NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This thread is only for the people who signed up here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6783022#post6783022). If you didn't sign up, don't bother posting.

IC:

The city of Tuminisk had become a hive of activity in the last month. Trucks rolled in and out of the city, delivering materials to the Chateau de LaGord. The looming castle sat at the top of Mount Tuminisk, overlooking the city itself.

Why was so much going in at the castle? Because it was to be the residence of the biggest international party Dregruk had ever thrown, privately funded by the richest man in the country. It also happened to be his family home.

The party was mainly for Dregruk to open its arms to the international community, at long last ending its policy of isolation. The aim was to have renewed discussions of trade, alliances and friendliness towards the Dominion.

Representing Dregruk was Minister Yuriy Nusz, a man who had spent the best part of his life campaigning for the reopening of Dregruk to the international community.

The interior of the Chateau was kept largely the same, to retain the classic architecture for the visitors to see. However, the massive dining room was turned into a hall for the guests to mingle amongst themselves, with a large dancefloor in front of the stage, where a strings orchestra was to play live. To top it all, there was an open bar.

OOC: Dregruk, you have a TG, before I post my entrance...

Thanks...

Sara Davidson checked her watch again, then shook her head in disbelief. "Incredible," she said to Matthew Griffith, Treasurer-Secretary of Commerce. "We're actually on time. Early, even."

Griffith chuckled. "You diplomats have developed some bad habits. All this 'fashionably late' nonsense..."

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it," she retorted. "Punctuality is so cliché anyway, but since you seem so intent on it, perhaps we ought to get out of the car now."

Griffith opened the door and attempted to step outside, but the cavalry sabre he wore at his side caught in the doorframe. Sara laughed. "Trouble with the sword?"

The Treasurer-Secretary allowed himself a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I suppose I should have gotten Kane to brief me a little more thorougly on the problems of wearing a sabre before I borrowed this one from him. Maybe even learn how to use it. Remind me to get ahold of Kane's instructor when we get home."

"Will do." Sara helped Griffith disentangle himself, and took his arm as they walked into the castle.

The car pulled up outside the chateau, and out stepped a tall dark haired man, his black evening suit adding to his dashing charm. Leaning back into the car, he presented his arm, and a pale hand contrasted against his sleeve, as a young woman, only a few inches shorter than the six foot man, exited the car. She smiled to the man, and brushed her hand down her burgundy gown, removing traces of her time seated in the car. As she walked the dress rustled against the floor.

Reaching the entrance, he presented their invitations. “Ambassador and Mrs Dominic Shaw.” The man smiled, then looked briefly at his wife, her hand tucked safely in the crook of his, keeping her close. They entered the main reception hall, and followed the throng as they made their way slowly to the hall where the ball was to take place.

“It’s beautiful.” Melody sighed as her eyes cast around her, taking in the décor of her surroundings, her eyes wide as she spotted new and interesting features. Slowly her eye became fixed on the sea of colour that spread out before them as the other ladies’ gowns mingled and mixed like a patchwork quilt. She turned to her companion and smiled, before her gaze was once again snatched away by another glamorous item.

Minister Nusz made it his duty to meet each of the new arrivals, taking a few moments with each of them. He made a polite welcome to the arrivals from Copiosa Scotia, before striding over to the arrivals from Gehenna.

"Good evening sir and madam. Welcome to Chateau LaGord." He noticed Mrs. Shaw's eyes flicking around the room, and he smiled. "I see you've noticed the interior, madam. Rather nice, isn't it? One of the last remaining examples of this style in the world."

Staffan af Sparre, former general in Svea Riga, had always considered himself one of the elites within in the Rigan society. But since the revolution he had noticed a sudden drop in respect from his fellow citizens. He had gone abroad, stayed a couple of years in Knootoss, on to Skargarden. He lived anywhere his money meant something, the few hundred millions in gold he took before the vaults were looted. So he and his sons Adam and Andreas frequently went to big dinners and shows like these. The castle was quite out of the ordinary but they quickly settled in.

When greated by Minister Nusz he carried a package roughly the size of a violin. He shook Minister Nusz hand and gave him the package. “Consider this as a token of friendship, and may our way cross many times again” – His sons took a bow and ventured further into the castle, quite quickly settling at the bar.

[The package contains a dagger made of pure gold with a blade of silver and platinum. (worthless fighting with, but quite nice on the wall/desk) http://www.loveleaf.net/ts/image/604U.jpg ]

(OOC: The family (except the father) has no military training nor are they interested in martial arts. Except Andreas love for marksman/sharp shooting they posses no threat to anyone… except if Andreas gets his hands on a bow/rifle)

Robert Hull pushed open the door to his black Government Sedan, and waited impatiently for the two aides he had been assigned to catch up with him before proceeding into the grand chateau. Taking a few seconds to admire its beauty, he couldn't help but think how much of an extravagance the house was, yet how undeniably exquisite and impressive it was. Truly a worthwhile investment, providing you can afford the upkeep, I should think. Robert pushed on to the front door, which was promptly opened by two doormen in immaculate uniforms, and stepped over the threshold into a luxurious classically-decorated entrance hall where even now, many people mulled around, talking and sipping at glasses of champagne, or taking unruly swigs of beers from around the globe.

Robert, a middle-aged Falasturian moving into his 40s no matter how much he tried to resist it, had come in a dinner jacket and suit, dressed to impress. He had been single most of his life, preferring to avoid the restrictions of being attached, but he wasn't averse to finding someone to share his time and a few embraces with every now and then. While Robert had offered himself as a candidate for the representative of his country at this event when he first heard of it, he had only been asked to attend by his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Falastur's Government, a week ago, and his preparations for it were rather hurried, anyway. He had attended many many business meetings and formalities such as this in his lifetime, but this was the first time he had ever participated in an event on such an international scale. Primarily a first-rate businessman working for the leading Shipping company Atlantica International, Robert had been almost solely responsible for his company's astronomical rise to importance, and its huge growth over the last decade or so. His shrewd eye for an investment opportunity, a key business deal, a new horizon of commerce, proved to be the AI Group's greatest asset in modern years. He had held several posts in AI, including directing company growth, which had won him fame for transforming AI from an average shipping line into an international business empire, but his most crucial role he had held for only the last 2 years. As his company's Director for Foreign Interests (running all the company's branches outside of Falastur), he had spent much of his life running around the world, and this job had taught him more than a little about foreign countries. For diplomacy with countries with which Falastur had had no previous correspondance, there was a great demand for queued-up individuals like him to advise on policy and diplomacy, and that knowledge had eventually won him a place on his Government's list of unofficial Ambassadors. He had mainly just been invited to small formalities on behalf of Falastur, a few small international meetings every month or two, and the like. Now he had managed to snag himself a more important fixture. Being one of a very small amount of Falasturians who had had active dealings in the largely-isolationist Dregruk, he had used his knowledge and his value to his Government to worm his way in. Hopefully it would lead to better things.....

Following a page into a dining room, he looked round at the room as he entered, and wished he could have made his own house this beautiful. Another retirement project, maybe? Spying his host, he made his way purposefully towards him, before also spying the open bar, and changing course before returning on his previous trajectory, glass of champagne in hand. Irritatedly trying to shrug off the aides he had been sent with - a man and a woman who looked all-too-formal, and probably were meant to follow him around for the whole night - he stopped a metre or two from Minister Nusz and politely waited for an opportunity to enter the conversation.

Smith reached into the limo helping his wife out

“Thank you” said Susan as she reached her feet, like it or not she was getting old, and she wasn’t as agile as she use to be.

A bit of a smile came across Smiths face “No bother, we aren’t as young as we use to be”

Susan took Smiths side and gazed upon the giant castle that stood before them. “Well it would appear that some things never change, we still have our duty.” Until a few years ago the couple had been the two most powerful people in Tappee. Smith had been Tappee’s president, while Susan had been the Director of the Tribunal, Tappee ruling body. However, all the had changed when they had retired. But a requested by their daughter to help out had brought the couple here today.

“If you recall, I always hated these things” Joked Smith while they waited to be greeted.

Lord Azazel, or rather a clone representing Lord Azazel, exited the stretched limo and made his way over, flanked by two rather large bodyguards. He checked his suit and made sure his watch was on the right time before he walked into the castle. The clone kept a suspisious eye on those nearby.

"Keep a watch out," he muttered to the bodyguards. "I don't want any nasty surprises like my last ball."

OOC:

If anyone wants to know about Lord Azazel click here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=6639718&postcount=6)

Sector Administrator Sir Rel Markinson, Baron Hartford, Knight-Protector of the Order of the Crimson Sash, walked slowly down the assault shuttle's ramp. Rel Markinson was a powerful man, the sole executor of Revenian Diplomatic Policy for the Sol Sector.

Ice Blue eyes took in the Dregruki complex and surroundings. Rel nodded to himself, slowly, as if to indicate his acceptance of the reality of the area, or something along those lines, anyway.

Rel Markinson stood at around six foot one, and weighed in at one hundred fifty s.pounds. His hair was a dark crimson in color, and bore a slight natural curl to it.

Yes, Rel Markinson was a handsome man. Said so on his resume. Said a lot of things on his resume, like the way he seemed to exude noble arrogance combined with rogueish charm. This was, of course, necessary.

You see, as far as the Sol Sector went, from day to day, Rel Markinson -was- the Supremacy. He, thus, had to act the part.

So.

His hand tightened around the haft of his Tri-Staff and he made his approach to the Chateau, his white robes of office and crimson mantle providing an interesting effect to his movements. He presented his invitation to the doorman with an air of some slight annoyance at having his august person questioned in such a mundane way, and, having thus allowed the underling to note the arrival of 'System Administrator The Baron Sir Rel Markinson,' said august personage made his way inward.

Another day...
Another need for him to show the flag...

Wonderful.

"I'm sorry Minister, there are a lot of cars unloading guest, I'm not sure how close I can get you without waiting in a long line," said the driver of the limousine. "That's fine Phillip, just get me as close as possibly. It won't bother me to walk a little ways to the door," said Minister Crane, sounding slightly excited, for his duties rarely took him outside of Frostguarde.

The luxurious, black limousine, of Guardean build, pulled over not too far from the chateau's entrance. The back door swung slowly open and Minister Jean Crane pulled himself up, out of the vehicle then grabbed his cane. "Let me help you, dear," he said, as he gave his wife, Elizabeth, a hand out of the limo. "Thank you, honey," she said with a smile. "Such an impressive looking building! I can only imagine what the inside is like." "Yes, it is of a very different style," Jean replied. "You won't find places like these left in Frostguarde. Maybe out in the country perhaps..."

The couple began walking, hand in hand, up to the entrance of the chateau, while Phillip pulled away from the curb, off to park the limo. Jean Crane is the Minister of Commerce on Frostguarde's Royal Court and his wife, Elizabeth Crane, sits on the board of CelliTech, a large Guardean corporation. They are both dressed in formal dinner attire, Mrs. Crane wearing a navy blue gown with an exquisite diamond necklace and the Minister wearing your standard black dinner jacket over a white shirt with black pants. The Cranes are starting to appear gray around the edges, for both are pushing 55 years of age. The Minister requires a cane to walk, as his left leg is bad. It is an extravagant piece of work made of black ebony and crowned with the silver head of a frost lion, the national animal of Frostguarde. He stands around 6'1", has blue eyes, and appears to be in good shape for his age. His brown hair is streaked with gray lines throughout it and his beard has gone totally gray. Mrs. Crane is much shorter at 5'4", has green eyes, still appears quite vain and attractive for her age, and has (dyed) red hair with no traces of gray.

The two arrive at the door and Jean presents their invites to the doorman. "Hello, I am Minister Jean Crane and my wife, Elizabeth. We're the couple from Frostguarde," he flashed the doorman a warm smile as Elizabeth looked about, admiring various painting she spied on the walls. The two move further into the grand building, stopping at various pieces of art, and hoping to spy the lord of the manor.

Dominic and Melody turned as one as they heard the voice beside them. The Ambassador turned to see his wife blush slightly, adding more colour to her cheeks. She was feeling uneasy about being overheard, her opinions were rarely shared with others, especially to people she had not met.

They looked at the new arrival who had spoken, Dominic about to speak, when Melody squeezed his arm, like she always did if she did not need his aid in something. “Yes, it is a truly magnificent building.” She smiled briefly, then smiled at her husband for him to continue.

“We had read some interesting things about the chateau, and are honoured to be standing here at the opening of potential International ties between our two countries.” He stood and presented his hand to the other man. “I’m Dominic Shaw, and this is my wife, Melody.” They both smiled at the introduction and the Ambassador continued on.

“Have you been in diplomatic service for long?” Silly question, he knew, but it was out before he had time to think. But it was always the test of a good ambassador to see if he sidestepped the quirks in order for an easy life. A test that Dominic had passed countless times before.

Two men entered the party, one a well-built man in his early sixties, the other an athletic-looking man in his mid thirties...

The older man, clearly someone of importance, was dressed in a fine silk suit. His manner contrasted sharply with his dress, however. Numerous four-letter-words & euphamisums filled his speech, befitting of a former USMC general. The hair on his head was steel-gray, his brown eyes filled with a fire only skilled officers & braggarts knew. The man was General Jeff Garand, head of the private military corporation known as Mercenary Soldiers...

The younger man was dressed in a loose-fitting black suit with a red tie. RayBander mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes from view. The man was Mercutio Stillwater, Garand's bodyguard & possibly next in line for command of MS. Fingerless tactical gloves gave him an out-of-place look. A Glock 17 semi-automatic 9mm hung in an underarm holster under his left arm. Stillwater was a former NSA clandestine operative & sometimes assassin. Garand had left his Mk 23 SOCOM back at the HQ, it was left up to Stillwater to protect him from any incursions...

OOC:

Garand is a pretty good marksman with a handgun, but is unarmed. He's also not a bad brawler.

Stillwater is skilled in evasion, handguns, unarmed techniques, and long-range rifle marksmanship. Still, he is only one man.

I'm looking for a change of leadership, possibly making Stillwater the head-man. I'd like him to survive if at all possible.

Emperor Catsendt was having fun in his one seater Landstar Nemesis on the way to the party. Fishtailing, double 180 bootlegs...anything to make marks on the road. As soon as the streets started to get busier(he couldn't tell if it was the press, spectators, or other guests), however, he settled down and just rolled. This made his "special assistant" Kasper--driving along with him in a one seater Landstar Hyperion--settle down too. Although usually as laid back as the Emperor, the last thing he needed was a car accident on the way to a royal party. They found a place to rest their cars and put them in "Fort Knox" mode. They walked briskly through the colossal front door into the magnificent building. They immediately felt out of place in their very casual clothing and odd hair(Kasper's was zebra striped, the Emperor's was tiger striped, going horizontally each of them) They each had sports jerseys on with a baseball cap, although they were wearing khaki dress pants. It was an outfit that would definitely confuse you. Kasper was carrying two Delrith mini-tranqs[OOC: Sorry Dreg, but they have to go that way. Besides, the weapons are really only half a pistol, so they equal one] like he always carried, one for him, the other for the emperor, just in case. "So," the Emperor said to Kasper, "Wanna' find the claw machine?"
"Yeah, let's ask this guy, it looks like he's the host." The Emperor approached minister Nusz.
"Excuse me sir, do you know if there's a claw machine on the premises? My bodyguard and I enjoy the entertainment those sorts of machines provide. Of course, it appears like you are going for the classic look, and claw machines are not very classic, I understand. If you did not invest in claw machines for this event, I will find another form of entertainment."

Cherry Gold walked up to the door and knocked. As a butler escorted her in, her two bodyguards followed in her wake. Cherry looked about her at the magnificence.

Wow, this is great.

This was Cherry's first diplomatic event. She had thrown herself into her career after Hans Utsma had left her when she was 17, and had been rewarded with this at the young age of 26.

OOC: More info on Cherry's life to come if necessary. Also, her bodyguards are unarmed.

Jenna came to the castle. It was quite beautiful, more so than any building she had ever seen back home. She had a jacket on over her dress. She felt more comfortable in sleeves than anything else. She knew she would be rude to wear the jacket indoors, so she knew it had to come off. She would wait until she got inside.

She came to the front door and was escorted to where the rest of the guests had gathered. One offered to take her jacket, and she relinquished it to him. She looked around the room, quite impressed with the decorations.

She smiled. This could almost be fun.

(Jenna is in her early fourties but looks like she's in her late twenties. She's about 5'8, has blonde hair, blue eyes and a good figure. She was a commando in her twenties but left that life behind her long ago.)

A limousine drove up slowly in front of the chateau. The vehicle had to be large, because the delegation that was chosen by the Emperor of The Crown Empire essentially was an entire family. The side door opened and out came an elderly man. He was retired Commander of the Army Giuseppe Venizelli. His grey hair and wrinkled skin still did not hide the fact that the man was still virile and strong at age 68. Venizelli had on him a fine sabre made from very high grade steel. He was dressed in a black evening suit, and used a cane to help him walk.

As soon as the patriarch of the Venizelli family emerged from the car, his son and daughter and their spouses emerged as well. Jonathan Venizelli helped his wife, Elaine, from the car. She was painfully pregnant and she was in her 6th month of pregnancy.

“Oh God,” she said as she frantically tried to get out of the car with her ballooned belly. “Ohh! Help me, you old geezer!” Giuseppe rushed over to help lift the woman up and get her on her feet. After a minute, she was up and walking, although probably not feeling much better about coming here when she was in her state. Jonathan’s hair was messed up from the ordeal, so he took some time fixing it with his hands and saliva.

Coming out of the limo were the rest of the Venizelli family. Ben Hart and Giuseppe’s daughter, Fiona, emerged with their daughter. Fiona and her daughter, Susan, both shared blonde hair. While Ben looked on sheepishly as Elaine waddled towards the entrance of the chateau, Susan jumped up and down and ran up to Giuseppe in her red gown and long flowing hair. “Grandpa! Grandpa! I hope we’re going to have fun tonight!” Giuseppe smiled and lifted Susan up on his shoulders. “Susie, you’re a pretty good person for stating the obvious! Now, let’s go inside and see if there are any cherry tarts!” Susan laughed playfully as her grandfather spun in a few circles and then placed her on the ground again.

The whole Venizelli clan gathered together and Giuseppe led them up to entrance, where Minister Nusz was located. Giuseppe gave them their invitation, and introduced everyone. “Good evening. I’m Giuseppe Venizelli, and I’ve brought my family. They are Jonathon and Elaine Venizelli, and those charming three are Ben, Fiona, and Susan Hart. I hope I haven’t caused a problem bringing such a large entourage.” Giuseppe presented the Minister with a fine Valerian short sword, which was of extremely high quality, like the swords manufactured in Japan. They were efficient killing devices.

Fiona, in her champagne-colored gown, smiled with her cherry-colored lips to Minister Nusz. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Minister,” she said. She looked around at the architecture of the palace with her green eyes and had an indifferent expression fixed on her face. The Magnus Valerian Imperial Estate was something else, but it was a quaint castle. Her lips lifted into a smile once she saw more of the interior and its decorations. She was falling in love with the architecture already. Ben stepped up towards Nusz along with Giuseppe and Jonathon, whose wife was going with Fiona and Susan inside the ball room.

“I hope you like our little gift,” smiled the elder as his son and son-in-law introduced themselves.

“I’m Ben Hart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Good evening. I’m Jonathan Venizelli.”

"So what now, Ms. Diplomat? Keep in mind I haven't had the honor of accompanying you to one of these events before."

"Honor, eh? That's an interesting way of looking at it." Sara laughed lightly, shaking her head. "Well, the basic outline generally goes something like this: We take advantage of the free food and drink, mingle with the diplomats..." she paused, noticing the expression of mock horror on Griffith's face. "What now?"

"I'm sorry, did you say 'mingle with the diplomats'? I think I'd better get a good stiff drink first," he quipped.

Sara let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, fine. Suit yourself. I'll just wait here. Try not to create any international incidents on your way to the bar."

(OOC Notes: Griffith is a 39-year-old career economist, Davidson is a 25-year-old diplomat. Both are reasonably fit. Neither is combat-trained. Between the two, the only weapon being carried is the sword Griffith is wearing, which he does not know how to use.

As for appearances - and I'm kicking myself for not including those ICly in the first post - Griffith is 5'11, medium build, with blue eyes, sandy blond hair, and friendly, intelligent features. He's wearing a white jacket with a black shirt and slacks. Davidson is 5'4 and slender, blue-eyed, with brown hair cut just above the shoulders, wearing a very basic floor-length medium blue dress.)

Commisar Yuri Kasnarov stepped out of the taxi. Yuri was about 6'4" and 210lb. His grey eyes quickly scanned the area, looking for threats. He brushed a bit of his brown hair out from in front of his eyes. He straightened out a few wrinkles on his white military uniform and fixed his hat on his head.

He then made his way to the front door. He approached the doorman and said his name and handed him the invitation. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, showing the general Hattian apathy for aesthetics and not even noticing the architecture of the building, instead taking notice of the various people mingling inside.

"Bloody hell, I hope they don't make me disarm." he mumbled while walking inside. He patted the hilt of his Hattian Vistal sword...

Sir Isaias Searcey tried to ignore the stares and whispers that where coming from the ever-growing crowd of onlookers. He hadn’t wanted to do what he was doing of course, but a bet was a bet, and he was a man of honour. He smiled, what he hoped look regally into the crowd, and adjusted the blue and silver sash that lay over his black tuxedo. In his lap was a small bottle of Water Coolian Brandy, a gift actually, wrapped in silver paper, with a familiar looking blue and silver ribbon around it.

He leaned forward and whispered to the driver,

“I say, be a good chap and hurry up will you. This air is quiet cold you know!”

The driver nodded and sent his leather-riding crop up and down over the flank of the horses that where pulling the ornate cart that Isaias sat so embarrassedly in.

In hindsight, he thought the opposite of the bet, going a month with out brandy would have been less embarrassing to fulfil, albeit more depriving.

As he waited for the procession of vehicles to get closer to the castle he chuckled as he recalled the look on his protégés face when he made the request to arrive in a horse and cart at the Castle. Sadly, he thought in a retrospective way, I’m getting to old for hijinks like this. The end of this year would mark the conclusion of 60 years of successful service for the Coolian Empire. Ever since he had became regional leader of the Coolian Youth Band at the age of 17 he had preformed commendably in his work to the Emperor. A result of a lifetime of hard service was that he now was rather well respected amongst the ranks of ambitious governmental personal, and was allowed, out of respect to his sharp tongue, then anything else, to attend a wide variety of receptions and the like. In fact, he and his work was so well appreciated, that last year at his 70th birthday he has been awarded the Coolian Cross with Imperial Honours, an honour of which caused him an immeasurably amount of pride.

After what seemed like far too long a time to travel a few hundred metres the Cart arrived at the door. Looking up at the castle for the first time, he was begrudgingly stunned by the grandeur of it. Although it didn’t quiet rival the buildings back home, it was quiet nice in a foreign barbarian way.

As gracefully as his limbs could manage, he exited the carriage, smiling slightly at a lovely couple who stared wordlessly at him. A chill raced down his spine when a hand grabbed his arm. He was about to turn around when the voice belonging to the hand spoke

“Won’t this be fun honey?” He groaned as the perky female voice asked. He had forgotten about his ‘escort’ that had been forced onto him by an overly zealous PR officer. “Oh, look what you have forgotten!” She said with a tinkle of moronic laughter, as she held out the gift-wrapped bottle.

Grabbing the bottle he glared at err…whatever her name was and steadily walked towards the castle door.

He presented his initiation, and after giving his gift walked into the hall that was already a swarm with people. The rich happy sounds of the celebration relaxed him, and he even put a hand out on her arm as she walked by, her sleek black and white gown swishing silently.

Minister Nusz smiled at the Gehenna couple and replied, "Working as a diplomat in an isolationist country... let's just say I had a lot of time to myself. Excuse me, I have other guests to welcome." He said, walking away whilst mumbling something about "being the only man in Dregruk who knows how to wear a tie...".

He stopped when he almost walked into the gentleman from Falastur. "Ah, good evening Mr. Hull. I hope you have an enjoyable night. Forgive me, but there are more people arriving..."

Again, the strode off, this time simply greeting the arrivals with a smile and a firm handshake, sometimes a few words of welcome.

When he was finally certain he had greeted everyone, and he had retrieved the several gifts that had been brought to him, he mingled amongst the crowd.

After receiving a hasty, but polite and cordial, greeting from Minister Nusz, the Cranes made their way to the bar to have a drink or two. The Minister Crane selected a red wine and Mrs. Crane opted for champagne. Then they simply strolled through the crowds, sipping at their drinks, occasionally mingling with fellow diplomats and making comments to each other about various artwork, décor, and guests. Mrs. Crane had few kind words about the duo from Maniaca, and Jean couldn't keep himself from letting out a chuckle or two. Elizabeth also pointed out "the sweetest little girl," being Susan Venizelli and complimented the lady with her, probably the mother, on the child.

A long, long, long white limousine. It stoped infront of the main entrance, the driver opened up his door, climbed out. It was a fat black man in a chauffeurs suit. He walked around the car, to the far end of it. Opend up that door, out of it a very builtifull.. no, wrong word, very sexy woman got out. She giggled a little, "Oh.. Obi.. your so funny!"

A black man in a white suit and a white leather coat, a high white high-hat on his head and black sunglasses came out after the woman.
"Well.. ya' know.. Im da' man.."
And the man, who was supossed to be the man, was Obi. No last name, no middle name. Just Obi. One of the major hiphop-stars in Danneland.
And since the relations between the two nations wasnt that great, they didnt send anyone imporant enough that could be used as a reason to surrender.

And ofcourse, after Obi, another sexy female came. Obi took one woman in each hand and walked up the stairs, stoped infront of Minister Nusz and gave him his right hand.
"Yo" he simply said.
" 'Dis on mah rite is Caaaariiinaaa.. she's latino.. so dont push her to far, she'll go loco on ya.. trust me.. my back still hurts. 'n 'dis on mah left is April, she's won some beuty contest"
April smiled at Nusz, "Im miss April.. thats why name is April!" she giggled a bit.
Obi smiled, "She's a bit.. ya know.. though she all that.. 'n who you be?"

OOC: Just think of Obi as Ice-T in white. He's your regular "homeboy". though, unarmed.

The clone of Lord Azazel began mingling with the crowd, still flanked by the two bodyguards. His eyes crossed the room looking for someone or something interesting, but so far nothing caught his eye. He pressed on of the medals on his chest.

"So far nothing," he said, seemingly to no one. "You're not really missing much other then the usual snobs."

"Um... yes." Said Nusz, to the... gentleman from Danneland. "I'll just... go over here..."

He turned away and quickly entered the thick, protective blanket of the crowd.

His destination? The life-giving alcohol at the bar.

Obi looked with a bothered face at Carin, "I think the man is a little craaanky.. but its 'dem Dregrukians ya' know.. they be like.. wierd, lets part-hey"

The trio entered the main ballroom. Overlooking the crowd Obi nodded, " mah ladies.. 'dis right here is going to be one bad ass paaart-heey. Look at that bar, look at 'dem women. And for the two of ya.. there's me!"

The two women giggled and praised Obi for his awsomeness. He simply replied, "ya know.. Im 'da man"

He cleared his throat and made his way through the crowd, he stoped infront of a female. (Sara) "Girl.. wanna get jiggin' wid' it?" He made is im-so-hot-and-so-are-you-lets-get-dooown.
Carina and April stood behind him and just smiled, they were used to this kind of treatment. And infact, they didnt care.
"Ya' can be in mah' next video.."
Obi spinned a cane with a dimond on the top infront of his face. (yes, he has a cane. I forgot that in the last post).
"What 'ya say?"

Ever-so-often turning to greet another guest - occasionally even seeing diplomats with whom he had met before - Robert strode across the room to drop off his emptied champagne glass at the bar, before continuing to the ornate doors to the dining room where he had entered. The room was marvellous, he could only imagine what the rest of the house was like. Glancing up the stairs to the balcony in the entrance hall which led to the 1st floor, he couldn't resist taking a look. Architecture always had fascinated him anyway. Just as he was about to head up the stairs, something touched his shoulder. Turning round, he found himself face to face with one of his aides, the other standing diagonally behind the first.

"Going somewhere, Mr. Hull? I believe Minister Nusz' speech will be shortly, and it wouldn't be too prudent for you to turn up on time, and yet miss the ceremony."

Cursing at his misfortune to be stuck with two all-too-good-at-their-job aides, he thought quickly and replied, "Yes, I just need to visit the bathroom. Please excuse me one minute, I won't miss anything. Have no fear"

He gave the pair a fake smile and a nod, turned on his heels, and strode off up the stairs, making casual glances from left to right, trying to appear to be looking for a bathroom sign. Satisfied by the response, the aides returned to the dining room. Closing the doors to the corridor on the first floor behind him, as he had found them, he gave a smile as he noticed how noone appeared to have spotted him. There was nothing wrong with his wanting to look around the place alone, but he found that hosts often tried found this kind of action strange, and he was by now tired of being escorted back to the halls, as he had before. Mouthing a few words to himself, he practised saying his excuse for his wandering should he be stopped, then he proceeded to head along the corridor, glancing into rooms, admiring decorations and chandeliers, enjoying his love of finely decorated residences. Eventually satisfied, he returned to the dining room, hoping that his aides had not noticed his prolonged absense.

Sara frowned. Er... what? "I'm sorry, sir," she began, smiling apologetically. "I'm not familiar with that dialect. Where did you say you were from again?""

Obi nodded, "I see.. I see, just cuz its a black man you 'dont understand". Well Im sorr-hey your high-ness. if I off-ended your fee-lings. I'll just move my black ass outahere so you can keep on goin' with ya' prejudice white life"
Obi turned around and began to move through the crowd, followed by the two women. "ya' know.. 'dis place needs some music" Just then he spotted Nusz.
"Yo! Dregruk boa' " he placed a hand on Nusz's shoulder. " 'dis crib 'rite here is damn fine.. but the music.. I mean.. you wont get no music with this.. so wha you say.. I go on and put a reccord to spinn' ?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Said Nusz calmly and reassuringly, "The main speech is about to begin, so the music is about to finish. However, if you want to put on some of your own music, feel free to ask an official. After the speech."

He then walked away, stopping in front of the lady from Copiosa Scotia and saying, "I must apologise for that gentleman's performance a moment ago. Our two nations are at war, so no one really interesting or... polite, was sent."

Sara laughed. "It's quite alright, sir. But out of curiosity... does everyone from his country speak that way? I've never heard anything like it before."

"I don't think all the Dannelandians speak like that. Not that it matters... our military seem to be making excellent progress in their country."

Not happy about being ignored by Mr. Nusz, the duo sat down at a stool and watched the crowd. "Hey, look, a black guy. Don't see many of them at a royal ball. These rich white folks usually be bitten by the racist bug," Kasper noted.
"That guy's ghetto rockin. My guess would be he's the delegate from Danneland. Those too countries are sparrin, and so Danneland wouldn't send anyone ballroom style now would they? They'd get somebody who'd be a thorn in this guy's side."
"Like us?"
"Exactly." The bartender approached the two men, asking if they would like a drink. Both of them asked for a soda. "Looks like that Nusz guy is about to make his speech," Emperor Catsendt said. "My money's on long and boring."
Kasper responded, "Yeah, only a boring guy wouldn't have a claw machine at his party." Kasper put his sunglasses with a mirror insert on, Ripped the top opener of his soda can off, did a half spin and winged it at Nusz from across the room. He completed the circle, took off the glasses, and continued to converse as if nothing had happened. He dropped the empty soda can in the trash. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" Kasper took out his SAKA device--looked much like a game boy advance old style--and went to work. He was dissapointed to find the lights weren't operated by computer. In fact, he found almost nothing was. He couldn't use the SAKA for mayhem, so he just played pinball. "I sure hope that guy finishes with his rambling soon," the Emperor said lowly, wiping something off his football jersey.

Rel had finished his circuit, and found himself leaning against a wall. It was his preferred spot, anyways. The white robes and crimson mantle combined with the tri-staff made him look quite foreign, and of course, he was.

Rel was a master of 'Detached Arrogance,' as if everything and everyone around him was simply unimporant for his notice. His time was OBVIOUSLY best spent planning his next conquest, worrying about matters of GREAT importance that simple MORTALS could not POSSIBLY understand.

Of course, it was entirely an act. But then, was not Warprince Stark the greatest Improvisational Actor in history? Were not all Revenian Nobles extremely skilled actors? The answer to both questions was "Yes."

Rel Markinson was also a supremely dangerous man. He had to be. The arrogant style of diplomacy he had adopted required him to be. It was unsurprising that he was possibly the single best duelist in the whole of the Supremacy.

His grip tightened on his Tri-Staff, almost reflexively. The three-bladed staff was both a symbol of his office and his primary method of defense. The interruptor field it emitted was little understood. The only thing he knew was that it worked. (OOC Note: Read As: (Yeah. It slows stuff down. Don't ask me how, I don't know. Minor effect, really. Anyways.)

Those ice blue eyes flickered about the assembled, and he settled in for a bit of a wait. Something about a speech, perhaps...

Torel stepped out the limo and onto the steps of the palace only to find Destra standing alone on the steps. From what he could tell she looked a bit distressed, but given the situation he could see why. With a few quick strides he walked up behind her, “Destra let me be the first to offer my condolences on your loss. However, I need you to be strong during this troubling time, we must act quickly in order to maintain control”

As a sign of good faith he offered her his hand “please come with me”

Watching the diplomat walk away, Dominic guided his wife around the main room, their eyes scanning the area trying to pick up any familiar faces, unfortunately the Empire had not been too hot at building international relations under the old Emperor, something that his daughter was trying to change.

“How are you feeling?” Dominic spoke softly, the words barely reaching his wife above a whisper, but even that could not hid the concern in his voice. There had been doubts up until and hour ago whether she would be able to attend with him; his secretary already to step into her position, but Melody had decided that she could make the evening, but that did not stop her husband from worrying.

She looked into his eyes and smiled, her cheeks growing rosy at his obvious concern. “I’m fine.” Her hand reached up and brushed a tiny speck of dust from his jacket, like a doting wife would. “Don’t worry about me, and enjoy the proceedings.”

Nodding his head, he gave her a gently peck on the cheek. “If you say so.” They both smiled at each other, knowing that he would continue to worry, it was in his nature to be protective of the one person he loved more than life. “Shall we get some refreshments before the main event really starts.

With her agreement, they both headed through the crowds, sharing the odd word with people they passed, or smiled in greeting, until they found what they sought.

“I’ll have two glasses of water” Said Smith as he reached the bar. Letting out a sigh he rested his arms on the bars counter. However, another diplomate and his wife soon joined him and the counter.

From what he could tell the woman didn't look like she was feeling so well. "You don't look so well" said Smith to the young woman, he realized that he was being rude and had not introduced himself. "I'm sorry, my name is Smith Allenson from Tappee." he extend his hand as a sign of good faith.

Dominic looked at the man before him, then looked at his wife. He could see she was having a rougher time of it than she was letting on.

Turning back to Smith, Dominic presented his hand and shook firmly. “I’m Ambassador Dominic Shaw, and this is my wife, Melody.” The woman beside him nodded her head and smiled in greeting, managing a small ‘pleased to meet you,’ before her husband carried on. “We are from the Empire of Tartarus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Allenson.”

Susan made her way through the crowd towards the bar, she was thirsty and Smith had yet to return with drink. She found him talking to a couple “There you are, I thought that you may have gotten lost” said jokingly

Quickly he hand her the glass of water “Where are my manners” he pointed toward Dominic and Melody “This is Amassador Dominic Shaw and his wife Melody” he then pointed towards Susan “This is my wife Dr Susan Clrackon”

Susan smiled and nodded “A pleasure to meet you. Tell me what you think of all this?”

The two Weegie diplomats, John Harrison and Rachel Fletcher, entered the ball, both looking slightly apprehensive as to why they were at the ball. The two were conversing with each other; the tall, slender woman having to lean over slightly to talk to the shorter, stockier man. The man was frowning; he raised a hand to his forehead, and rubbed it, slightly frustrated with the conversation he was having.

"..it's just all I was saying was that I don't see why we need to improve our international relations with other nations. We have CACE, we have our forays in the United Nations. We don't need any other friends, especially those who need to form friendships through schmoozing like this." said John.

Rachel sighed. John was a new addition to the Diplomatic Service, despite being in his late 40's; he was ex-military, or to be exact, part of the training force sent by the nation of Talaax to aid the newly-formed Weegie army not so very long ago, but Talaax had been in trouble, it had fallen apart, it had seemed, and John seemed more and more preoccupied. It had been better for him and the army to put him into another area of the Weegie administration, and the Service was always looking for more people, and so he got shunted into them. He was ok, in his own little way... still a little combatative, though.

"We can always do with putting on a good face, and attending things like this." said Rachel, flicking her long reddish hair away from her face. "After all, if we hadn't been so sociable on the international stage to begin with, would we have gotten Talaax's aid against the Atticans?"

John's face darkened at the name of his old country. "Indeed.", he said, quietly. He glanced around the room. "Your friends the Rigans are here."

Now it was Rachel's turn to look downcast. "Ah... I think we shall have to talk to them at some point, probably." They both moved together into the centre of the room.

OOC note: Svea Riga used to own the Weegies as a colony. The subsequent independance movement left... certain grievances on both sides. As a result, Rigans are viewed with a certain mistrust by native Weegies, despite recent events making both countries allies.

Cherry headed for the bar.

Dominic and Melody turned as the woman approached, both giving her a friendly smile in greeting as she was introduced, before each of them shook her hand in turn first Melody, then Dominic.

“Doctor Clrackon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Ambassador shot Allenson’s wife one of his most dazzling smiles, as his wife looked kindly at her.

Melody, who was standing closest to Susan, address her. “May I ask what you are a doctor in?” The young woman felt comfortable around the older couple. She was not always good among strangers, even for an Ambassador’s wife.

The clone of Lord Azazel tapped the medal again. "Definitly not missing much," he mentioned before heading over to the bar, greeting those who greeted him.

Susan gave Melody a bit of a smile, she was glade to get some attention, the truth was that most people ignored her choosing instead to talk to Smith. “I’ve got my PhD in medicine in my much more younger days I was a field medic” she glanced briefly over at Smith “that is of course how I first meet Smith, but I do not want to bore you with the details.”

Smith let out a bit of chuckle recalling how the two had first meet all those years ago, and all that they had went through since then. They had come a long ways since those youthful days back at the Academy. Out the corner of his eye noticed that another had joined them at the bar. More then interest to bring more in to the conversation he thought it wise invite to woman into the small group that was now forming.

“I see that another person is seeking drink, as an escape from the heat why don’t join us”

Cherry smiled. "Hello, I am Cherry Gold from Temme."

Waiting for the speech, Robert sauntered over to the bar to pick up another glass of champagne.

Melody continued her conversation with Susan, as Dominic turned to greet Cherry. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Gold. I am Ambassador Dominic Shaw from Tartarus and this…” He indicated his wife, who turned around at a touch on her arm. “This is my wife, Melody.”

Melody extended her hand, and lightly shook the other woman’s before leaving her husband doing what he did best, while she continued to as Susan for details of her field of medicine, hoping to persuade her to divulge the secret of her first meeting with Smith.

“Ms Gold, what do you do, may I ask?” Dominic turned on his diplomatic charm, and worked at making Cherry feel more at ease.

"I work in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs," Cherry replied. "I'm Maureen June's personal assistant. When Ms. June couldn't make it, she asked me to attend."

The Cranes, growing tired of walking about the premises, decided to settle into a pair of armchairs in the main room. Mrs. Crane got a good view of Obi and turned over to her husband to whisper, "My goodness, Jean, who or what is -that-?" "I'm not too sure dearest, he looks more like one of those rap artists than a diplomat," he whispered back. "First that goofy pair with that crazed hair, now this character? Don't these nations have any professionalism? Perhaps isolation was better for the Guarde," she replied. Jean frowned and raised his voice slightly, "Oh please Beth, it isn't like there aren't rappers in Frostguarde. We're here to try to make friends and you're being so judgmental!" "OH excuse me Jean, I wasn't aware following me around the whole evening was considered 'making friends' by our beloved Emperor. Please continue your great task of brining Frostguarde into the international eye. And wait, isn't that the princesses job?" She replied, getting agitated. "That -is- the princess' job, but she is currently meeting with people in Automagfreek, -honey-. I'm so -glad- you've enjoyed my company this evening too, perhaps I should give you more space if I keep following you?" Jean replied, trying to keep his voice down, so they didn't attract attention. "Good idea, now go away," Mrs. Crane said flatly. "FINE!" yelled Minister Crane, getting up and making strides toward the bar.

"I should've staid single. At the very least I could hit on that black man's whores," Jean thought to himself as he reached the bar, looking frazzled. "I hope the minister's speech is soon." He broke from his thoughts to speak with the bartender, "Give me the strongest thing you have in there, quickly."

Matthew Griffith finally managed to make his way through the growing crowd to the bar, and waved at the bartender. "Bourbon, over ice," he said, realizing immediately that he probably should have used the more internationally common phrase "on the rocks." No matter. He'll understand, at any rate. "James Hallen if you have it. Got to support my national industries," he added with a grin.

Minister Nusz climbed up to the pedestal on the stage and turned on the microphone on the collar of his jacket. Speech time.

The band stopped playing, and Nusz began:

"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Dregruk. For many of you, this will be a first time experience, for others... you may have visited us in more hostile situations.

"As you may know Dregruk has supported an isolationist policy for many years..."

As these words were being spoken, a 2 black vans pulled up at the service entrance. When the porter came out to get some ID, he recieved two hollow-point bullets in his head from a silenced pistol.

"This is a landmark day in Dregruk's history, and quite possibly in the history of the world..."

The backs of the vans opened up, and 12 men came out, holding sub machine guns and pistols. They made their way into the service elevators, quietly killing all the security personnel on the premises.

"The forging of a new Dregruk, with itself as a major contender in the international community..."

The service elevator PINGED when it reached the ball room, and the terrorists moved out of it. The leader took the silencer off his pistol and fired into the air three times.

"Ladies and gentleman!" He yelled over the screaming. "This party will be resuming a new course for the remainder of the evening."

He motioned with his free hand to his men, and the moved around the hall, quickly covering all the exits.

The sound of gunfire echoed through Smith ears, in a heart bet he turned to see the terrorists enter the room. Out of pure instinct he reached for gun, grabbing nothing but air, he had stopped carrying a side arm when he retired.

Quickly he began playing out possible scenarios through his head, had it been just him and Susan, and they were much younger, he may have put up a fight. However, there were many more lives that now hung in the balance, he thought of Melody the young woman he had just met. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to be hurt due to his actions. Out of the corner his eye he could see the Susan had taken a bit more of defensive posture but was holding her ground, not wanting to add to the current problem. “Everyone stay cool, and we will be alright.”

His mind flashed back to an event that occurred to an event that took place many years ago. Back when he had been president of Tappee and he had been taken hostage by terrorist forces. Thing were different this time, he was older, and unlike with Iaceo he didn’t have an agent on the inside, now he was alone, and more lives then just his hung in the balance.

Seeing the doors over the lift burst open, terrorists emptying into the room, and watching the muzzle flashes as 3 bullets span out of the chamber of the terrorist's gun to lodge in the ceiling, Robert's heart gave a jump. His champagne glass slipped to the floor, smashing and spraying its sweet contents on the base of his trouser leg and across the floor around him. Thoughts rushed around his head, he had never expected such a situation to cause him so much fear and so many helpless feelings, despite his basic training in such eventualities, and his hard self-belief that he could stay calm in any situation. Reaching for his gun, trying to make a stand, show himself for the brave guy he was, he instantly thought better of it. His Beretta 9mm had one bullet anyway, and he stood no chance, not with a million bullets, of doing much harm before he would be shot. It would be best in everyone's interests to just do nothing. Accepting the reality, he just stood there, uncertain of what to do.

"Oh crap," The clone of Lord Azazel muttered over the sound of gunfire. He was instantly reminded of his grandson's attack on his own ball. "Damn clone limitations."

The two bodyguards with him drew their weapons, they didn't fire back however. It seemed like they had frozen. The clone meanwhile had started to make his way through the crowd looking for a safe exit, if of course there was one.

Rel's thumb found the switchplate on his Tri-staff and rested on it. The bulky SMP-10 that was the standard issue diplomatic service firearm rested in its holster beneath his robes...where he couldn't get at.

Which meant that his immediate action was to slink off for cover, which was found behind a conveniently over-turned table of some sort. Now that that immediate priority was taken care of, he went over his options.

Firstly, he shouldn't have been in this situation. Events where terrorist involvement was likely were supposed to be handed off to specialists. People who lived and breathed on the edge, people who functioned best in a high-stress, high-intensity, high-thread environment.

Once upon a time, Rel Markinson had been one of those people. It would seem he'd slipped. Of course, that was only to be expected. He was, after all, quite senior to the man he had been.

Rel took a few deep breaths, then. Quite to his surprise, he no longer felt that prior rising panic. He felt the familiar cold chill of Administrator Crisis Training settle in.

Apparently it was merely a momentary slip.

So, he settled in for a bit of a wait.

When the service elevator made noise, Kasper tucked the machine in his pocket, and the Emperor looked up. When they saw men in black clothing come out, Kasper pulled out his tranq, fired a shot, and grabbed the Emperor running for a hall out of the room. A terrorist stepped in front of the hallway, and the Emperor swung out with his half full soda can and hit him right on the forehead. Kasper, tranq still in hand, fired a shot in his neck, and carried the weasly man away with him, with the Emperor's help. The stepped around the end of the hallway and threw the terrorists' limp body in an elevator across the new hallway they were in. "Maybe they didn't see us." Kasper pulled out his SAKA again and searched for a camera on the lot to see if there was a story above the great hall and more importantly, find out if there were ventillation ducts above the room. They had to move quickly, the man in the elevator would wake up in less than an hour. He may not remember how he got in the elevator but if he did--and probably even if he didn't--the terrorists would send somebody after them.

OOC: Dregruk, are there ventillation ducts above the great hall area where the party was happening?

As the men rushed into the room, and took over the proceedings, the gunfire echoing around the room as well as the cries from various people, and to Dominic’s ears one of the voices seemed very close and very familiar. He felt her tugging at his arm, her fingers digging into his skin.

“Dominic, what’s happening?” His wife’s voice cut through everything else, bringing his attention to her, her eyes were wide with panic. “What’s going on?”

Looking around briefly, he tried to make sense of the situation they suddenly found themselves in. His hand cupping hers where it held onto him. “It’s all right, Mel.” He gave the young woman an encouraging smile. She had gone a ghostly shade of pale, and he was sure it was not merely the fear that was causing it. “Everything will be fine.”

Turning to Smith, Dominic looked at the older man, he could see something in his eyes, almost a knowledge, as if he knew how to behave in such a situation. His composure and words added courage and a strange calmness to Dominic. He once again smiled at his wife, his eyes telling her there was nothing to fear.

OOC: Maniaca, sure. Be careful up there... some are a little loose. Heh heh heh...

IC:

The screams began to subside as the guests realised the terrorists were not only in control, but had the power of life or death in this situation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this situation does not call for violence at all. We would be most happy to have our demands met with no unnecessary bloodshed. But it all lies on you. Co operate with us fully, and you'll find we can be very friendly people.

"But try to escape, or attack one of my colleagues... and you'll see quite the opposite."

The Commisar looked around, seeing no available exit began to slink back towards a corner slowly. Once he was there, he moved over behind a plant, ducked down and withdrew his gun from it's holster. Then, he began to formulate a plan...

As Griffith listened to the words of the black-clad man, the reality of the situation dawned on him. We're hostages. Which means, in all likelyhood, we're dead. Regardless of culture or geography, government response to a hostage situation consisted of basically the same six words almost anywhere in the world: "We do not negotiate with terrorists."

He'd always thought, in the back of his mind, that the Foreign Affairs department policy forbidding diplomats to bring bodyguards to formal occasions was a little naïve, but he'd never really had cause to worry about it before. If I get out of this, Ms. Kahler and I are going to have a long talk about that policy. For now, though, he'd have to do what he could to survive.

Moving quickly, he unsheathed his sword, knelt down, and slipped it under a table where it would be obscured by the floor-length tablecloth. It won't help me to be seen carrying a weapon I can't use effectively anyway. Now I've got to find Sara before anything happens to her. He stood up, surveying the room and walking carefully toward the last place he had seen her.

Licking his suddenly dried lips and swallowing to ease his now-dry throat, Robert was overcome with curiousity at the situation and let his thoughts take over his mouth. This was unlike how he has envisaged terrorism and hostage situations. He had pictured it to be a blaze of shooting, threatenings, beatings. Yet, he had yet to see the terrorists actually move to harm anyone, just like the man had announced. Speaking up, with a slightly stuttering voice, he asked out to the gunmen,

"What are your demands? What do you want from us?"

The clone of Lord Azazel scowled, he was under no orders to negotiate with anyone, especially terrorists. He was only at the ball to look good and represent Draconis Nightcrawlis without the real Lord Azazel being in any danger.

"There will be no negotiating with terrorists," he spat. "If I should die then you shall have to deal with the consequences."

Obi nodded at Nusz and walked up the stair, "speach my ass.. lame excuse for not wanting to hear some real goddamned music" he grumbeled.
The two women were all over him with their hands, he shook his entire body violently. "Get you' goddamned hands of me! go down! drink some.. I need to take a piss"

He made his way through a corridor and found a bathroom, he entered it, closed the door and did what he had to do. After he was finished, washed his hands and heard some gunfire.
Gunfire?!.. what 'da fuck?!"

He opened up the door, infront of him stood a supriced black-dressed man with a submachine gun.
"Heee-ll no!" Obi said and took the submachine gun in one hand, pushed it away and kicked the man in the crotch. The man slowly sank to the ground, Obi started to kick him hard in the stumich.
"You come to my party? Point guns at me? HELL NO! You aint shit bro'.. you thought you were so though with 'dat gun eh? LOOKS WHOS LAUGHING NOW DUMASS'!"
The main started to cough blood and some drips hit Obis pants.
"What..the..fuck?!.. you know how mutch 'dis shit costs?!"
Obi kicked him hard in his stumich.
"MORE!"
He kicked him agian.
"THAN"
And again.
"YOU"
A fourth time.
"CAN!"
A fifth.
"AFFORD!"
A sixth.
"BIIIAAAIIITCH!"
And a last seventh time, the man passed out, or he was dead due to internal bleedings. Obi didnt know and didnt want to know.
He slowly walked down the corridor, he stoped at the doorway and carefully looked down at the ballroom. The entire party was held hostages by several other men. He looked back at the man. "Oh.. you brought some friends to eh?.. well I know what to do.. I've seen this on TEVE ya mahfackas"
Obi walked back to the bathroom, closed and locked the door. In the cealing was a ventilation shaft, he pulled up a chair that was beside a small pink table. He reached for the vent and pushed away the hatch into the ventilation system. He pulled himselfe up and kicked away the chair at the same time.
I aint stupid as the heros in the movies..
Obi put the hatch back into position and looked around. There was a way to the left, and one to the right. He chose the right, it seemed to be in the direction of the ballroom.
He picked up a cellphone from his pocked and dialed 911. No answer, the number didnt exist.
Why the hell cant nations just have the same emergency number?!
Obi tried to dial some random numbers, and after a few minutes his call got through. An old woman spoke in the other line. "yes?"
Obi cleared his throat, "Hello mam', you wouldnt happend to know the emergency number?"
"Whaaat?" the old woman replied.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THE EMERGENCY NUMBER BITCH!"
She told him the number and then hung on the phone, moments later she had a heart attack.

"Emergency central, what can I do for you?"
"Yea.. there's this party Im at.. big one, all fancy people.. and WE'VE BECOME HOSTAGES!"
"Calm down sir, where are you?"
"Hell.. I dont know, ask my driver"
"where is your driver"
"IN KANSAS! Hell nos' where he's at, probably out gettin layed while Im stuck up here in this goddamned vent!"
"Okay.. calm down.. what is the situation?"
"Well, I get over here right. I meet this dude namned Nusz right. He dont like me, but thats okay, I dont like him either. aaanywaaay, so I go to the bathroom right, and when Im finished.. you know what?"
"No I dont sir, Im afraid you will have to tell me"
"Some dude points a gun at me when I come out.. you know what Im sayin? I mean, Nusz dont have to get all cranky just cuz' I dont like his music right?"
"Riiight sir.. so what has actually happend?"
"We've been fuckin KIDNAPPED WOMAN! Aint you listening to me?"
"I'll connect you with the police department and tell them what you've just told me. dont hang up okey?"
"Yea yea, I'll just sit here 'n do nothing"

Everything had happened so quickly that Minister Crane wasn't exactly sure what was going on. He was vaguely aware of the elevator opening and hearing gunfire. After that he remembered screaming and dropping his drink, then running to his wife's side. Now he was holding her protectively and she was trembling in fear. Terrorist situations were virtually unknown in the Guarde, for the monarchy had a zero tolerance policy. Terrorists were executed on television if caught and their remaining organization was hunted... like animals. Jean Crane never though about terrorists in other countries... until now.

"Everything will be fine, honey. They're probably just looking for some easy money from other nations," He said, trying to comfort his wife. She knew better though, Frostguarde would never give in to terrorists. . . and she began to despair.

Cherry's bodyguards immediately moved in front of her, to shield her.

Well, wouldn't this be a fitting end? A wasted life.

Cherry pushed these thoughts out of her head. She must keep a cool head to deal with the terrorists. She was grateful she hadn't actually had any alcohol.

After greeting Minister Nusz, the Venizelli clan made their way into the main room. Ben Hart and Jonathan Venizelli made their way to the bar. There was nothing better than a few drinks, and they were pretty parched after their journey to the party location. Giuseppe, Susan, and Fiona wandered around the room, but wanted to find the buffet to snack on something. Susan began to beg and cry for something to eat, so Giuseppe picked her up and placed her on his shoulders to perhaps take her mind off food for the brief minutes they took searching for the buffet table. Meanwhile, Elaine sat on a couch in the main room.

"Two beers, please," ordered Ben to the bartender, as he got Jonathan and Ben two mugs of beer fresh from the taps. The two began commenting about their experience so far.

"Ben, I suppose you think this is a good place? Our wives seem to like it... well, at least your wife. Mine's got bad mood swings."

"Fiona had some bad mood swings too when she was with Susan, but don't worry. It's just three more months, right?"

"Yeah... I suppose it's not so bad to handle a wife who's in pain and angry about it."

As Ben and Jonathan began drinking, Minister Nusz began a speech in front of the crowd, welcoming them to Dregruk. However, not long into the speech, three gunshots were fired in the air. The sound of the bullets firing off ringed in the ears of all the Valerian guests, and plain frightening little Susie. She screamed and almost fell off her grandfather's shoulders. Giuseppe brought her down to the ground and both he and Fiona hugged and shielded Susan before the terrorist leader made his announcement that the party would be taking a... drastically different turn from what was planned.

"Oh my God!!!" Elaine screamed as she picked herself up and began running as fast as her pregnant body could to the bar to find her husband. She arrived with the couple, and stayed by their side as they promptly stopped drinking their beers to assert the threat that has taken command of the party.

Giuseppe, the eldest, placed his hand on his sword's hilt. By the appearance of their arms, it might not do any good to attack with a sword. Fortunately, Fiona carried a pistol in her purse; an HK40 to be exact. She didn't want to remove it just yet, though. Attacking these univited party guest could lead to the deaths of everyone in the room. Situations like these, anyway, should be handled by people who knew what they were doing, and not to some woman in a champagne-colored ball gown who hadn't much shooting experience.

"They must want ransom, or maybe they demand the overthrow of every nation's political systems," whispered Giuseppe as he leaned towards Fiona. Giuseppe wished that, hopefully, the VECOD (The Valerian Espionage and Covert Operations Department) could take a whiff of what is happening and maybe they'll send in an operation. Those guys were all well-trained spies... almost like in those James Bond movies, Giuseppe thought.

Falling back on years worth of training and experience Smith took a quick survey of the room to make sure that everyone was accounted for. However, it did not take him long realize that one person was missing from the group, the Danneland representative.

“Where the rep from Danneland” quietly asked Smith to Susan, he could see that she was doing the same thing that he was.

“Can’t see him” answered Susan.

Smith swore under his breath, the Danneland Rep was now the wild card. In a hostage situation the Wild Card was the unknown factor to all involved from the Terrorist, to the Hostages, to even the Anti Terrorists, no one knew what the Wild cards would do, or what the result would be. In this type of situation the Wild Card would often prove to be deadly.

From Smiths observation the Danneland rep had been young, and arrogant, and might be the person that would do something to worsen the situation. A fact that caused him to worry greatly, it was the last thing that they needed at the moment.

Glancing down at his watch he took note of the time. It would not be long until some type of security forces would be arriving; after all for this type of hostage situation to be effective one needed an audience. Either the Terrorist would contact the authorities, or someone in the crowd had already contacted them, but either way they would be arriving soon.

Taking note of the rooms’ layout he began contrasting the up and coming event. First the Terrorist would take control the room and fortify it as much as possible. Once the Security forces arrived they would attempt to contain the Terrorists by blocking off any escape route. Once that was done the security forces would attempt to see into the room and multiple mean. That brought him the next step, negotiations. From there, it would come to down to two options, everyone is freed, or a breach take place.

Smith would prefer the first option, but knew that often it came down to the later. In his mind he began to place points that the security forces would use to look into the room, and then from what points that if a breach occurred where an attack would come from. Should a breach occur he would try to get as many to safety as he could, even at the cost of his own life. The truth was that he was much older then most in the room, and he had lived his life. A glance over at Susan told him that she felt the same way.

During their work in the field, they knew what to expect. More importantly they where able to communicate with each other without have to speak. They had been in far worse situations then this, and had gotten out OK, and they were determined to do the same again.

He could hear someone in the crowd ask the Terrorist what they wanted, he was sure that they would all find that out soon enough.

Sir Isaias Searcey looked around clapping

"Oh wonderful, one of those dinner-detective-murder-shows! How I love those." He said to himself as much as anyone. He called out to the 'actors';

"Say, can I have a part? At Waterford, I did a excellent job of Hamlet. In fact people still today talk about my rendition. I was voted thespian of the year you know. So, what do you say old chap?" He said with a grin.

One of the terrorists began laughing at Searcey's ignorance.

"Yeah, you can have a part all right. Come up here and I'll tell you what it is." Behind his back, he drew the slide back on his pistol, a wicked grin coming to his face.

The leader noticed this and shook his head, with a frown on his face. No killing. Not until their demands had been made.

"Here's your part..." In one fluid movement, he punched the Water Coolian ambassador in the stomach, knocking the wind out of them. "THIS IS NO GAME, FOOL! We mean business, and expect your complete co operation."

"Our demands, you say?" Said the leader to the Falasturian. "They're quite simple; we want our people to be recognised as not only a powerful group, but to have our culture recognised by the government. They've oppressed us too long. And you are all just as bad, coming here to support them!"

"Shall I send out the demands?"

The leader nodded, and the terrorist began speaking into a mobile phone.

Cherry noticed what they said about culture.

Well, then, what are they doing holding me here? Temme's always been tolerant of other cultures. We'd welcome them.

Maybe you should tell them that.

No way. I am not going to get myself shot to tell them that.

Robert spoke up again, his voice becoming a little more constant as he came to grips with the situation.

"But why us? Surely we are of little value in affecting Government decisions?"

Rachel piped up. "Well, this has proved that we are not safe in this country. If we diplomats are not safe, then, logically, other foreign nationals will be loathe to come to a place where their security and safety cannot be guaranteed. In our increasingly interdependant economies, this could deal a severe blow to any of Dregruk's international pretentions." She turned to the terrorist leader. "Am I anywhere near close?"

"True, but we are certain that the Dregruk government would not like the blood of the people who came to this country to start a new age on their hands."

One of the terrorists looked up from his mobile to the leader.

"The Government refuses to accept that we have the hostages under our control. They think we're bluffing."

"Has that phone got a video camera built in?"

"Yes."

"Turn it on."

The leader faced the camera with a vicious look on his face. "Leaders of Dregruk, you dared insult me and my people by accusing us of faking this event. With that, you will see how serious we are."

He grabbed a female hostage (OOC: Anyone can make this woman theirs, or it can just be some random woman) from the crowd by her hair, and forced her onto her knees. With the camera still focused upon him, the man pulled out his pistol and dramatically drew back the slide. He placed the barrell on the back of her head, and pulled the trigger. Blood, gore, skull and brains splattered over the floor, as the headless corpse collapsed to the ground.

"We will execute hostages every hour until you meet our demands!" He yelled, then motioned for the camera to be deactivated.

One of Cherry's bodyguards came up and whispered something in her ear. She sighed. "Should you tell them, or should I?" In response, he went up to one of the terrorists and asked, "Is there a place where I could use the washroom?"

The leader turned and looked the man over.

Eventually, he nodded, and motioned two men to accompany him, fully armed.

The bodyguard scowled. There were two of them; no way could he take them down. Besides, even if he did, that would definitely put Cherry in danger. He relieved his bladder and returned to the hall.

The two guards waited outside patiently. While the bodyguard was relieving himself, one of them spotted a body lying, beaten to death. "Jesus..." He muttered, and decided to tell the leader when he took the hostage back.

When they returned, he walked up to the leader an murmured something in his ear. "Are you sure?" A nod. "Go and secure the area. Take someone with you."

The clones eyes crossed the room from the leader of the terrorist group over to where his two bodyguards stood, neither of them were doing their jobs properly. They would be punished should either of them get out of this alive. His eyes then crossed over to the leader again.

"There must be a way to take him down," he muttered to himself.

Griffith's anxiety turned to panic as he watched the terrorist leader pull a woman from the crowd and blew her away. No, that wasn't her... that can't have been Sara! His eyes scanned the room frantically, desperately... and finally fixed themselves on the young diplomat from Aberden, ashen-faced from the murder she had just witnessed. Griffith relaxed a little and made his way over, trying not to attract too much attention from their captors.

"Look, there's a dome above the front hall. We can hide there, and maybe find a ventillation system above the room where we can observe the situation. Oh, and try and find some heavy blunt object that we can use as a weapon," Kasper advised. The Emperor was listening to Kasper and the terrorists, and had to chuckle.
"Heh, this is gonna be excitin'." Then he heard the one, single gunshot and a splash, like water flying across the room and landing with a smack on the hard floor. "By God...."
"Look, there's a stair. We've got to hurry," Kasper said as he heard frantic footsteps coming from somewhere he couldn't tell. They ran as quietly as possible up the winding staircase. The stairs only went up to the second floor, and as far as they could tell, the great hall was at least three stories high. Across the hall was another stairs. Noticing that the footsteps had dissapated, they walked silently through the hall, but stopped to enter a room it looked like a library, or more precise, a shrine to Dregrukian history. Kasper gave the Emperor a somewhat heavy book. He took for himself the base and ruler of a globe that he had destroyed, weilding it like a scythe. He also pocketed the leg to an aluminum chair that he had wrenched off, and a small knife from "ancient Drugrukian history." They continued to walk quietly up the hall, and then up the stairs, arms in hand and pocket. Kasper told the Emperor to wait, while he tried to tap in to a some kind of audio device in the great hall. He found it in some mobile phone that was being operated in the party room. They continued on the third story, which they speculated would be the top of the room, where they could watch--and be unseen and practically unreachable--from a vent on top of the great hall. They searched a lot of the rooms until they finally found the one with the domed ceiling. And they found what they were looking for. A massive air circulation vent in the bottom corner of the room. They climbed in, and it was merely a small horizontal extension of a vertical vent. Kasper went down first, pressed his back tightly against the back of the vent, and walking vertically down to the bottom of the vertical vent, where the shaft went horizontal to bring air in several places to the vast reaches of the great hall. The shaft was oddly unoperative. They must have been using other means to regulate the temperature. At last he found what he was looking for(again), a vent that was faced down, into the great hall. Unfortunately, this was in the corner of the room, far away from wher the action was. He did see another down facing vent, at an intersection between another vertical duct, which would surely be closer to the terrorists. Kasper crawled back to the vertical duct, and called to the Emperor that things were good. The Emperor wormed the screen that they had pulled open into the duct, slid in under it, and moved down to where Kasper was. "What'd you bring that for?" Kasper asked.
"It's sure to be of some use. I slid a bookcase in front of the open duct so it won't be visible from the door without some close investigation. They crawled down to the next vent. The view was perfect, Kasper stood above the vent into the vertical duct above it, spun around, and lied on the opposite side. They observed the terrorist situation.

Giuseppe covered Susan's eyes as one of the terrorists brought up a woman up front and proceeded in turning her head into a splattering mess. Fiona gasped, while the rest of the Valerian guests just stood still at the bar. Elaine's forehead began to drip with sweat from nervousness. She was nervous about what these terrorists might do, and she was also worried about having a miscarriage. Ben and Jonathan were busy finishing off their beers, looking as if they had not a care in the world.

Giuseppe decided to speak up from the crowd. The elderly man spoke up with a diplomatic, cool voice. He did not want to pose malice and risk himself being killed. "What is your group? I am not very familiar with what group you hail from here in this nation." As he spoke, his granddaughter hugged her mother's left leg. "Don't let them shoot grandpa, mommy," she whispered as Fiona comforted her. Tears began to form in both Susan's and Fiona's eyes.

'Don't get yourself killed, dad,' thought Fiona.

A little time later, Ben and Jonathan had finished their drinks. They began to whisper to each other. What they began talking about was their plan to hatch an escape or to perhaps go out and make contact with the VECOD and see if they can send in agents, pronto.

"So, maybe we can head into the bathroom. I hope the toilet seat are flimsy... they could make good weapons if we use them right!" Ben fathomed as Jonathan nodded in agreement. "Let's see, where are the closest guards?" Jonathan added as he searched the premises around them for guards.

"I'm not gonna die here, not now, not at least without a fight..." thought the Commisar as he saw the woman murdered, "I'll kill that bastard with my bare hands...". He watched the guards lead the man out to the bathroom. "I could take 2 of them if I could suprise them..."

He unbuckled the sword, lied it down and hid his small gun deep within his uniform. He then edged his way back into the crowd trying to avoid attention. After a few minutes he approached the terrorist leader. He tipped his hat and asked in heavily accented english, "Sir, may I please go to the bathroom?"

(OOC: Sorry this is a little late, I hadn't realized the baddies had attacked."

Jenna was unsure of what to do. Her whole life, she'd had a gun on her. Growing up in Perena (basically a penal colony of sorts), she killed a human at the age of 5. She went into the military at a very young age, and kept killing people. Now she was here, without a gun. She had a gun in her jacket, but that had been taken from her before she had even come in.

She muttered under her breath,"Damnit, this was going to be a nice quiet evening."

A shot, and she snapped her head to where it had come from. A woman's head had a hole punched through it by a bullet, brains, blood and bits of bone flying.

These bastards were serious.

"Another guy here needs to take a piss!" Yelled one of the terrorists. The leader looked around, and began feeling suspicious. Too many people were trying to go to the toilet. Surely not all of them had lost control of their bladder?

"Tough. You can all wet yourselves."

Meanwhile, Minister Nusz was hiding behind an overturned table. He was confident that he couldn't be seen from here, and pressed the emergency button on his official cellphone. In less than a second, a gruff voice greeted him on the line.

"What's the emergency, Minister Nusz?"

"There's been a terrorist attack at the party..." He began whispering hurriedly.

Smith watched as the innocent woman was executed, despite the scene he appeared to be unaffected by it. On the outside it he appear to cold, but years of both training and experience had taught him to turn off his emotions. Fear, anger, and panic, emotion usually assorted with type of situation could cloud ones judge, make them do things that they would not usually do.

At the present moment Smith needed to maintain his focus. He gave a small nod to Susan, who nodded in return.

Casually she turned and began talking to both Dominic and Melody. “How are you two doing, are you Ok”

Looking down at his watch he again noted the time, they now had one hour until the next hostage would be killed. In addition word of the event would be spreading, and it wouldn’t be long until the Tribunal was made aware of the situation. This was another fact the caused him to worry slightly.

"At least allow the woman to use the washrooms" yelled Smith in the general direction of the Terrorist leader. "Or allow washroom breaks once every hour. Work with us, and we will work with you. In the end we both benifit"

ooc: do our government know of the hostage situation yet?

One of the terrorists began laughing at Searcey's ignorance.

"Yeah, you can have a part all right. Come up here and I'll tell you what it is." Behind his back, he drew the slide back on his pistol, a wicked grin coming to his face.

The leader noticed this and shook his head, with a frown on his face. No killing. Not until their demands had been made.

"Here's your part..." In one fluid movement, he punched the Water Coolian ambassador in the stomach, knocking the wind out of them. "THIS IS NO GAME, FOOL! We mean business, and expect your complete co operation."


Searcey hit the floor, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He crawled slowly over to a group of other people and sat down, breathing heavily.

As he turned his head towards the armed men, he seen one of them roughly hurl his escort up, the ditzy umm, err - what was her name?

"No!" He said softly, but his voice was soon lost by the echoing gun shot.

As he sat there watching the bloodied corpse fall down to the cold ground, he regretted not finding out her name.

Minister Crane looked furious as he kneeled next to his wife, who had passed out in the armchair she was nestled in before the attack. Mrs. Crane had never been exposed to such violence and did not even like the violent movies that plagued Guardean airwaves. Witnessing that innocent women get executed was simply too much for her. Jean Crane scanned the room, looking for their host the minister, hoping he was getting help somehow. He couldn't spot him, so that meant he was obviously doing some good. He also couldn't spot the three men Elizabeth had been mocking all night. "With that Obi character on the lose we're all going to die... God, I am SO sorry I had that cathedral turned into a stock exchange. If my wife and I survive this, I promise to ask the emperor to give more money to the Pope! Hell, I'll even go back to church EVERY day!" Jean thought to himself.

Rachel turned to the Coolian. Her voice dripped with acidic sarcasm.

"Well done, Mr. Searcey. Yet another masterful display of tact and diplomacy from the Coolians." She sighed, cursing to herself in Weegie. She then proceeded to wipe a stain of blood which had sprayed onto her. THe price you pay for standing next to angry men with guns, really.

"A compromise, perhaps? We will allow the women to use the washroom every hour." Said the terrorist.

"That's right, an attack on the international party!" Whispered Nusz angrily. "We need help right now!"

"Sir, you understand the seriousness of the punishment if this situation doesn't call for a team of Elites?" Asked the voice on the line. With the war with Danneland in full throttle, having a team of Dregruk Elites despatched to a situation that didn't need them was considered an act of treason (By helping the enemy). The punishment was the highest possible in the entire nation, so vile that no one dared think of it unless he'd not eaten his breakfast yet.

"I understand completely. Just send out a team now. They've already executed one hostage, and we've only got 45 minutes before they execute another."

"I'll see what can be done."

"For god's sake, don't phone me back under ANY circumstances!"

Kasper and the Emperor watched closely. "Heh, they're debating over who can use the bathroom, and when," Kasper noted. "There's that lady from Frostguarde, I think it was. She was giving me funny looks all day. I think I might be able to put her out from here, heh."
"No, the spaces aren't wide enough to get even a barrel as tiny as the Delrith a clear shot. But we are three stories up. We might be able to lift up this vent entirely without being noticed," The Emperor replied.
"I got a better idea. I have some shoelaces in my pocket. We can tie the shoelaces around the bars in the vent, quickly turn it through the hole, and lower it down so we can make the shot. We wouldn't have to lower it very much, and since we're so high, up, it will be hard for the terrorists to tell that the vent is disrupted. The only thing we have to make sure is that we make minimal noise, and we have to shoot at a time that we feel is proper, because the terrorists might think one of the hostages shot them, and then they would KILL them. A great time to shoot would be when the hostages finally make a stand against these terrists and start fighting. Then they'd get shot anyway, so we can shoot at the terrists!" Kasper sighed.
"Man, take a breath," The emperor advised. "How many shoelaces have you got?"
"Six. We can use one on each corner so we can control the vent squarely."
The two of them began tying shoelaces on the vent.
"Why do you have shoelaces anyway?"
"For situations like this. You never know when you might need to tie something. I also carry fishing line."
"Stren?"
"Yeah."

Dominic reached behind him, taking Melody’s hand in his, the feel of her fingers touching his flesh reassured him. There was so much violence before them, as each incident mounted up, he could feel her grip tighten, threatening to cut of his blood supply. He turned slightly and saw her face, white as sheet, her eyes wide open with fear. He pulled her towards him and held her in his arms.

“It’s going to be alright, Mel. We are going to get out of this, all three of us.” He smiled kindly at her, but he knew that his eyes had to betray a little of his own concern. At the moment there was nothing any of them could do, the hostages held the upper hand. Then he turned to Smith, looking over his wife’s shoulder. “We’re fine.” His eyes held that look of disbelief and a little hint that showed he was not as unconcerned as he made out for Melody’s sake.

Dominic could feel her trembling in his embrace. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” She moved so she was looking into his eyes, her expression bleak. “We’re not going to get out of this.”

He shook his head slowly. “We’re not going to die. I promise you, we will get out of this.” Looking over her shoulder he nodded to Smith. “We’re all going to get out of this.”

The duo finished tying the laces to the corners of the vent, and they tilted the vent through the hole. The vent was outside of the duct. "Okay, now pull it tight, we aren't doing anything just yet," Kasper advised.
"Allright. Hey, you think the clown gang is gonna' get wind of this and come on down?"
"Somebody in the MIB is gonna' figure this out. But we don't really need them do we?"
"No."

“Trust me dear” calmly, said Susan to Melody “Me and Smith have been in far worse situations then this, and have gotten out alright”

Susan decide to try and distract Melody from all that was going around “I find that best way is took think about all those that you have home, it helps you be strong.” She reached into bag and pulled out a number of photo’s and began showing them to Melody “These two here are my grand children Makenzie, and Jason. Makenzie is four, and Jason just turned two.” Explained Susan, while switching photo’s “And this here is my only daughter. Poor dear lost her husband just over a year ago, but has found the strength to move on. Do have any family back home?”

Noticing that a Woman had passed out Smith made his way over “Is she ok, do you any help, my wife is a doctor?”

Cherry heard them. She would have, except she had no family. A flashback, unbidden, came to her mind.

OOC: Cherry's background is similar to Fiddler on the Roof, only it's urban instead of rural, and they're not quite so poor.

IC:
Her name was Chava Goldstein back then. She'd been listening to her niece, who was 7 then and shared her name, read. As Tzeitel had introduced her to a man whom she was expected to marry, she'd burst out, informing them that she'd secretly been seeing Hans, and that she planned to marry him. She left the house, and had never looked back. How old was Chava, her niece, now? 15?

Arriving at Hans' house, she'd found him ready to go out with another girl.

"Hans? How could you do this? We were supposed to be married."
"Chava, when did I tell you this?"
"Yesterday. You proposed to me on bended knee and everything."
"Oh, right. I have so many girls, it's hard to keep track."

With that, she'd left.

She realized that she hadn't relived that day since.

"Wanna' shoot that evil woman?" The Emperor asked.
"Dude, I was just joking."
"Oh yeah...of course you were, so was I."
"Man, those terrorists aren't doing anything. I'm gonna' fall asleep up here if they don't do something. There's that snobby Nusz guy behind a table calling the cops. Wanna' put money on whether he's shot?"
"I'm not a betting man."
"Yeah, neither am I. These guys say they want their organization recognized. Like there's a chance in hell that'll happen. They just wanna' kill some people. How much longer 'till the next hostage?"
"40 minutes."
"Man, I could just take a nap."

The two of them lied there, having not shot ANYONE or dropped ANYTHING from the ceiling.

"Hey, I bet if I threw this knife down to the floor, and the blade dropped on somebody, it would kill them," Kasper contemplated.
"Yeah, me too."
"Better keep hold of it though, in case those terrorists come back after us."
"Hey, how are we gonna' get out of here?"
"I don't know. We should have gotten a rope or blanket or something so we could have dramatically dropped from the ceiling."
"Well, we have this extra screen, I'm sure it could act as some kind fall breaker."
"Yeah, like break your legs."

Melody looked at the photos that Susan showed her, her hand never relaxing its grip on Dominic’s. Her eyes focused on the images before her, her free hand moving protectively to her abdomen, as she looked at the two children smiling back from inside the photographs. “They are lovely.” She looked at Susan and smiled. “I have no one at home, except my parents of course. It’s just Dominic and me at the moment.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought of their impending child.

Smiling as he watched Susan work wonders on his wife, Dominic began to follow the situation around him. He heard Smith’s voice, and watched as he walked over to the fallen woman. Shaking his head, wondering why he would want to do something that could draw attention not only to him, but to Susan too. Dominic kept his eyes on the man who had been standing beside him only moments before, then turned to Susan. “Is he always like that?”

Stillwater stayed close to the general as he made his way to the bar, ordering his usual shot of bourbon...

“Like what” asked Susan, quickly she glanced over her shoulder and saw Smith trying offer some assistance, and realized to what Dominic was referring to “Oh that”

She pulled out another photo and handed it Dominic. This picture was much older then the others that she had shown. It was a group of youths huddled to together on a warm summer day. “To understand Smith and I you have to first understand that photo.” For a moment her mind wondered trying to figure out where to begin. “The kids that you see in that photo are in Tappee known as a ‘Prosapia’. You see in Tappee, when one becomes an Orphan that are taken in by the Government and trained from and early age to part of the Elite Special Forces division known as the Second X. Those in the SX that show exceptional talent are recruited by Tappee’s intelligence service know as the First X. From there they attend the academy, and the top eight form a Prosapia, they are the best of the best, the type that have no fear, the kind that eat death for breakfast.” She paused for a moment “the couple on the end there is Smith and I, out of the eight that you see there we are the only two that are still alive. We have seen and done things that you can not possible imagine, all in the line of duty for our country. However, those were days of old, we are not as young as we once were, so if we are to face our ends on this night then we will do so with out fear. But in the mean time we will try to help as many as we can, in an attempt to repent for our past sins.”

Noticing that a Woman had passed out Smith made his way over “Is she ok, do you any help, my wife is a doctor?”

Jean looked up from his wife and regarded Smith. "Thank you for offering, but I think she'll be fine. She has always been uneasy around gore and she just saw a woman shot in the head. Perhaps your wife could just take a quick look anyway, it would put my mind at ease," said the minister. "Oh, I don't even know your name. I'm Jean Crane."

Smith shook Jeans hand “My name is Smith Allenson, and there is no need to thank me. If we are going to get out this we are going to have to work together. Right now the best thing that we can do is remain calm. I’m going to go and talk to wife and send her over, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

Rachel turned to the Coolian. Her voice dripped with acidic sarcasm.

"Well done, Mr. Searcey. Yet another masterful display of tact and diplomacy from the Coolians." She sighed, cursing to herself in Weegie. She then proceeded to wipe a stain of blood which had sprayed onto her. THe price you pay for standing next to angry men with guns, really.

Searcey rolled his eyes in an elaborate gesture.

“How many times do we have to tell your Socialistic scum, it's Lord Searcey. Please do try and get it right, you insolent young lass.” He contemplated whacking her on the shins with his cane, but thought better of it, choosing instead to shuffle over to the group from Magnus Valerius.

"I say, jolly bad luck about all this then, what." He said in chatty, but quiet tone.

One of the terrorists was franticly whispering to the leader. The leader kept shaking his head, causing the whispering to become more feverish.

"They're plotting to kill us! I'm sure I heard someone talking about it! We need to make examples of them!"

"We do not need any unnecessary violence. It will sabotage the mission."

The terrorist looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled out his sub-machine gun. He aimed it at the crowd. "JUST TRY AND STOP ME!" He screamed, then began slaughtering the people at the front. Two loud gunshots followed, and the terrorist fell to the floor with blood spluttering out of his neck.

The leader was disgusted by the amount of people that had been killed. He looked at the screaming survivors, who thankfully still outnumbered the corpses, and said "I apologise sincerely for my colleague's actions."

Rachel laughed. "You expect me to recognise a feudalistic honorific? Good luck with that, dear." She turned away as he got up off of his feet, to converse again with her compatriot. Unfortunately, he seemed just about to put himself in a fair bit of trouble.

John, who had been silently sizing up the situation from the middle of the various peoples at the party, sneered at the terrorist leader. "Some leader of men you are, if you can't keep them under control. Apologise all you want, but that's ineffectual leadership in my book." The leader froze in indignation, and the atmosphere turned even chillier than it had been before, both men staring at each other with dislike.

Rachel hissed at John. "Stop it now, or you'll get us killed. No time for macho posturing now. You're not in the army any more." She flicked her eyes up and smiled at the terrorist, her calm exterior not showing the terror and tension that was building up inside of her. "Please excuse my friend here. He's a little under the weather. It makes him slightly cranky, right John? John?" Her eyes pleaded with him a second, and he nodded slowly, not for a second taking his eyes of the terrorist leader. "Must be something I ate." he growled, and he stepped back into the crowd.

The leader made a mental note to himself: If he tries to challenge my leadership again, I'll kill him.

Cherry was upset.

Those people were good, nice people. Why did they have to die when I'm still here? Me, a total failure, gets to live out her life. . .for now. . .while they die.

Jumping slightly, Melody looked on in horror as the gunmen opened fire on the crowd, taking down several innocent bystanders. Her fingers now digging deep into Dominic’s hands, as she stared as if hypnotised at the fallen bodies, shaking uncontrollably from head to foot.

Dominic looked at her, then pulled her into his arms, protecting her from harm. He turned his attention to Cherry, who was looking equally as alarmed. He smiled at her kindly. “Are you alright? There is no need to worry, someone will help us out of this.” He did not believe this himself, but he knew it was what his wife needed to hear, and perhaps Cherry did too.

Cherry made up her mind. She was going to do something to stop the terrorists.

She looked around the room.

The empty bottles. . .chairs. . .that's about it for weapons. Oh, wait. . .

She pulled out her cell phone. It was the first time she had ever really used one. She called one of her bodyguards over.

He put the phone to his ear and began to talk. Cherry picked up an empty bottle and crept over to the terrorists.

If I die, at least I don't die meaninglessly

Smith sat down in a chair and began to rub his temples, he glanced over at Susan, thing were beginning to slide out of control rather quickly. At present rate they would dead before the first hours deadline.

Suddenly Susan jumped to her feet made her way to of the guest that had been shot. It didn’t take smith long to realize that at least one person had been unfortunate to survive the attack. Smith ran to her side.

Ripping off her sleeve she was using to stop the bleeding. The wound was located on the upper chest. “The lung has collapsed” said Susan quietly as Smith joined her side. She looked up from the patient “At present rate”

“What’s you name” asked Smith

John was realising that diplomatic events were a lot more difficult than warfare. Especially ones that ended with people getting shot. He cursed the fact that he no longer carried a weapon; although, he conceded, even with one he could not hope to make a dent in the enemy numbers, especially if he didn't want any of the civilians to be shot... after all, he was a civilian now, more or less. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw one of the younger hostages acting oddly, an empty bottle in hand. Suddenly, he saw... the way she was acting, the way she was moving; she was going to try to attack them. Brave, very brave, but the Weegie people had a saying that made sense: "Sialfaílchan, íla chánniach resch'án cal'ian, failé nagh foilté." - "Bravery and stupidity are only differentiated by luck." It was sheer folly, pure suicide.

He moved over to her, silently, and put a hand on her shoulder before she acted.

"I hope you're just going to ask for a refill." he said, solemnly.

Griffith had almost reached Sara when one of the madmen leveled his submachine gun and started spraying bullets into the crowd. He saw her fall, called out, and pushed past the people still betwen them. Kneeling down, he asked "Are you hit?"

Davidson shook her head. "No... legs just gave out." Her normally tanned complexion had paled to nearly white, her breathing was shallow and rapid, and she was shaking. "Who are these people? They march in here demanding the recognition of their culture... and don't even tell us what culture that is? What... what are we supposed to do with that? I can't..." she trailed off

"Hey, kid, take it easy. This could be frustrating or comforting depending on how you look at it, but the fact is there's nothing either of us can do right now. The terrorists don't have us here so they can negotiate with us, we're just the bargaining chips. However, I don't think the government of Dreguk is going to be too receptive to this kind of bargaining. Right now, we need to think about what we're going to do if and when they send a team to spring us."

Sara didn't look comforted. "And what if they don't?"

Griffith shrugged. "Then I guess we're on our own. We'll think of something."

That didn't sound very convincing, he thought, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

(OOC: Dreguk, how long before word of this starts getting out to various national governments, if at all?)

Cherry scowled at the Weegian man and put her fingers to her lips.

OOC: I hope I got the nationality right.

After a moment, a rogue terrorist whipped out his submachine gun and began firing upon the guests up in front, where Fiona, Giuseppe, and Susie were located. Luckily, they weren't too far up and when that very terrorist was put out of his misery by his leader, the three Valerians were still pretty hidden among the remnants of the crowd.

As Minister Searcey, the Coolian diplomat or whatever, closed in on the small Valerian group, Fiona uttered a sigh and wondered what an idiot like that would choose to mingle with them! He might get them killed with his stupidity. A vile plan hatched in her head as she got just close enough to the Coolian to set up a scheme. As soon as she approached him near enough she screamed out, "LECHEROUS SCUM!"

Giuseppe's ears perked up as he heard his daughter's voice cry out. It was agony to him to have his daughter taken advantage of, and he immediately rushed to her side. "This foul man... he grabbed my ass!" she said in a voice that brought out the sympathy in surrounding guests. "How DARE you manhandle my daughter!" Giuseppe said under his breath, scathing and with immediate hatred towards Searcey as he flung a hard punch at the Coolian's face. Susie stood behind her mother and chanted on, "Beat him up, grandpa!" Giuseppe spat on the Coolian after delivering his blow. Before walking away with his daughter and granddaughter to a different sector of the crowd, he added viciously, "I hope they execute you next. You can go to Hell, for all I care, you perverted bastard. She has a daughter, for God's sake."

Meanwhile, Ben and Jonathan approached any nearby terrorists. Elaine just watched from the bar as she continued to sweat profusely.

"Hallo... well, sorry to bother you, but my friend here had a little too much to drink," said Ben as Jonathan played the role of a drunk about to blow his dinner all over the guard. "He needs to use the lavatory immediately... otherwise, I really do think it won't look pretty to have vomit all over the place here."

The plan was to have Jonathan check the bathroom for any possible exits or air vents of any sort to get out of the palace and get to a phone to contact the V.E.C.O.D. as soon as possible. Of course, if there was not a route at all, maybe Jonathan can unscrew the toilet seat or something and bash the brains out of the guard that escorted him.

Cherry continued to sneak. She made a hand signal to her bodyguard. He yelled at the top of his voice, "I'm telling you, we're being held hostage!"

At that moment, the two terrorists who'd been sent away to find whoever killed one of their numbers returned, dragging Obi behind them. "We found him!" One shouted, as they walked towards the leader. "This one was hiding in an air vent."

The leader landed a kick squarely into the stomach of Obi, shouting at him for what he'd done.

Meanwhile, the Dregruk government had sent out a message to the governments of all the people held hostage. It explained what had happened, what was being done about it and why it wasn't their fault.

"You vile..." Kick, "...turd!" Yelled the leader, continuing his punishment of the rapper. "I'm going.. to..."

Then, the lights went out. As the terrorists looked around, a few flashes lit up the room momentarily, and the terrorist leader collapsed to the ground, with several bulletholes in his face.

In the space of a few seconds, a team of Dregruk Elites dropped through the roof with their SMGs, and with the help of night-vision goggles, opened fire on the terrorists inside the room.

Jean hadn't known what happened, but he did know it was very dark and guns were going off all over the place. He did what he thought was best, he picked his wife out of the chair, flipped the thing over to use as a barricade, and used himself as an extra shield in case bullets passed through the chair. If he died, at least she would live on.

"[The minister speaks a prayer in the ancient Guardean tongue,]"

-----------------------------
Meanwhile in Frosternesse...

"A WHAT?!" Emperor Merefrost shouted into the telephone.

"A terrorist situation, sire. The Minister Crane and his wife are among the..."

"I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, I AM NOT DEAF, CUR!" screamed the emperor at the poor fool on the phone. "What do these Dregruk people intend to do about this GRAVE insult to our honor?!"

"They said the situation is not their fault, but-"

"Not their fault my ASS! This would NEVER happen in Frostguarde! SOME people can take care of their-" the emperor started ranting.

"Your Excellency, they are handling the situa-"

"Did you interrupt me?" the emperor asked.

"*gulp* Sire I was just trying to-"

"Tell the Dregruks that if any of my people are harmed, I want someone's head on a silver platter. Preferably a terrorist one, understand? And do not let news of this escape to the press until the minister and his wife arte safe here in the palace and the terrorist CURS are all rotting in pools of their own blood!" shouted Merefrost into the phone before slamming it down.

[Edit: Added emperor's reaction to the news.]

Meanwhile, in Temme. . .

Maureen June had just recieved the news. Sasha Cheenin was away; it was up to her. Unfortunately, Temme didn't really have anyone specially trained to release the hostages. Temme just wasn't the kind of nation with hostages, not since a long time ago.

She gulped down a pill. Focussed, she called the general of the Temme army. Maybe he'd have a clue.

At the ball. . .

Cherry took advantage of the chaos to whack one of the terrorists over the head with her bottle. As she did so, a bullet grazed her arm. She clutched it in pain.

The Maniacan pair was in the duct, with mixed feelings about the outburst by that terrorist. Although a bunch of people got shot up, it saved them from falling asleep, losing the grip on the vent, and falling two stories to their death. Besides, the situation killed off a terrorist. They then saw Obi being dragged into the room by terrorists. "Wow, they got him. Hiding in an air vent then?" Kasper inquired
"Yeah."
"Now who would want to do that?" Kasper snickered.
"Don't worry, we're on the third floor. Obi was in the first floor bathroom," The Emperor noted, as Obi was being violently beaten. Then the shaft violently shook, and the lights went out. The shaking caused the pair to drop all but one of the corners on the vent. Not being able to see anything, Kasper hung on to the fourth shoelace for life. Holding his head up, he searched in one of his pockets for a small flashcard, found it, and pressed it on. It lit up the immediate area. He yanked the vent back up, and they grabbed it back into place.
"Man, what happened?" Kasper asked over the gunfire.
"Based on the duct shaking I can say that someone ruptured the ceiling structure. The lights then went out, which in a large hostage situation, usually means a spec ops team with NVGs. So we're being rescued," Emperor Catsendt said.
"Good, I see you've been studying," Kasper said as he turned off the SAKA--the static interference was now overwhelming, and besides, the only thing to hear was gunfire.
"That was quick. Why didn't they just come sooner?"
"They didn't get the information, and they had to plan. It probably took them a long time to get up on the roof."
"So what do we do now?"
"We can't do anything until the lights come back on."
"Then we're finished?"
"Yeah."
"AAARRRRGHHH!"
"Yeah, I know how you feel. We spent this whole situation up here in the vent and didn't get to see any action. That was pretty cool with the soda can back there though."
"Yeah, I know."
"And besides, I don't think we've seen the last of this terrist group."
"Yeah, way to set it up for a sequel: Dregruk Ballroom Massacre 2: Revenge of the Terrorists!"
"Funny stuff."

Moment after the lights went out Smith knew what was going on. Unfortantly due to the fact that both Susan and him where attending to one of the victims that had been shot earlier they found themselves separated from the main group. Grabbing a nearby table he flipped it to the ground using it as a shield.

Through the chaos he could hear bullets hitting the table. He had been in a number of fire fights, and like all them before it seemed like time was standing still

Meanwhile in Tappee, the Core was bustling with activity. The Core to put it simply with Tappee’s brain. Located over ten miles underground it was designed to withstand every conceivable act. From the Core one could send or receive information from all military and intelligence assets both on and off the planet. Due to today planned events, information was quickly being moved all over the place.

“What the current situation?” Asked Jade “Someone talk to me!”

Jade was the Chair of Tappee’s Intelligence Tribunal that made her the Commander and Chief of Tappee’s armed forces, like and Commander she wanted to know the status of her forces was. Despite her young age she had earned the respect of all those around her. For the past two generations her family had ruled Tappee, helping it through some of it most darkest time. Like the Iaceo war before it, the Orion Conflict test the will of Tappee. Through a number of screens she watched as Tappee forces launched a desperate offensive and the planet of Steel Butterfly. They had a low probability of success, and estimated losses in the millions. She had been forced to act due to situations that where now beyond her control, her enemies had under estimated her resolve to see this through, they had taken the life of her husband and now they would pay. Even her own father had asked her to stand down, but to no avail, they had taken the life of her husband and now they would pay.

Beside her stood Jon Anerton Tappee’s president. “Into the belly of the beast” said Jon casually, “They should begin to engage Imperial force soon” out of the corner of his eye he saw Harold Armstrong, Tappee’s foreign minister enter the room. Harold motioned for Jon to come over “Excuse me” he said while stepping away.

“There’s been a situation” said Harold as Jon approached

“What kind of situation?” asked Jon curious as to what would be more important then the war that was going on around them.
Harold leaned in so that he could whisper to Jon “There’s been a hostage situation in Dregruk. Two of our people were among the hostages; they have already killed at least one person, and will do so every hour until their demands are meet. They are demanding to recognized by the local government.”

“Sounds like a local matter to we, as long as they do everything in their power to protect the hostages. All our diplomats sign a non hostage clause.” Interrupted Jon. He felt that there was more pressing matter at hand then this.

“Thats the problem” quickly answered Harold. “They were not members of the diplomatic corp.”

“Then who are the hostages” Jon, from the look on Harold face he could tell that he would not like the answer.

“The hostages are none other Smith Allenson, and Susan Clrackson” answered Harold

Suddenly Jon felt sick to his stomach, and realized why Harold was so concerned. He glanced over Jade then back to Harold, his mind was racing “Do they have any idea of who they have” Jon watched as Harold shock his head. “Under no circumstances can we tell Jade of this.”

Harold went to object but was cut off the Jon.

“We know how she will react to this” all one had to do was look around to see the results of her anger. “Contact the Dregruk government. Tell them that we are going to hold them responsible of the safety of our people and that we are going to send some of our special forces to help assist them.”

“You..” Harold stuttered “You can do that”

“I just did” shot Jon, glanced back over at Jade “Or perhaps you would have her deal with the situation, and we both know how that will end”

*BRRT* *BRRT* *BRRT*

The Elites' long and arduous training was beginning to really shine, as they picked off the terrorists one by one with short, three round bursts. Each man kept the whole room in his sight, making sure no one was grabbed and held as a last minute bargaining chip.

The gunfire soon began to subside, as the Elites became certain of the success of the operation.

"Alpha, clear."
"Bravo, clear."
"Delta, clear."

"Good work, guys." Came the voice of the team leader over the radio. "Touch down and see to the friendlies."

The team zipped down on their lines, touched the ground and unclipped their belts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're here on behalf of the Dregruk government to make sure everyone is safe. We'd like to ask that any injured persons, or anyone in a critical condition step forward now." Came the electronically altered voice of the team leader.

Cherry sat up as best as she could and waved her one good arm. "I got shot trying to hurt one of the terrorists."

"Alright. Come over here." The team leader said, with a wave of his arm. "Anyone else?"

She stood up with the aid of a chair and walked over there, the blood staining her dress.

Minister Crane pushed the chair off of him and looked around the room, seeing nothing but the dead terrorists and the Dregruk Elites. He spoke from his heart and few have uttered wiser words, "Holy shit! I'm not dead!" He started laughing and turned to his wife, who had now woken up. "We're not dead, honey!"
"Huh? What happened?" she asked, dazed. He just laughed more and hugged her. She gasped and pointed to Jean's leg and shouted, "Jean! Your leg's bleeding! You've been shot!" "Who cares! We're alive!" He said, and continued laughing to himself. "Remind me to take a vacation when we get home, dear."

"Could someone help my husband? He's hit in the leg and I think he's gone mad," she said to the Elite. "Hey, who're you calling mad?!" the minister asked, hurt for a moment, but then called out to the team leader himself, "It's just a scratch... or a large bullet hole, but I'm sure there are others in need of more aid than myself."

Sir Searcey lurched forward. It wasn't his day.

"Oh me, please help me! That brute hit me, he hit me!" He exlaimed. "I want him arrested at once!" He said pointing a shaking finger at the Magnus Valerian.

"Well, that was quick," Griffith said, picking himself up off the floor, then helping Sara to her feet. "Not hurt, are you?"

"Not at all... and that surprises me a bit. I really didn't think we were getting out of that one." Sara's relief was obvious. The color had returned to her face, and though she still shook from the effects of the adrenaline in her system, she had clearly regained her composure. "I'd better go help the people who werer injured."

"How again?" Griffith looked confused.

"Don't you remember? I became a doctor instead of a diplomat. After tonight, I'm wondering if I made the right choice."

"I'd say you did," the Treasurer-Secretary said. "If you were a doctor, who'd be volunteering to help the wounded here?"

"Good point. I'd better get to it." Sara approached one of the Elites. "Excuse me, sir. I have medical training, and with your permission, I'd like to assist with the wounded."

Griffith, meanwhile, retrieved his sabre from under the table. Blast. The sword's blade had apparently suffered an unlucky hit from a stray bullet, and was now noticeably bent about halfway from the point. Andrew's going to be pissed.]

Jenna looked down. She had been careless. A bullet had glanced her shoulder, leaving a long and bloody cut. She grabbed a nearby table clothe and pressed it hard to her shoulder.

"Shit. Jacen would be laughing at me right now." She made light of the situation, knowing that she really shouldn't.

"There's a team of medics on their way, so do whatever you can before they get here. After that, we've got orders to evac everyone here."

The Elite looked down slightly at the Coolian who was moaning. "Sir, this isn't our problem. We're here to get you out. Do whatever the hell you want to him in your own damn country, OK?"

The Elite pointed to Jenna and minister Crane, then waved them over. As the came over, he turned to another Elite and said, "Start identifying the bodies. Do the terrorists first, then the hostages. There might be more of this group out there."

"Yes sir."

The Elite walked over to a body that was still clutching a pistol; the corpse of the terrorist leader himself. He took a blood sample, then inserted the vial into a smal computer that he kept in his jacket. The screen flashed "Checking Records". The little computer would check the DNA of every citizen of Dregruk, to see if it matched up with the sample taken.

After a few minutes, the machine made a loud sound, and the Elite looked down at it. "Uh... sir?"

The team leader jogged over and looked at the screen. "Unrecognised DNA sample. Check known international files?" The Elite looked for approval from his leader, then tapped the "Yes" button.

They waited for several minutes, watching the screen intently as the little wheel spun, indicating the computer was still searching.

*BING*

They looked at the screen, then looked at each other. "What the hell...?" Said the leader.

"Frank Peter Gregory. Urgilia Special Forces."

The End

(OOC: Thanks to everyone who made this RP work! Look out for "The Power of One: Part 2" soon!)

Kasper and the Emperor were relieved to see that the situation had been resolved. Then they realized everyone was leaving. "Wai....Don't leave us up here!" Kasper yelled. He was unheard or ignored. "God...."
"Well, that's the way the cookie crumbles when you climb in air ducts to avoid being shot by terrorists."
They traversed the air duct system until they finally dropped into a room. It was the first floor bathroom. They found their way back to the great hall, where they found Mr. Nusz.
"Hey, bud, thanks for the help," Kasper said.
The Emperor noticed something. "Hey, look, the vent stayed up there."
"Yeah, imagine that." Kasper removed the chair leg from his pocket, dropped the globe spine, and hurled the chair leg up at the vent. It was jarred loose, and came crashing down. Kasper took a few minutes to undo the shoelaces and place them back in his pocket. He then drew the knife from his pocket, and hurled it up at the air duct. The knife stuck squarely in the back of the shaft. "Get some good windows next time the snow comes around." They turned and walked to the door, after Kasper picked up the globe spine again.
"What are you taking that for?"
"A souvenir."
"You want to remember this trip?"
"Yeah, you're right. What a waste of an evening. I'm never coming to Dregruk again."

OOC: That was over rather quickly.

[ooc: It's not over, there's a part two]

OOC: And, if Part 2 works out alright, a part 3 as well!

can you send me a TG as to how part 2 relates to one, so that I have some idea of whats going on with my character. otherwise, I'm going to bring them home, as Ihave other plans for them

All sent. If anyone else needs something like it, feel free to ask.

Were we all supposed to get telegrams? Because I don't think I got one....

Don't panic. I only sent one to Tappee so he knew if his characters were needed or not. The official telegrams will go out when part 2 rolls around. Which could be anytime between tomorrow and doomsday.

OOC:

Count me in for Part 2.

IC:

Jonathan and Ben's plan failed. It failed because it seems that Minister Nusz called upon a squad of elite troops to eliminate all of the terrorists. Ben and Jonathan stepped back as the Dregruk Elites opened fire on the terrorists and soon eliminated them as quickly as they had taken over the party. Elaine, back at the bar and watching Jonathan and Ben, sighed in relief. She was free from the terrorists, and now she knew, at least for now, that she won't miscarry.

Meanwhile, as the Coolian pointed a finger at Giuseppe and called for his arrest, the Dregruk Elite whom replied to Searcey showed no remorse for the Coolian's bruised ego and face. Giuseppe snickered as Fiona cradled Susie in her arms. Fiona was relieved to have escaped this situation alive. The Venizellis all reunited and then grouped together and looked around at the carnage that had taken place here this night. Maybe this was the beginning of something much more dire and disastrous.

Meanwhile, in the Magnus Valerian Capital,

If it was the beginning of something, it seems that the V.E.C.O.D. will somehow involve itself to protect the Venizellis. Emperor Alexander II was out swimming in his private pool when an agent dressed in an immaculate black suit and black shades approached him. Her long blonde hair swayed behind her as she approached.

"My Liege, there's been a tragedy in Dregruk. Some terrorists have took control over the international party that was held there. I've also gotten word, though, that the Dregruk Government managed to quell those terrorists."

The emperor looked blankly as he pulled up to the side of his pool. His arms rested on the marble fringes as he replied, "Make sure our citizens are protected at all costs. Get two other agents together and insure the safety of the Venizellis if they get mixed up in something again."

The agent saluted the emperor and ran off to a phone booth not far away to contact the VECOD office. She knew just who to bring for the trip. "Headquarters, this is Agent Foxxy. Send Agents Y-190 and Z-16 to me, pronto." Agent Foxxy, otherwise known as Agent Amanda Eastbrook, had called together her two friends, Agent Zach Vardane and Agent Joseph Brentwood.

OOC: How long, IC, will the time between part I and II be? If there's enough time, I'd like Cherry to make her peace with her family.

Roar

OOC: I'd love to be included in version II. Just saying something in case you weren't planning on TG'ing everyone from this one. Now for some final IC comments.

IC:
Minister Crane winced as the medics bandaged up his leg, the medic noticed and stopped tightening the wrap. "You're all taken care of minister,"" said the medic, flatly. He had probably seen countless emergencies to be so cool, then again it was just one gunshot. Jean hoped no one back home would make a big fuss over things, but he knew the Emperor had quite the temper...
"Thank you," said Crane, as he nodded solemnly in appreciation. Jean rejoined his wife and, with effort, found Minister Nusz before they made any further plans to depart.

"It really was a pretty good evening, Nusz. It was a pity these rogues had to ruin your speech. If it means anything, Frostguarde will gladly offer aid to Dregruk in pursuit of these villains. ...We understand your resources are stretched elsewhere and we’d rather not let a few madmen close the door on a friendship that hasn’t even gotten the chance to start yet."

OOC: How long, IC, will the time between part I and II be? If there's enough time, I'd like Cherry to make her peace with her family.

OOC: At the very, very, very least, it would be 7 hours. But that takes a lot of things as granted, such as everyone getting back home safely, explaining what's happened, having a meeting to work out a plan of attack and so on.

At the most, 2 days. I was going to use 1, but if you need 2 to finish off your character's business, I'd be happy to accommodate you.

IC:

The minister managed a weak smile. "Ah, it doesn't matter, does it? I mean, we were all united tonight against a common enemy... isn't that basis enough for a good and solid friendship? Anyway, I somehow get the impression that this isn't over. Not by a long shot. Our government will be wanting blood, and I daresay so will the governments of everyone else here."

OOC: I think it can work in 1, if her wound isn't too serious.

Dominic put his arm about his wife, sighing heavily as he watched the medic do their business. He let his eyes wander around the room, his gaze falling upon the dead and injured, saying a silent thank you to whoever had saved them. He could feel Melody trembling in his arms, and tightened his hold. He would have to report this incident to the Empire, if the news had not got out about it already.

[ooc: I would like to take part in Part Two]

I'm sorry.

It's my home computer - we finally stuck a modem in it and my dad decided that we couldn't use his laptop to use the Internet anymore. Then something went horribly, gruesomely wrong with it - and I can't log on. I can get into NationStates but try as I might I can't access the forums. And that's it. I know I should have TG'd the major people but I... mouthed off to my father... and I got sorta punished. So it's partly my fault. I hope you had an awesome RP right here without me.

The two of them drove their fast cars onto a boat waiting to take them back to Maniaca. It was a fast boat. When it went VROOOOM! it really took off. The engine could be quieted after the original startup. Off they took, into the black water and blue sky.
"Man, I need a nap."
"Hey, Captain!"
"Yes sir?"
"What's the ETA?"
"5-7 hours, depending on the conditions."
"Not bad. Keep doin' a good job!"

OOC: Sorry for sounding like a 5 year old, but I accidentally took a nap and I'm all out of wack and my eyes are hurting and everything.....

Susan rested her head on Smith shoulder, the two were sitting on the steps leading up to the building.

"You know I think that we are getting to old for this" proclaimed Susan.

She was rigth, this was a game that should be played by those much younger then they "I wonder why it took us so longer to realize. First thing that we should do when we get back is take a vaction.


OOC: I have no intention of in particating in Part two

Part 2 (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=6894145#post6894145)

If you're still interested, please join in.

[ooc: Just a question before participating, but are we actually going to be doing anything in Part 2, as Part 1 was over too quick to allow anyone to do anything other than stand by opened mouthed?]

OOC: Part 2 is more action-orientated than Part 1. Consider Part 1 a glorified introduction.