision to leap or stay I leave as an exercise for the student. Upon my honor, either way you choose I will follow and protect you."

The dragon remained motionless for a long time, not even her prostethic eye moving, looking like a statue. Then she blinked with a mechanical sound and faced the human once more.

"So, you are a paladin, defending justice, fighting slavery and protecting the innocent. Who changed your shining armor for such rags?, I didn't recognize you in the beggining for that", the female almost snorted, the face approaching slowly to just inches to Hesche, so he could look the half opened mouth where elongated, ivory teeth looked like long bone swords. "I've met your kind in the past. So I guess you came here to help, without having me breaking havoc in the ship that now harbours your so beloved elves, that once battled the eldar too", said the dragon, now using a tone more proper to an old, serious matron.

"I don't want to escape, even if I could. We could exit this facility, and find ourselves lost in a Maiden planet to the other side of the galaxy. You are, right at this moment, in the outer rim, Magnus. Could take years with a fast ship to reach this stellar position. That warp gate behind you is the ony exit and it is configured to not accept me through", the voice said, hot air coming out of the dragon's snout.

"That said, you could ask why I summoned you here, if not for my freedom. I am too old, and I have surpassed even the lifespan of my kin. I have been replacing parts of myself, and I already feel my organs rotting inside my flesh. I won't hold for long", said the dragon, for a moment a color of sorrow in the tone. "But I don't want my legend to die this way. First, I want to be remembered, as you said, those elves at the outside have already forgotten of my deeds, when we fought against Chaos to buy their lives with our blood"

After a pause, Lahkmesis continued, shifting her head to have a look at Hesche with her natural eye. "Second, I want more than a story, I want my brethren saved. I have conserved my eggs so one day I could trust them to someone who wouldn't harm them, and raise them with memories of their mother. And third, I want revenge. I want that those farseers that recluded me here pay for everything they did, and my sons and daughters instructed to carry that will for me, if sais Farseer exist, if you can take them out of here, and raise one out of your own and give the other to the ruler of the Craftworld out there, I'll be happy".

The dragon raises again, opening up her wings to show her imposing figure. "With said petitions satisfied, I can pass on to whatever destiny awaits me after death. Are you willing to do said things for me? If you do, you will deliver justice to the world, save several infants, and you can also keep my belongings, and share them with the poors and needed of the world. Are you willing to subscribe to my petitions, or should I satisfy my tastes for raw carnivore meat once more?".
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The Princess slowly moved from her position, kneeling softly, with graceful movements, in front of the Kzin. She moved her hands forward, posing them over Speaker's paw-hands, like wanting to feel the fur of the Scolopendran delegqte over her wraithbone-clad gauntlets. Again staring him into the eyes, she spoke with a silk tone, one that according to the sindar traditions was usually reserved to family members. "I am a psion, if either an untrained and flawed one. Great Seer Telgonthrind tried to teach me the basics of the art of the unseen, but he passed away without ending his training. That's why I guess he came again in his undeath here, to finish what he started once. I can try to either reach Magnus' mind or the dragon one through the warp, but my contact with said presences hasn't been long enough to guarantee success. We have chances to appear in the right gate, but we have chances to fail too".

Pausing, but not even blinking, she slowly entwined her hands with the big paws of the tiger being, as trying to regain her own self confidence. "But I still want to learn what a hero is!, and challenging a dragon after facing the most dangerous of Warp travels is an Odyssey worth of tales! And I want to show you that I can be a Hero too!, even if noone else ever know what happened after we came down that fountain. I know I am an important person to my people, as you are too, but your friend needs help, and I need to gain confidence for the nobles to respect me. Noone else can do this for us, no options to delegate here", she spoke as half addressing the Kzin and half addressing herself.

The Princess gave Speaker a soft, low wink with her left eye, her eyelid gently sliding over her pupil, and get free one of her hands to raise her index finger up, right next to her face. "So I say leap!, heroes do not fail when facing the stuff of legends, don't they? We have evils to face and lives to save, our courage will show us the way"

Hesche doesn't budge under the withering stare of the drake, taking the implied challenge head-on but not exactly returning it. He doesn't get into a staring contest; he just maintains eye contact with the same firm yet concerned expression he's been maintaining since Lakhmesis told her story. She then goes on to explain things, remarkably clearly given the twists and turns in the various viewpoints he's been exposed to over the past few hours. The paladin remark makes him break out in a jovial grin. "Hm, a paladin. That's the first time the comparison's been made but... hm... yeah, I'll take that. Sorry about the lack of shining armor; I tend not to swim in full plate."

She makes her offer, caps it with a threat, and Magnus mulls it over for a few moments. He tilts his head one way, then the other as he weighs options, occasionally shifting on the balls of his feet while glancing down in thought. It's a big decision, all told, and he makes no attempt to hide it. Adopting a kid, that is, and one not even of his species. The food bill will get gi-freaking-normous, that's for sure, and he's not certain Diplomatic Officers, even Senior ones, get paid that much. Well, the uniformed services do offer family assistance stuff and the like. The condition for vengeance against the Farseers doesn't even really faze him. Reasonable enough. I teach the kid what I know, he'll probably be incensed enough to bother if it ends up that way. Make sure he knows enough to not mow down innocents in the process and, well, there you have it. Neither really does the remembrance requirement. I'm gonna have to brush up on my guitar skills, and get the full story to put some lyrics down.

Magnus looks up and nods. "Sounds like a deal. Care instructions and a few tales you'd particularly like remembered--if you want anything more than the sort of broad history I've heard so far--would be helpful but I won't press. I was sorta wondering how I'd feed the kid on my salary..."

Something finally clicks, or more accurately, tinkles as he shifts his bare feet through the coins he's standing on. "Oh. Oh. Oh." He seems to notice the absolutely vast amount of wealth he's standing in. "Well, I guess we have a nice trust fund for the kid right here. Excellent. Never mind then.

"Say, I just got an idea 'bout that 'raw carnivore meat' bit you just said." He snaps his fingers, then puts his lightly balled fist to his lips as he thinks. "I'm sure I can get our friends on the other end to pitch through something appropriate so we can pretty much do both options at once, with of course the variation that I'm not the carnivore meat in question. Heh heh."

* - * - *

The kzintosh flaps his ears like a bat taking off and smiles broadly, if thinly. "That is indeed the spirit of the Hero. You took in all available information, considered the context, and made the brave but difficult decision. Head of the class." Rising up and stretching out, he reaffirms that his weapon is locked and loaded out of habit: there's already a round in the chamber, of course, he just pulls the bolt back enough to check before returning it to the ready. Struck by a moment of humor, he offers his elbow most gentlemanly to the far shorter Sindarin. "Shall we? As they say in the Infantry... on the bounce!"

On cue, he leaps. He resists the traditional urge to scream; jumping through like The Cowardly Lion and Dorothy skipping along the Yellow Brick Road will be disadvantageous enough.

Hrr. Why am I thinking of that? And why do I have to be the Cowardly Lion? It's one of those moments of slow-motion clarity that Speaker has always found interesting, if vaguely annoying.

* - * - *

Hesche spins around towards the sound of thump and jingle-jangle as he watches his boss fall out of n-space and displace quite a few coins from where they've sat for who knows however long... but not too many. Feline grace and all. Feline grace only slightly moderated by the also rather graceful figure in body armor hooked arm-in-arm with the bulky black armorpoly-suited giant.

Magnus mouths one word, rather sibilant at the beginning and ending with a tick of the tongue at the end, that one tick being the only sound that comes out of his mouth. "Hey, guys. Just securing peace in our time with honor. Give me a moment here." Spins back around to the dragon. "Yeah... they're my friends." He thumbs at the two while speaking a bit softly. "Probably came looking for me. Err, Polymarch," he says much more loudly as he steps back to better introduce, "may I present to you Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit of the Federated Segments of Scolopendra and Patriarch of the Kzinti People, and... Princess Aliria of the Sacred Sindarin Empire of Aelosia." He speaks quickly, but other than that, not with any sort of obvious fright or worry. His voice does admit a bit of surprise, especially at the last, but he goes through the motions, polite arm sweeps and all. "Sir, Your Royal Highness, may I present to you Lakhmesis, Polymarch of the Drakes.

"We were just discussing how to appropriately and justly deal with some rather rank injustices of the past to the approval of all parties immediately involved." Still speaking quickly. "I do believe we have secured an agreement that will maintain the security of Your Royal Majesty's people, generations removed from the incidents in question, and that will ensure that the honor and dedication to justice that the Federated Segments prides itself on will be maintained to the utmost, padishah. In the terms of the agreement so determined there need be no violence towards anyone save the Farseers responsible for the heinous act of keeping the Polymarch here for aeons against her will." He looks at the kzintosh and the elf, glances at their guns, and gives them his best 'play along, dammit' look.

It's good to be a diplomat.

For Aliria, to guide the Kzintosh and herself through the Warp wasn't an easy task, or a pleasant experience. The dimension that could be warm, cold, burning and freezing, elastic, malleable and rigid at the same time. The voice inside her head and the disgusting sensation of having cockroaches walking in the back of her head didn't help too. Each time she opened her eyes, visions of a personal hell surrounded her.

Relaxing, the Princess regained her concentration, said pass through the realm of chaos could last minutes, or hours, but any mislead could end with Speaker and herself finding themselves inside the mouth of a long forgotten pagan and evil god.

She knew that the beacon that was guiding her wasn't the dragon, but Hesche, and was amazed to see the potential that the human had encased inside his brain. Was Hesche a psychic too? Was he aware of the inmense power laying inside his mind? The potential wasn't developed, it was dormant, but nevertheless served the purpose of being a fog light for their travel.

Closing herself to the horrors that were all around them, negating her senses to befall into the clutches of the Chaos' gods mannipulations, she sank her mind into the thoughts of Hesche, the human that charmed her friend Aleinna, the man that dared to throw himself into the maws of a dread dragon.

Heroes are not easily tempted, she told to herself, thinking for a moment in the Kzin that was alongside her, and her grip on his forearm turned a bit more gentle. The huge tiger being of the Scolopendran segments had the aura to dispel the fear and doubt that usually got a grip inside her soul and her mind. He was firm without being rude, he was gentle without being bland. Inspired, she decided to increase the speed of their travel, and so she took the final effort that was moving them towards the shining beacon that was Hesche's psyche, fighting off the sounds of millions of crickets in her brain.

With a last breath, everything was over. The visions dissappeared, as went the discomfort and the dizziness. She felt how she landed hard, in something that looked like a floor of cold, tiny metal disks, and wondered if she was still in the Warp.

Yet a voice that was confusing and self confident at the same time flooded her ears, and she felt as the Kzin next to her raised himself and helped her to stand. The figures around her were just big blobs of shadows against the white light, and even then blurry ones. The sickness all over ther digestive tract took a hold, and for a moment she thought she was going to throw up the contents of her stomach. But then the voice said, clearly...

"...In the terms of the agreement so determined there need be no violence towards anyone save the Farseers responsible for the heinous act of keeping the Polymarch here for aeons against her will"

She blinked several times, and spotted, now defined, the figure of Hesche standing right there in front of her, in his hand a chainsword of eldar design, and in his eyes a look of "Say something". Quickly realizing that the Scolopendran magistrate said something she should had listened to, she looked around, first noting the Kzin next to her and then the dragon...

Alas, it was huge, dread and beautiful at the same time. She remembered how, as a little kid, she used to dream of dragons, the mighty reptiles talking to her of how they would come to the Craftworld and rescue her of her prison, of her birdcage, so she could ride them to freedom in a distant paradise. She remembered the gleaming scales, the expanded wingspan, the terrifying but beautiful sight. Half confused for the dangerous trip, half amazed at the drake, who was both the embodiment of a dream and a nightmare at the same time, Aliria didn't managed to react properly as Hesche demanded, just standing there motionless as in a trance.

Lakhmesis, for her part, was more amused at the sudden interrumption of her argument with Hesche than disturbed, or angered. She looked at the elf, and noted she was the little thing that used to dance alone, barely dressed, at midnight above the gardens that contained the entrance to the Warp Gate, although she had grown, of course. She pondered for a moment why always the wench managed to refuse her psychic messages summoning her to rescue the Polymarch from her prison. "Princess", Magnus called her, and suddenly more possibilities sprang inside her mind.

Regarding the other humanoid, well, she wasn't going to start qualifying things, as she was strange enough all by herself, but Weretigers were entirely unknown to her, although she already was warned against the treacherous nature of lycanthropes. Yet, Hesche called him "Supreme Emperor", and treated him with deference. Adding one and one together, she realized that the furry one was Hesche's ruler, fact that also added more and more interest to the negotiation.

Lowering her head in an impressive act of deference, the wyrm continued to play her favourite game, and spoke clearly, using this time a less sweet and more serious tone. "Pleased to meet you both, Princess and Emperor. This is quickly turning into a Royal Meeting. I wish I could receive you more properly according to your status, but sadly I am confined to this room, that is not exactly the most luxurious of places".

Raising her fore paw, she placed the meters long nail in Hesche's chest, poking him slowly and without harming him. "Sir Paladin here and I were...negotiating, and I was almost going to accept his counteroffer as he accepted mine before your arrival. Things have changed, although. We can open now a more formal round of negotiation between the Nation of Drakes, of which I am the last representative, and the Aelosian...country, with the Federate Segments of Scolopendra as a mediator. Do the involved parties agree?".

Hesche looks at Speaker with the same diplomatically swave face he maintains when he's on his game, but with a slight hint of tiredness in his eyes. The kzintosh looks back at his subordinate with innate regal firmness, but his shoulders move slightly. Could be a shrug, could just be working out a kink. Either way, Magnus takes his cue and chuckles. "Or not," he says in an epilogue to his attempt to summarize the situation quickly. "On points of national representation I will of course defer to my padishah."

Speaker-Rrit holsters his weapon and steps forward, looking up at the dragon. He's met dragons before, albeit perhaps not any this large, and he'll be damned to an afterlife of being eternal prey for the One Fanged God's hunt before he shows any sign of fear. In fact, right now, he seems preternaturally calm. One could say he's in his element. "The Segments are always willing to mediate between parties in the interests of peace and the common good. Officer Hesche has hopefully represented us well in this regard." He glances over at the human who then smiles breezily, shrugs, and trots over to the traditional adjutant's post just to the left of and half a step behind the kzintosh.

"I suppose," the 'tosh says more quietly, turning to Aliria, "that the lesson plan has turned from Heroism to diplomacy. Luckily, the two concepts are not necessarily divorced from each other."

"Didn't know that paladins defer to Rakhasas", said the Dragon, quickly changing her features as the Kzin advanced towards her. "I see now, Fiend, you managed to deceive the elves, and now come to me in your natural guise. I can see you through your custome. You cannot mislead me". It was easy to see that suddenly the axis of the situation rotated again, changing the circumstances entirely. The tone of the wyrm suddenly changed into something more...challenging, and less friendly with each word.

Aliria suddenly reacted, snapping after being almost hypnotized admiring the form of the dragon. Barely able to contain a yelp, she leaped back, backing just next to Hesche, as if suddenly something broke the spell of awe she was in.

The natural eye of the Polymarch gleamed with a red glow, and its maw twisted into a despective grin. "What now?, Padisha?, Is that your true name or the one that you forced upon your puppets?"

Aliria covered behind Hesche, the frame of the scolopendran man more than able to hide her lithe and short body. Pointing towards Lakhmesis, from behind Magnus, she said to Speaker. "I'm not sure, I'm not getting a good vibe from there"

Speaker represses two things--a sigh and a grin. Instead of displaying either, he impassively stands his ground. A rakshasa is a sort of Hindu demon, he remembers, although Hesche would naturally know more about it given his side job as fractality warrior extraordinaire. "No, I am a kzin." Just a simple statement, spoken with the force of fact. "'Padishah' is a title. It is Turkish for 'king of kings.'"

"We only use it because it's a lot shorter than 'Supreme Emperor,'" Hesche adds quickly in a point-of-note fashion. This was not exactly what he was hoping for. "I don't know if this helps, but I can vouch for the old ratcat here. He looks like this every day and has the mystical properties of your average loaf of bread. Look at him closely and you'll see he's a mundane. A muggle. What have you." He takes another look at his boss and ponders. "I could see how you'd make that connection, though. No, in this case it's unfortunate coincidence."

The 'tosh pauses for a moment, folding his hands in front of him as he ignores the urge to bottle out his fur. "I have nothing to say except the truth. I am no demon; Princess Aliria and I only came here out of concern for our friend Magnus here. My main goals, at least, are to see that my subordinate keeps himself out of trouble and that no one gets hurt." Each word spoken with true faith, unshakable conviction of the truth being the only supporting argument. Dissembly and last-minute fast-talked defenses are not the way of the Hero; no, the way of the Hero is do or die.

Hesche, meanwhile, has no problem in his current role as meatshield; he doesn't tighten his grip on the sword in his left hand nor rests his right hand on his gun; instead, he simply relaxes. After his own suave, debonair, and perhaps slightly ironic explanations, he cools himself into his usual heroic smirk. Being loose lets one react more smoothly, after all, and reaction may be key to whatever happens next.

"Another paladin, then. This time an Emperor of Paladins!", exclamed the dragon, visibly amused. "No doubt, no fear. The way of the old Dragonslayers, using their maiden's hankerchiefs over their helmets. But this time they have no helmets, no armor, and haven't come to claim the prize".

The huge wyrm rotated, her movements making the piles of coins to tremble and shift over the ground. Finally it started to dug amongst the discarded wealth and the heaps of trash, finally finding what was looking for. Rotating its enormous body again, it faced the Kzin who stood there with folded arms.

"So tell me, Emperor", the reptile added, using her hapy, seducing tramp tone again. "Your objetive of getting noone hurt...Includes me?", said the dragon closing her prostethic eye. "Regarding Magnus, my dear Magnus. I wouldn't harm him, not even with a feather".

"'No one' means 'no one' and you count as one," Speaker says with a flick of his ears and a flick of his tail. "I am a Hero by birth and a diplomat by trade; I say what I mean and I mean what I say." He stays at high alert--it never hurts to be vigilant--but he stands his ground. "For that reason I am still willing to act as a facilitator in any further negotiation."

Magnus tries to peek around to see what the dragon's got a hold of, but manages to make it look like curiosity more than some sort of concern. That's not so hard, given that he is honestly curious about it, and it mixes with bodyguardly concern in more or less equal measure.

"Well, it is not like I care if you harm me or not, but there is something that I would like to give to those two that stand behind you. And I was close to reaching an agreement with Magnus when you, Emperor, arrived alongside the said Princess of the former slaves, who still has to say her own words over this matter", said the Polymarch, her tone growing softer and softer with each word.

"This, Padishah", added Lakhmesis staring with open wide eyes at the Kzin, "is my only treasure, and the only thing I care for". The dragon stared at Hesche, who could finally find what was the Drake hidden in her massive claw. "If you promise to not harm them, you can do whatever you want with me".

A pair of massive eggs, the size of a man's leg, were laying in the open paw of the reptile. The shell was of a slight greenish silver, and they looked more like a pair of oval pieces of metal than truly a pair of eggs.

"I want someone to care for them, and I want them to be raised as the heroes, protectors, and sages, they should be. Leaving them here with me would be to condemn them to a eternal prison. I hope someone who claims to be a hero by birth understands what I mean. Great fates are not supposed to be denied", the dragon added, depositing both eggs in front of Speaker, a tone of sorrow and grief in her voice able to give the trembles to a squad of the most hardened mercenaries.

The kzintosh looks down at Magnus with the same firm yet unreadable expression. Magnus looks back up, arches his eyebrows, jukes his head towards the pair of eggs, and nods once. "Well, that's about where we were when you showed up, sir."

Rrit had figured as much, but how's a proper 'tosh to deny that particular pitch? Not only that, but as the head of the nation of do-gooder idealists, his options are decidedly limited... as if that were a problem. "I promise they will not come to harm. I also confirm the promises Officer Hesche made in my stead before my arrival, as I trust him in his diplomatic office. I promise to ensure that they are raised to meet their heroic"--no capitalization--"Destiny." Capitalized.

Hesche knows that Speaker doesn't mention 'destiny' very much, the concept not being all too popular in the Segments; Scolopendrans tend to put much creedence into the concepts of personal responsibility and self-determination and things like fate and destiny conflict with those. Still, capitalized Destiny is a kzinti cultural trait and the human can tell his superior is speaking half as Supreme Emperor and half as Patriarch of the Kzinti People. He only does that when honor is involved, and is the best way to know he means it.

Aliria took a step forward, finally overcoming her surprise and terror, her hands still trembling a little as she spoke with the most confident tone of voice that she managed to gather. "Polymarch of Drakes, I promise that as payment for our inactivity and ignorance of your situation, that whatever my country can do to fix what happened, it will be done. I take full responsability of our lack of action, and I make an oath to you of tell your descendants of your greatness".

The Drake raised a spiky eyebrow over her natural remaining eye, and nodded softly. "Then it's settled. I'll give one of my children to be fostered by the Nation of the Scolopendran Paladins, rightfully ruled by the Padishah, so she could learn a proper code of conduct and learn what she will need to fight against injustice along the universe, with fair and handsome Magnus Hesche as her personal tutor, to whom she will swear eternal loyalty. She will be the Questing Drake", the huge fabled reptile winked at Magnus as she pronounced the words. "And the other to the Princess, so he could know the place where his mother was raised, and protect people that really need protection and guidance, the same protection and guidance that once the eldar refused by their vile actions. He will be the Sentinel Drake".

A long, inmense tear started to form over the creature's natural eye, but quickly turned and with a rumbling, deep voice finally commanded, leaving both eggs in front of the trio. "Take them to a safe place. the rest of the treasure gathered in this place is yours. Perhaps you'll find more than one thing useful. Now I want to enter the eternal slumber that has been waiting me for centuries. That means that with these words I say good bye, saviors. Sorry for summoning you all here without asking you first, but it was needed, as you might realise now".

With those words, the dragon slowly laid down to the ground, resting its huge mass over the coin covered floor, and closing her eyes, with a tired sigh.

Magnus and Speaker draw up and salute--the first with his borrowed sword, the other at attention, furred fingertips to furred brow--then lower their salutes as snappily as they offered them. "You have our word, Polymarch of Drakes." Speaker rumbles, his voice having an odd, somewhat stentorian, intonation to it. "Oks irgeeth jeehaz ksuwraa tsica, Lakhmesis."

They watch the dragon die, silently, then for a long while look around with nothing to say. Magnus sighs, shoulders his ancient borrowed weapon, and picks up two gold coins out of the piles under their feet. Being careful not to jingle them, he steps over carefully, respectfully, and stretches up to balance them on the natural eyelid of the passed drake before stepping back. Turning around again, he pads back to the group, lucre jingling underfoot. "Fare for the ferryman--old family tradition." He looks up at the 'tosh, then down at the elf, and sighs. "That's that, then. We've got some young'n's to take care of; we gave our word so we'd best make that our first priority."

Speaker nods.

Aliria took a pair of steps forward, placing a hand over the lower part of the nostrils of the finally resting drake, and then whispering a single and simple prayer in sindarin to the forever sleeping corpse.

She then turned, and watched both Hesche and the Speaker, with her cheeks red and her eyes wet. she spoke in a low, soft tone "Well, I think that's all around here, taking into account that we don't have a gate to go back to where we came. A story finished, I would say, and a story where I owe you to the both of you a lot, specially to Monsieur Hesche".

Right after Aliria finished to speak, even before any of the Scolopendran delegates could answer, a disk of blue light appeared from nowhere no more than ten steps behind the sindar princess, making absolutely no noise...

First a soldier, clad in the armour of a wraithspider exarch came out of the gate, causing the air around the hall to fill with static electricity and a strange odor. Soon three more, dressed in similar full body suits, but without the ornamentation due to rank, passed through the gate, and checked with their weapons the surroundings, some electrical sounds coming out of their sealed helmets.

Hesche nods, then looks down at the tattered remnants of his PT uniform, complete with skin-deep scratches underneath. He makes a few half-hearted attempts to stop baring quite so much bronzed skin, then shrugs internally before bowing politely. "It's been my honor, Your Highness. I am only glad that our adventure came to a happy conclusion."

He glances back at the dead dragon. "Well, as happy a conclusion as could be hoped. Let's head home."

Speaker also bows politely, but says nothing. What he's had to say, he's already said. Still, it would've been nice to have some of those teleporting things from the word go... Rrrr. He sniffs lightly and rubs his nose momentarily. It is nothing. We have done what we needed to and songs will be sung. All is well.

"You are not going anywhere", said a rather commanding, and yet femenine and delicate voice. From the portal several more figures appeared, mainly three more warriors clad in the full sealed purple armor suits of the Everqueen's personal bodyguards, with them a short figure in black, followed by others in white with red symbols displaying their status as medical personnel.

The figure in black was no ther than the Marquise of Cúthalion, sporting a rather...mischievous smile on her lips. As the spider troopers checked the inmense dragon corpse filling part of the hall, and the bodyguards the status of their beloved princess, the aelosian noble headed directly towards the Scolopendran delegates.

With a careful bow, she made her salute to the foreigners, not before winking in the most elegant way towards Hesche. After straightening, she spoke, in a half-angered, half-amused tone. "With your permission, Speaker, sire. You weren't supposed to run into trouble, Míster Hesche, yet you managed to hit the beehive with a stick", she said as one of the medical staff made a gesture towards the human. "Yet my medics ask if they can touch you to tend your wounds, that in my opinion, and according to your attitude, seem to be just scratchs. After all, I have always said that handsome males look better with scars, but it's your call"

Speaker chuckles with a few soft whiffs of breath through his flat felinid nostrils and steps aside, letting everything that's coming to Hesche... well... come to him.

"Well, I hate to say it but hitting beehives with sticks is what I seem to always end up doing," Hesche says with an unconquerable grinning smirk, looking not at all contrite in the wake of his heroism. "Especially when the beehives tend to be lingering, lurking, and horribly misunderstood horrors. I figure someone had to do it sometime, so..." He shrugs, then looks down at the scratches that have already scabbed over. "Medically, they're less than flesh wounds so if you've any iodine or hydrogen peroxide that should work just fine in cleaning 'em up. They're kitten scratches; I don't even think they'll scar, really.

"What I think I could really use is a shower and a change of clothes. Sure, I hit the beehive but I also have to represent the Segments, and I'm sure the padishah here would agree that doing it in tattered PTs wouldn't do much for my career prospects." Yet another boylike grin. "Hopefully there hasn't been too much trouble topside? No fire, flood, earthquake... er... structural failure, other generic disaster?"

"I think I have a broken lamp in my quarters, if that is a generic disaster, and if you are willing to fix it. If you do it, I promise you to give what you asked for. Even more, I promise to apply the iodine myself, or something even more suitable to the size of your wounds, also give you company in the shower, select your change of clothes, and give you a proper definition of what a kitten scratch is", said Aleinna, smiling to Spaker as to asking permission to take Hesche with her. "Will you come along?", she then suddenly asked Hesche.

"Wait a moment", said the voice of Princess Aliria in the background. "Two questions. First, Monsieur Hesche, are you going to take the little one with you?, or should I take care of it until further notice?...And second, do you want us to transport the entire contents of this room, rightfully belonging to you, to your ship, or just to leave it here?"

Lesser men, or at least men with less certainty in who exactly they are, what they do, and why they do it may pause or blush or perhaps grin winningly in a smug way to buy themselves some time. Hesche's reaction is more towards the latter, but he somehow pulls it off with his usual debonair charm--some slight sense of self-parody in the smugness, maybe something in the eyes. "Well, I'm an electrician among other things, ma'am, and can do wonders with a bit of superglue, so I would be honored to accept the challenge." Speaker, on a similar bent, simply makes an open-palmed 'as you wish' gesture to Aleinna and a flick of his ears. He could ask what she sees in this tall drink of charged water, but clearly her mind is made up concerning various things and, well, no harm should come out of it. Probably.

Okay, so this is new ground, sort of. Magnus had gotten used to being brushed off, as the getting was never actually the point... but hey, no complaints. Just another challenge... Oh, that's right, the challenge I had in mind before going on a wild adventure. Silly me, forgetting something like that.

Aliria's pertinent questions don't bring him up short so much as force him to stop and think for a moment. He'd given his word, after all, and he'd meant it whole-heartedly so a bit of prioritizing is in order. The thought of trying to argue a fifty-fifty split with the Princess concerning the truly massive amounts of wealth surrounding him crosses his mind out of pure fairness; but, in all actuality, she's the one who offered and she does have an entire nation to fall back on, as opposed to a Diplomatic Officer's salary. What with a new kid and everything... "The little one will be safe in my room. It's an egg, so as long as we cover it in a blanket and set the thermostat to the right temperature, it should be alright. Wealth is the means to an end and all this stuff doesn't really... well... do anything for anyone if it's left here. There may be artifacts of social importance to your people so don't give it all away to me without a second thought, but whatever you're willing to part with should go on Kabutomushi. Thank you for your generosity, Your Highness."

As Hesche spoke, one of the guards wasn't able to restraint himself, and muttered almost to himself, although high enough for Speaker to hear. "And moving all this stuff through portals is going to take weeks, and is going to give us the sharpest pain in the...neck. A new kiddo gets rich, I should add, and we get to dispose of a corpse the size of several whales".

As Speaker was led by the Princess Aliria herself through one of the Warp Spider's portable portals, that gave him just a slight dizzyness after coming through, Aleinna remained over the absurd amount of wealth with Hesche.

Soon the guards and the medics started to withdraw too, following the orders issued by the Cúthalion Marquise in simple gestures.

About Speaker, he found himself just next to the fountain he was led into in the first place, surrounded by an absurd amount of force represented by hundred of elven warriors and security personnel. He soon was taken into the palace, so he could be comfortable in his own assigned, luxurious, quarters.

And about Hesche, well, he was standing with Aleinna in the dragon chamber.
"Superglue, eh? In another note, the size of the treasure you have just earned will let you become a small monarch, Magnus Hesche. We're not going to charge you taxes, although perhaps the Segments will. And if you are interested, I'm sure several people will be able to sell you a little feud in Mars or Duat, even me would be interested in making a business deal", said the elf with a smirk.

Extracting from her pocket and then dropping a little orb in the floor a few steps away from the pair, that expanded into a portable blue portal (remember the portals in Diablo II?), the Marquise gestured towards the gate with a wink. "Shall we?"

Speaker bites his tongue upon hearing the commentary, as it's completely unfair to the dead drake. Still, trying to rectify the slight--generally unintentional, and related solely to the effort involved as is universal amongst the infantry in any nation--would require more of a scene than required. Perhaps, he thinks, there should be some sort of documentary done to raise awareness. They owe her more than they know.

He continues these thoughts as he's ushered about by a veritable small army, first Aelosian and then Scolopendran as well as a platoon of Infantrymen from Kabutomushi aid in the physical security of their elected executive. Outwardly, he remains impeccably polite, even as a Mobile Infantry lieutenant bearing an Intelligence orange stripe on his fatigues respectfully berates him on his cavalier conduct, but inwardly he continues turning this 'get the word out' idea in his head. His sense of justice demands it, really.

'Luxurious' by Aelosian standards means 'absolutely palatial' by 'Pendran standards. Dismissing all the guards and infantry and hired guns--but only after ordering the Military Intelligence lieutenant to leave the bag-running Infantryman alone--the 'tosh doffs the thinsuit, fluffs out his slightly matted fur, and works out the worse spots with a brush. Once all this is done, he yawns once, curls up on a rug, and falls asleep.

* - * - *

Hesche, on the other hand, ponders the thought of becoming a minor noble in a land of Sindarin. There'd be at least a small amount of institutional racism, probably, but he could count on the political support of at least one...

He puts those thoughts away with a inwards shake of his head. The Marquesse is a person, not a social tool. You're vaguely Nietzschean, Magnus, not Machiavellian. "Hmmm. Tempting thought, being a nouveau aristocrat... I'll have to sleep on it." He winks. Teasingly, of course.

Now this is more my speed. "I do think we shall. Lead the way, my Lady."

Aleinna grabs Hesche by the arm, and place her own crinsom regal cloak over his shoulders, as to cover him further. "We decided earlier to have a cold afternoon here, Monsieur Hesche, so it is better for you to use this one".

The elf woman guides him to a nearby holopad, that was simply a parking lot for grav cars. The vehicle she seemed to own was, to put it in a few words, strange and outlandish, even for aelosian standards. As it hovered slightly above the ground, it opened its compartments after Aleinna pushed a little button on the shoulder pad of her armor. The car itself looked like a mixture of ancient human designs of sport cars, gravitic eldar vehicles, with a touch of elven delicacy. As a side note, most of her own noble peers, given their excellent aesthetic taste, labeled the vehicle as "The most awful and horrible thing to fly the skies of the Craftworld since giant slime bats got extinct", but as the epiphet was too long, it was simply labeled as "Mos Tugly", as a reference to its mixed heritage of human and aelosian technology.

"This is it", she mumbled. "Not the most fantastic ride, but at least it is original, designed by myself. It will takes us to my place, that it isn't the most fabulous place in this place, but it's ok for me", she added, gesturing to Magnus to go inside the vehicle. "Not bad, don't you think?".

Hesche is somewhat surprised at the offer... well, 'offer' suggests the option of acceptance... the allocation of the cloak to him but, after being soaked, chilled, and otherwise wearing far too little he's not going to complain. Stoically making do in silence is only worthwhile when there's nothing else to be done; as it is, he appreciates the gesture. He doesn't follow along meekly, despite Aleinna certainly desiring control of the situation via the grabbing of his arm, but he does follow along nonetheless. "Thank you, ma'am. It's most appreciated."

As for the floatycar, he thinks it has a sort of charm. It tries to do too many things at once, perhaps, what with the Corvette lines somehow turning Mustang around the front and Lamborghini towards the rear and with the usual Elven preponderance towards complex curves and foofaraw fins, but it wasn't quite ugly. The closest he'd admit would be "rococo," but even then it would be fair given its sleekness. "Original it is, ma'am, and as my mother used to say, sometimes it's the home-made things that are best." He smiles a bit at the quiet joke. "You should see mine back home. Duct tape and anti-rust primer. I'll fix it up someday, eventually, assuming I find the time."

At the female's urging he enters the car and looks around. At least headspace isn't much an issue. "I've been thinking I should invest in a rocketship... err... personal shuttle." He smirks with just a hint of self-deprecating humor. "Okay, rocketship. I've always had a fondness for old-school design and, well, I think a properly Buck Rogers rocketship would suit me. What do you think?"

Aleinna took the driver's seat, right next to Hesche, closed the car's doors, and then suddenly turned, and looked directly at Hesche's eyes, with her own wide opened. "I can't believe it. You said Rocketship!", and her own mind pondered Magnus' words for a moment before continuing.

Given the normal ability of elves for pondering, and given the fact that they had a lot of time for such mental exercise, moments of thought for them were usually larger than of their human counterparts, and that usually generated a certain kind of eerie silences during conversations.

And that explained that Aleinna's pondering lasted almost ten seconds, her face entirely frozen in her expression of surprise.

And then suddenly she sprang to life again, clasping her palms together enthusiastically, speaking in a rather loud tone, gesturing widly as she spoke "Rocketships!, I love rocketships, all that BAM!, and flying to the sky, and then PUM!, and BANG!, and looking heroic standing at the bridge with a floating cloak behind you, floating for no reason, as you race through mysterious and unknown planets, to spread your glory and commit daring and brave deeds!"

And to understand what was happening, perhaps Hesche needed a background check he didn't have. For the public, Aleinna was the Marquise of the House of Cúthalion, one of the ten most influential leaders of an empire containing billions of elven souls. For the public, she was in nominal charge of every library, every research, every school, every university and every hall of learning of a vast population. For the public, she was labeled as one of the most enlightened minds of the sindar people, a reputed scholar, a prodigy and a genius, able to recall thousands of texts from memory. For the public, she was the symbol of the sindarin knowledge, having proved several times to be able to beat even the oldest sages of her kind. Being young for her people's standards, she was known as capable in neverending fields of expertise, as an historian, geographer, scientist, economist, political leader, military strategist and artist.

As such, she was expected to display a rather serious attitude when dealing with others. When you manage affairs and issues that can affect millions in a direct and radical way every day, you are supposed to look worried, grim and busy all the time. Plus, the aelosian social etiquette demanded to not indulge in emotional responses in public, specially when you are a leader, of noble blood, and a set example for millions of elven kids watching every movement you do in the outside.

Yet her private life was entirely another issue. Of course, only the higher echelons of the aelosian society and her closest friends were aware of her rather erratic tastes and eccentric way of life, as she, as most aelosian nobles, ran a double life beneath her public, official stance.

If she would be living on a human culture, she would had been labeled as a geek, or a freak. Her constant studies about different societies left her with a melting pot of preferences, and she usually collected the most rare of outfits, artifacts, and objects representative of thousands of manifestations of different folklores. Having talent as a writer, she had "wasted" it, in the opinion of the most reputed critics of the Craftworld, in fantasy novels and stories about heroes racing through the unexplored outer space, fighting as glamorous corsairs, giving witty retorts and working for the greater good.

Some of the nobles were ashamed of her behaviour and fashion, others found it funny, and others just tolerated it based on her valuable talent for anything else. To add that such responsabilities and duties as hers, taken at such a young age, messed up a bit with her emotional development, forcing her to behave, when out of the public look, as a rather enthusiatic, or freaky, teenager. Her rather suspicious tendency to get attracted to members of the opposite gender of alien and different races didn't help with the matter.

To expose it in a shorter way, she was a bit crazy, specially about rocketships.

Turning on the car, just pushing another button, she pressed the dwarven rune of acceleration that appeared in the control holoscreen of the car (just over the oversized manual wheel), and the gravitic engine, that in normal models was entirely silent, roared as a twenty century 18-wheel truck. Of course, her rather maniac enthusiasm made her to miss the change of the vertical controller that was supposed to propel the car up, and not down, as was set, meanwhile she was talking in a rather fast way "I can't believe your idea. I totally love rocketships, they're awesome, I mean, YOU in a rocketship!, I have always wanted to own a rocketship, but I lack certain components not easily found on this age of gravitic engines and warp propellants, I thought that maybe Ork technology could give me the edge I needed for..."

Then out of sudden, the "nose" of the car crashed against the holopad, giving both occupants a rather violent bump, and interrumpted the rambling of the Marquise, but luckily it didn't damaged it to the point of stopping it from function.

The female elf didn't look at all surprised. "Sorry about that, it happens all the time. I think I'll need a lesson about that duct tape of yours...", she added as she rectified the vertical control to "up", and with another roar, the car took off towards the ceiling of the dome, at a rather high and almost unpleasant speed.

Magnus simply smiles with serene sincerity as Aleinna stares at him. He would be really good at poker, one would think, or anything else where he has to bluff; either that, or he has absolutely nothing to retract from his previous statement. When she reacts in disbelief at the word 'rocketship,' he replies with a chuckle so self-assured as to almost, but not quite, border on smug--the sense of humor behind it keeps it from being offensive--and he admits to it. "Yes, I did indeed say rocketship, ma'am."

Another pause, broken completely by the elf's manic and accurate analysis on just how cool rocketships are. Hesche looks surprised for a moment, then grins. "Long capes, eh? I've always been more of a leather aviator's helmet sort of guy, with a scarf, but I could see the appeal of capes. Aside from that, that pretty much hits the nail on the head. For a Neanderthal like me," one always has to throw in a bit of self-deprecating humor when dealing with the long-lived pointies, "noise good and fire pretty. Thus, a rocketship. Anyway, if I really am as absurdly rich as everyone is saying I am now, besides the part that goes to charity for the orphans I may as well invest in a decent rocketship. I've always wanted one, and it'll help with all that exploration-of-space bit."

He doesn't know that, given the cultural standard, the Marquise is considered something of a mild social outcast. To him, she's a character, and characters are fun to be around, and thus this is inevitably a good thing. People with weird little habits and drives and all the other things that make them different and thus challenging (in a good way) suit him just fine. Honestly, he prefers people that way. Even if he does nearly get whiplash from the age-old problem of having the car in the wrong gear when the driver pushes down the accelerator.

"Eh, it's nothing a little bit of body repair putty won't fix. Besides--" And then he's flattened back against the seat, going at speeds classified as unhealthy towards the top of a pressure dome.

He's laughing. The bitch is crazy and could kill him. This is, quite honestly, great.

Aleinna laughs too, after all, she is usually more comfortable in the company of foreigners, because she can display and behave more in the way she actually is, and not in the way she usually looks to be. Hesche, in specific, was a special case.

He was funny, altruistic, and adventurous, three of the qualities Aleinna respected and valued the most. He also lacked stereotypes, and avoided their use, another quality the Marquise avoided entirely.

She raced fast towards the ceiling of the dome, so Magnus could realize it was a holographic screen that resembled a lightly clouded sky, and finally entered the tunnel exactly at the top of the dome. As the car entered, the magnetic contacts fixed the car into a stable position, and the vehicle entered autopilot as it raced through the tunnel.

Dropping the manual wheel, she leaned on the seat, that shifted and changed form to adapt for her change of stance. "So...what's your next destination, Cap'n", Aleinna said as she placed her elbow of the seat and rested her head over it.

Magnus likewise leans back, rather glad that the dome was a holographic projection and not, like it would be underground on Titan, a smegging huge concrete wall that happens to have clouds projected onto it. That would have resulted in a rather anticlimactic ending, no matter how much fire it would've produced. So the car has turned itself into a shafted transport car. Fair enough. "So I'm the captain now, my Lady? Well, I don't know where my next destination is, if you mean beyond this assignment here--that's half the fun of it. So far the needs of the service have kept me busy and full of adventure. Mars seems to be a pretty happening place, so I should probably start poking around there now and again. I'm sure eventually things there will turn up needing my various skillsets.

"After all, superglue binds everything together. That's what makes it 'super.'" He grins at his intentionally stupid joke. "As for 'next destination' here... well, ma'am, I think you made it very clear on the ground down there that you were taking command of the situation. I still need that iodine for these scratches, after all." Hesche looks down at his tattered shirt, which he's only really left on because it does accentuate his frame through the usual 'titillation by selective hiding' theory better than going about half-naked would, and chuckles. "'Tis but a flesh wound," he continues with a fake accent.

Sure, they sting a little. But little scratchy cuts always do.

"That is what you get for playing with aelosian kitties", said the Marquise, placing her fingers with a rather natural grace just above one of the scratches in Hesche's body, thinking about what approach could be better to deal with the situation at hand inside her. After all, Aleinna's blood have been boiling for some time. After just a second or so, she took the most brash and hurried decision in her entire emotional existence.

She decided to take the most direct approach to the situation, after all, the stakes in the game were fairly low, but she could win a rather large pot, and didn't have the need to be too careful alongside a man as Hesche. It could be that, or it could be that her hormones provoked a rather illthought emotional response not appropiate to such a rational being as Aleinna.

"I can either bring you to a hospital, although I have heard that the best way to deal with cat scratches is by having someone else lick them", she said, staring directly at Hesche's eyes with her intent and desires clearly open for the eyes of any town fool, let alone an experienced ladies' man, psychic and diplomat as Hesche.

"Your choice?", she added quickly, before she had a chance to withdraw her proposal.

Of course, the intensity of the moment, at least for Aleinna, was at the same time augmented, in a sense, and diminished, in another sense, when the car reached the end of the tunnel, and dropped rather widly towards the ground as it exit in another dome.

Aleinna didn't seem to be so surprised as the car fell towards a likely certain doom in the green ground seen from the windshield screen, that was approaching fast. "Oh, I didn't turn the auto alarm supposed to let me know when the autopilot is going to be deactivated. I got distracted. How silly of me, don't you think?, damn manual controls", she said, as she turned to the driving board for the right button to press.

The Marquesse's rather risque recommendation results, with perhaps perfectly plausible predictability, in a slightly slier smirk on Magnus' behalf. It's not as if she hasn't already been rather blatant in what was on her mind, and in front of company even. That sort of thing adds additional constraints, normally, a crowd to act for from behind a social facade. 'Normally' being the operative word here; Hesche is neither normal nor particularly one for unconscious false fronts. He's very much a what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of guy; sure, it seems shallow at times but it's a lot easier than dealing with the tangled webs and alienation usually associated with staying a 'safe' distance from one's environs. Given his idiom, and his dedication towards naturally tending towards it in everything he does, that he takes the entire situation with a sort of easy nonchalance shouldn't surprise in the slightest.

"Someone else, hm?" He chuckles softly, smiles easily, and makes eye contact with those blue eyes of his, the ones with the wry sense of humor behind the smug self-assurance. "Well, I haven't heard that particular home remedy before... but the only way to find out if it works is to give it a try, right?"

And, once again, he's in mortal peril, loving it just as much (but certainly not more) as more libidinous challenges, and equally at ease. Odd how that works with him. "Ah well, it happens to the best of us. As far as personality flaws go, occasionally being silly is a pretty minor one." Winking, he idly glances out the window as if the ground below were merely a passing curiosity rather than a rather large, massive thing full of inertia that would end up being the victor should he and his current ride get in a momentum pissing match with it.

The grav ride recovers rather quickly, although the pull of the forces involved was able to mess with the standard guts of any humanoid of standard size. Not Aleinna's, although, as she rather clumsily drove the car towards a marble structure located over a hilltop nearby.

"Nice grass, don't you think?", said the Marquise as the plane-car raced over the artificial landscape. "It's stadium grass, specially brought to this place".

Seconds afterwards, following the landing of the grav car in a landing pad marked with a large "X" painted red, Hesche could see a construction pretty similar to a greek square temple, in fact too similar to the Athens Parthenon.

Aleinna quickly jumped out of the vehicle, not after directing Magnus a stare full of intent. "Welcome to the main Cúthalion Hall of Learning. My house, for short. If you come inside, you would find the scientific advances my House has brought to international medicine, specially in the fields of licking wounds", she said, not without a mischievous tone to her voice.

(OOC: Sorry for the delay; I've been lazy in checking the boards.)

"Stadium grass. Huh."

Magnus' first thought was that perhaps the grass was that extruded plastic resin stuff... whatsitcalled... stellarsod or something. Some people have trouble with names; Hesche, as you may have noticed, is not really good with the names of things he's not particularly familiar with. Anyway, some homeowners, those who have something against mild labor and living things in general, used that for their lawns, he knew, but its more common habitats were various kinds of sport fields. Usually on spaceships, because real grass was more trouble than it was worth for just a bit of footie (morale demanded that any ship with the spare volume have a pitch, usually justified as an "emergency cargo hold").

"It's quite nice." He means it more when he sees that, yes, it is actually grass. Just very green, lush, and springy grass. He knows something about botany, but not enough to identify grasses at a glance. Specially brought. Of course it's natural. You don't "specially bring" plastiplants anywhere.

He likes the landing pad; it's very... classical. And so is, apparently, the Marquesse's lodging, except more so. Hellenistic classicism next to a very retro landing pad in a giant ship full of Sindarin elves inherited from Eldar space elves. Curiouser and curiouser! Magnus exclaimed to himself inside his own mind, and idly wondered when it was that he fell down the rabbit hole. His memory respectfully reminds him that not half an hour ago he'd watched a Greater Ancient Dragon peacefully nod off to death and not too long previous to that he'd started hearing voices in his head, which would probably be a good time to place the rabbit hole analogy. With the past being past and the now being now, Magnus thanks his memory for its services and follows Aleinna with his usual debonair grin. She flirts, he flirts. "While not as well versed in medicine and the healing arts as I would like to be,"--perfectly true; he was a psihealer, not a doctor--"I'm always interested in learning new things, and a Hall of Learning would certainly attend to that interest."

The word 'suave' usually doesn't apply to people in physical training shorts and a tattered shirt, but Magnus manages it through sheer force of personal nature.

Aleinna guided Hesche through the large entrance of the building, where both old professors and young students were coming in and out all the time, some of them bowing as the Marquise walked nearby, although she didn't pay any heed to the formal salutes. Given the fixation of the aelosians to protocol, her attitude was more than just strange, and could be labeled as rude by her peers, although given her superior rank, she really had the prerrogative to drop all formalities if she wished so.

However, the shock of watching a half naked human walking inside the campus was more attractive to most of the public than just the lack of courtesy of the Supreme Scholar. Some black robed teachers tried to not notice the anomaly, or just shown expression of disgust and dissaproval, while both male and female youngs carrying their books, holoscrolls and computers, giggled at the sight of Magnus Hesche walking with his clothes tattered. The curiosity prevailed over any other emotion, and a wave of hushed rumours started to spread as the elf guided Magnus through the elven university. Yet, this one was just another of the eccentric episodes protagonized by the Marquise, and although it was colorful, it wasn't exactly extraordinary. After all, she entered the campus atop a camel three weeks ago.

"Over there, the rector's quarters, my home. I decided to live like my predeccessors, amongst the activity of the university. I hope you don't mind the crowd", said Aleinna, taking Hesche's hand through a large atrium, towards the end of the hall.

Magnus has never been particularly known for his sense of shame. Indeed, he is rather well known for his sense of shamelessness, and this says something when a great number of people his background culture happily walks about in their birthday suits as if it were the most normal and chaste thing in the world. It's just skin; everyone has it, and as long as you do your part for public hygiene with the occasional loincloth or whatever no one cares. Therefore, Hesche looks like he's in his element as much as ever, occasionally smiling and waving to the occasional person who stares a bit over-long, and being his usual humorous self. Proud and tall he may stand, without the slightest bit of shame, but he can easily see the humor in the situation and lets it show in easygoing smirks, the light in his eyes, and even the occasional wink.

Flirting, to him, comes as naturally as breathing does to most people and most of the time he doesn't even realize he does it. Out of a sense of self-preservation instilled into successful human males through three million years of sexual evolution, though, he doesn't do it where Aleinna would notice. She doesn't necessarily seem the jealous type, but when it comes to the subconscious mind such estimations really don't enter into the equation.

"The more, the merrier," he says with a grin in response to the Marquise's half-apology concerning, well, parading her trophy through a university of studying Sindarin to her boudoir. "I've never really been ochlophobic or particularly shy, after all. Besides, it sounds like a useful tradition--I'm sure being centrally located is both a boon and a bane to your students, depending on how highly regarded they are."