NationStates Jolt Archive

Ministry of Trade, Cairo

Auctionmaster Edmund Wilson entered the room where the auction was to be held, holding the bulletproof glass cage in which the egg was displayed. Behind him were two heavily-armed soldiers to protect the valuable antique. He looked over the still-empty room. The bidders would be let in soon, the auction would begin shortly after.

A security guard at the entrance of the ministry was given the job of checking everyone who wanted to enter. Name, current country/place of residence, and governmental or corporational (or even private) affiliation. In other words - who they were bidding for. A few had been let through by now - after a thorough check for any hidden weapons - representatives from corporations or institutions from Valinon, The Most Glorious Hack, Demo-Bobylon, The Ctan and Fodmodmadto. More would come. Wilson oversaw the delegates from the interested parties as they entered the auction room, with the egg now displayed on a table, the two guards standing on either side of the glass cage. The auction would begin in a few moments.

Or in other OOC words: get here now if you haven't done so yet and still want to enter. Please RP a bit; you need someone actually there, and with known name and affiliation to bid.

Alysa smiled at the guard as she stepped up to the security guard, handing over her papers: a Federation passport. "Alysa Anderson of the Hack via GMC. I'm here on my own; 'private affiliation'." After her credentials were verified, and she passed the security check, she made her way inside, admiring the egg before taking a seat close to the front for the auction.

The auctionmaster looked over the nearly-empty room. Apart from Alysa Anderson, only a few people from within the Brotherhood had shown up. He sighed. The Minister of Trade wouldn't be pleased. Anyway, it's time to start the auction, regardless the low amount of interest he thought.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the auction of this Fabergé egg, one of the most unique pieces of art in the world" he spoke. "Made in 1885 for Alexander III, this beautiful egg-shaped antique..."

Thirty minutes later

"And now we come to the auction of this valuable. The starting price for this item is one-hundredthousand credits. Any bidders?"

He eyed up the security guard forbiddingly, and shoved his papers over.

"Hattairat Cheqov, Ministry of Trade, Fodmodmadtol. If you don't mind, I have to fcking bid.."

He scuffed his shoe along the floor boredly, and glanced over to the egg. At least the room was empty, not many bidders to compete with. The security guard handed back the papers, and he snatched them back to his pocket. Turning on heel he walked into the room, raising his hand.

"One hundred ten thousand credits."

He plopped into the closest chair, allowing himself to slump.

Harry looked at his watch, "Sh*t im late" he exclaimed, as he ran down the corridors of the ministry of trade building.
As he came closer to the main auction hall, and noticed how security seemed to be tightning, him a threat, he thought, no way.
Harry was a mess, he was wearing a black suit, white shirt with a red tie dangling around his neck, he didnt even have time to tie it, sweating and breathing heavily he turned his run into a swift walk to security.
"Harry alonti, wwa", the security guard looked down at him suspiciously but let him pass inside to the auction hall.
Suprisingly there was a little amount of people there, alot less than he thought there would be, he took a paddle, No.12 and sat down near the back, noticing Alysa at the front.
He smiled a little, but then decided to get down to business.
He raised his paddle " one hundred and fifteen thousand credits ".

He blinked, and raised his hand again.

"One hundred twenty thousand fcking credits."

Cheqov shot a glance at the newcomer who had just made a bid. A derisive snort, and he muttered to himself a bit.

Harry was told to get the egg at all costs, they didnt decide to tell him why. He leaned over and groaned slightly, he did up his tie and tryed to make him look a little bit more appealable.
Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a young man glaring at him, he recognised the face, cheqot ?, shecov ?, cheqov ? harry was never good with names.
Harry suddenly noticed a leather pouch hanging out of his suit jacket, he quickly did his jacket buttons up. The pouch was a holster.
Had checov or whatever his name was, seen the holster ?!, he began to panick, maybe he didnt ..

"one hundred and twenty five thousand" he exclaimed, trying to act normal.

He grinned. Someone wanted the egg, eh? Some healthy competetion never hurt, but this egg will be the GCs. If it's not, well, the winning bidder certainly won't be very pleased with what comes next.

"Two 'undred t'ousand."

Jesus christ he muttered to himself, the price sort of jumped there he thought.
He looked down onto a crumpled piece of paper his bank account price limit, he looked up with sadness in his eyes .. if this carried on this way, he may have to switch to plan B.

"two hundred and five thousand" he bellowed, raising his paddle.

He despised competition almost as much as he despised plan B, he wanted to avoid both as much as possible.

"Two-hundred and five-thousand bid. Going once...any takers?"

Harry's panick subsided when he heard going once.
His expression changed to a somewhat excited one, maybe he didnt need to use plan B at all !.

He had to make this difficult? At least it was funded by the Ministry, not his own pocket.

"Two 'undred twennie."

This auction shouldn't take that long after all.

Maybe it's time for a bit of description, seeing as how this might be an eventfull night, eh? So there we have Cheqov. A man in his mid-thirties, gone slightly to seed. He's of a medium build, with a good bulge around the middle. Whatever remained of his hair was black and thin, greasy as well. Eyes were green, a milky film cast over them sufficiently. His skin was coppertoned, which gave him the overall appearance of an overcooked turkey. His suit was cheap, Black on Black on Black on Black. An attempt at sophistication. A failed attempt.

He was here on behalf of the Ministry of Trade.

All business.

No emotion.

He stood ready to claim his prize.

A tear ran down harry's cheek, he didn't have anything else, he had to get the egg, or they would kill him.
He stood up ..
"Sir are you leaving" enquired the auctioneer.
"give me the egg" harry said weakly
"pardon sir ?" asked the auctioneer not hearing him
"give me the goddamn egg, or i swear to god everyone in the room is going to die" he shouted.
The auctioneer signalled to security to intervene, as three guards closed in on harry, he made a swinging kick at the first, turning around and swiftly punching the second in the jaw, just as the third pulled out his weapon he tripped the guard and disarmed him.
The few people in the room began to shout and scream, he prayed to god no-one was outside.
Harry pulled out his weapon, and pointed it at cheqovs head,
"your not getting this goddamn egg" he screamed.

Harry slowly began to walk to the front of the room where the egg was, scanning the room for hostiles and exits, he pointed his beretta weapon at every person he saw .. all except for Alysa, he couldnt stand to kill her.
The guards were out cold, he quickened his pace and stuck the gun to the auctioneers head, "open it .." he asked.
The auctioneer had no option but to comply, he pressed in a couple of button codes and the bullet proof cage seemed to disappear.
Tear's were pouring down harry's cheek, he was only 19. He closed in on the egg and went to grab it, but couldnt ... he noticed the fire exit behind him, and he darted out the door. Leaving the egg.
He had to get away from this place.

Ooc: Yup. I'm confused.

ooc: Sorry i had to wrap my bit up, i have to go.
He pretty much went for the egg because he had no more money, but his conscience stopped him and he darted for the door.

"So.. Does my bid still stand..?"

Having gotten in earlier, though the auctioneer, until now, had not noticed him – in no small part due to the fact that he was a man easily missed, Hans Petersen, the buying agent contracted by the secretary of the Emperor, who, due to what would elsewhere be called corruption, was one of the most insanely wealthy authoritarian despots – in the nicest possible way, according to his supporters at least – alive, rose to his feet, heart still racing from the earlier dramatics, numbered paddle, or indeed it’s local equivalent, in one hand, some form of rather exotic looking communications device in the other, “No,” he called, “Two hundred fifty thousand.”

There were no plans to gain the object by force, no plan Bs. Of course, incurring the wrath of the absolute ruler of an increasingly vast empire was never wise, but it was unlikely he would be that upset – were one gift down, he would find another item of equal worth for her.

OOC: As I'm in a different time zone from the majority of players, I'd appreciate it if bidding isn't closed without me getting a chance to post again.

His hand flew up again.

"Two 'undred sixty t'ousand!"

Bah.. Eggs..

"Two six five thousand," was Hans' immediate reply. He was a little amused - this could continue for quite some time at this rate.

"Two 'undred seventy t'ousand!" Was spat out in a gruff shout.

Eggs eggs eggs eggs eggs. Eggs. Eggs eggs? Eggiweg eggs. Egg.

"Three hundred thousand," he said, confidently, he kept the limit to his spending to himself of course, but it was a prodigiously high one.

Dave, Ineffable Minister for OOC-Affairs walked through the doors just as Hans' made his latest bid. [OOC: just so I can start straight away]
"Oh dear, I hope I'm not late. I bid three hundred fifty thousand, backed by the funds of the Ineffable government."

OOC: Minister for OCC Affairs? http://bbs.stardestroyer.net/images/smiles/wtf.gif

IC: Without much worry, he stepped the bidding up once more, raising the bid to three hundred and fifty five thousand...

OOC: What? My government has four main minister characters; The Great Ineffable Bob, general all-round Emperor bloke, Bob Minor, Minister for Insert-Appropriate-Title-Here (there are hundreds of them, all named the same to avoid confusion), General Whang, Minister for Blowing-Things-Up, and Dave, Minister for OOC-Affairs. Back in the day, OOC-Affair ministers were common, for semi-OOC/semi-IC dealings. But he's not had much work lately, so I thought I'd give him a field trip.
IC:
Dave calmly observed the opposition.
"Three seventy-five."

Without hesitation, he raised the bid to three hundred eighty. Scrutiny from the other did not bother him, merely getting his comission.

So, it was going to be like this, was it? Dave thought to himself.
"The Great Ineffable Bob would very much like that egg to decorate his desk. Four hundred and fifty thousand."

"Never the easy way. I bid half a million!"

"Seven hundred thousand," he replied, it wasn't as if the limit approached, but this step up in bidding was annoying.

"Seven hundred fifty thousand!"

He was teeming right now. How in the hell did the price jump so much? From Two hundred sommat?

With a glance over at the Frodmodmadtolian bidder, he smiled, "Let's see if we can't put you out of the running," he whispered, before adding, "Nine hundred thousand," much louder.

"You want to play, eh? Well the game is hardball."

He looked back to the bidder, and shook his paddle at him.

"One million and five thousand!"

"Oh, big pockets eh?"
Daves voice was like a whisper, and yet could be heard in every corner of the room, an icy hiss...
"Two million."

"Two million ten thousand," he answered, fast off the mark, he'd not bid so much before, but this time his client could afford it.

You're quick.
Also, I'm going offline now. I'm telegramming Nod with my upper limit (for now at least), so the auction won't end without me...

"Two million twenty-five thousand!"

Eggiweggy eggiweg egg egg eggsies!

With a sigh, he called, "Two million thirty thousand."

Shah Khosru's representative then spoke-

Two million, thirty-five thousand.

"Two million forty thousand."

He let out a huge sigh and slumped into his seat. This might take a while.

He raised his paddle yet again and increased the bid by ten thousand.

A nod.

"Two million sixty thousand"

Another gesture, and with that, his called bid rose an entire half million above the last...

"Two million six hundred sixty thousand."

He tossed his paddle at the auctioneer.

"Well..." he said, watching the other fellow toss the paddle, cringing as it passed close to the object of the bidding, "that was odd. Two thousand six hundred and seventy five thousands!"

Let's see if we can up the anty here.

"Four million."

He whipped out a cellphone, flipping it open to check the time.

"Four point five million," he said, thinking, 'which at ten percent comission, makes me a very happy man...'

"Four and six."

Pick up sticks.

Eggy weggy eggiweggy egg egg eggsies egg.

The bidder broke out in something of a cold sweat, rather strange considering the state of his mind, and fidgited, "four point six zero one," he said.

Hmm. The Ctan rep. seemed to be faltering. A shallow increase. A small grin poked its way through.

"Four and seven."

Let's see how deep those pockets go.

"Four million," said the anonymous representative, continuing on his new string of minor bidding, "seven hundred and one thousand."

No no no. Not right. Off balance. Trying to max him out first, eh? Well then. Time for a new game. Hide and seek. Time to count.. Close your eyes now..

"Four million seven hundred thousand, one thousand and fifty."

A grinding pace. Egg egg eggiweg eggyweggy eggywegsieses.

four million, eight hundred thousand.

His ploy over, the professional buyer put forth a new bid, "Ten million," he said. The pockets evidently went very deep indeed.

((Note that such eggs have been estimated at $18 million to $24 million in RL, so... yeah))

He punched an auto dial on the cell phone currently out, and held it to his ear.

"It's over ten Nanoo.. Jah.. Jah.. Well I know that, but the highest bidder wins, and do they know that.. Allowance? Jah.. Gotcha.. Oh, and, yes.."

Click.

"Eleven million."

"Another ten K on top of that," he said, adding another ten thousand.

"The Ministry is prepared to offer Twenty million"

So it jumped a tad. If more need be, oh well. He glanced over to the poor girl sitting up front. She must be dazed, as she hadn't placed a bid yet.

"My client places another ten thousand upon that bid," he said. When Emperors buy gifts for their lovers, they're often very generous.

OOC: And with that I depart for the night.

"Another ten."

Twenty million, five hundred thousand.

A click.

"Nanoo, I need you in Cairo.. There's a flight that's departing from Ketchack International.. Jah? Good. See you then."

A click.

"Twenty six million."

twenty-seven million

A hand was put on his shoulder.

"Cheqov.. Since when am I never on top of things.. I've been in Cairo for a while now.."

This was Nanoo. The Minister of Trade. Not really a high position, seeing as how there's a Ministry for everything these days. Nanoo was around her thirties, and unlike Cheqov, took care of herself. She had the simple frock of a Minister (http://www.alleycatscratch.com/lotr/scrapbook/LadyElizabeth/wwfinaldress4a.jpg) in the Governing Cabinet to wear. Her tone was of maple butter, soft and smooth. On this palette were set eyes of a radiant sunrise, delicate features framing them perfectly. Hair of a cold black was tied back in one long braid along her back, snaking down to her hip. Then I decided description wasn't very important during an auction, and stopped with the physical and didn't set foot into emotional.

Once again, all business. No emotion. She took a seat next to Cheqov, and arched a brow.

"Where's your paddle?"

"Up your fcking-"

"Don't start." She raised her hand and shouted out. "Thirty million!"

Thirty one million

Ooc: And I will return to the bidding.. Uhrm.. Tomorow! Eastern Standard Time baby. Try not to jump the price too much while I'm away..

With more than slight annoyance he sat and watched. When the other two bidders knocked one of their number out he would bid once more.

"Excellent" the auctionmaster thought. "This egg will be worth auctioning, after all. More than thirty million already! That's far more than it's estimated worth...almost three times as much!. More bidders did turn up, after all. The Minister of Trade will be pleased. I'll keep my job.

[Christ, I go to bed and it goes from me being the only poster to 31 mil.]

Alysa sat calmly, watching the proceedings, surprized at how insanely high the bidding had gone. People were here from governments, corporations, and all sorts of high rollers.

And who was she? Just a private citizen. With a good paycheck, and a damn good stock broker.

Her PDA was plugged into the back over her neck, and she observed the rolling numbers signifying her investments and her net worth. While she likely had no chance against the other bidders, she could certainly make them spend their money.

Calmly, without emotion, she raised her paddle and said, "Thirty-five."

Dave woke up from his nap.
"Forty!"

"Fourty two," he said, and chuckled inwardly to himself, thinking, 'but what's the question?'

Alysa smirked, "Forty-eight." Which is what it would be, if the universe wasn't off...

He kept quiet once more and waited.

"Fifty-four." Six times nine...

Marcus Reed, 45, from Harupdar, Serconea walked in and sat down. He adjusted his blue tie and prepared to bid.

His employer in the Republic wanted this egg and badly. If he failed to get it, he would lose his job. He was prepared to go to 200 million if need be.

"Sixty million credits!"

"Oh now this is just insane. Cheqov, contact Ludvic, we're taking the petty cash."

She tossed a cushion form the chair at the auctioneer.

"Sixty million, and one half credit!"

The auctionmaster could barely avoid the cushion thrown at him by some idiot on the third row. He managed to restrain himself from taking one of the guard's rifle and shooting them - barely. The security guards glanced at him, but he made a gesture and they stood down. "Not until this auction is over" he thought "but then I'll have them!"

He cleared his throat.

"May I remind you, ladies and gentleman, that the minimum increment is a thousand credits? I'll take your bid as sixty-million-and-one-thousand credits. Any more bidders?"

"Eee!"

Eggegg eggyweggy eggyweggy eggsies eggsies eggy eggsies.

"Say it.. Say it.. Going once.. Going once.. Come one, say it.."

She clucthed anther cushion close to her chest.

He looked at the psycho on the third row, with an annoyed look on his face.

"Sixty-million-and-one-thousand credits, going once."

And once only, he thought.

Psycho? Mildly.. But hey, the faster it's sold the faster you're rid of her, right?

"Almost.." She twitched.

OOC: No, the faster it's sold the faster he's going to have someone get rid of her ;)

Ooc: Pshhh. It was only a seat cushion. :D
-Senses sinister makings from Nod-

"Sixty million five hundred thousand," he called out once more.

"Sixty one million!!!!"

She smacked Cheqov from the back of the head.

"You were always bad luck at auctions. Sixty one million seven hundred and five thousand."

She clutched the pillow, trying to keep it from smashing into Cheqov.

"Sixty one million eight hundred thousand," he said, increasing the bid once more.

"Sixty one million nine hundred thousand, and the shirt off my back."

"Seventy million," he said, casually, skipping it up a little more.

"Seventy million one hundred thousand, and the shirt of Cheqovs back."

She stopped a minute.

"I retract that. Cheqovs shirt should not leave where it is. Seventy million one hundred thousand."

"Seventy point five million," he said, chuckling at the other bidder. She was amusing him now.

She tossed a cushion at The Ctan rep.

"Seventy million five hundred and five thousand"

His first instinct was to duck, but as she threw it he changed his mind, grabbing it from the air and putting it in his lap before raising the bidding another ten thousand.

She kicked Cheqov lightly, and he raised his hand. Up another five thousand.

He wondered when he'd be rid of them. This was getting annoying. Another call, another ten thousand rise.

"Seventy five million!!!"

She stood breifly.

"Ten thousand higher than all bids untill one hundred million."

"One hundred one million," he snarled, that was just bad behaviour...

She kept standing.

"The final bid of The Ministry of Trade of Fodmodmadtol, is one hundred ten million, eighty one thousand, five hundred and seventy five credits."

"One hundred and ten million, eighty one thousand credits going once" the auctionmaster said.

"One hundred and eleven million," he said happily.

"One hundred and twenty million", says the Serconean representative.

Cheqov stood.

"And the starting bid for the Ministry of Defense of Fodmodmadtol is one hundred and twenty five million."

Nanoo was turning to leave when that caught her in the nape. She turned to Cheqov, and quickly slapped him.

"You know what will happen, Cheqov. Consider your position in the Ministry terminated."

"That's quite all right. Why else would I be bidding for Ludvic?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she delt him another slap before turning on heel, and striding quickly from the room.

((Defence!? How can the MoD justify spending such an obscene amount of money on a piece of art?))

With a sigh he increased the bid by another ten thousand.

Ooc: -Leading up to something- Don't tell Ludvic about this :D

And then Cheqovs career as a living thing came crashing down.

"One point five hundred million dollars."

Silly Cheqov, Trix are for kids!

Up another ten thousand, even less patience on the bidder's part. He was beginning to wonder how serious these guys were.

"And I've lost my life to the Ministy."

He heaved a sigh and slumped into his chair. After whipping out a cellphone, he began making a few calls to various nobodys to see if he can sneak through to Europe.. And away from The Ministry..

After the other bidder seemingly dropped out he leaned back in his chair once more, 'Let's hope the rest aren't so insane,' he thought.

"One million five-hundred-and-ten thousand credits going once"

He looked around with a generally smug experssion as he heard the auctioneer's call.

Nanoo slipped beside The Ctan Rep. The outburst from Cheqov kept her back.

"So. What may I ask what you are purchasing this for?"

He smiled, "Now what kind of an bidding agent lets that information slip?" he asked.

She leaned back into the chair, crossing her arms.

"Allow me to cut to the chase. Before this is going to wherever the hell this is going, allow me to catalog the exterior design, jah? Simple scan. Comply and you'll be up a few hundred thousand dollars."

"One million five-hundred-and-ten thousand credits going twice" the auctionmaster announced. Seems like one of them has finally run out of money he thought.

"I'll ask," he said, and talked into the device in his hand for a moment. The only answer was, in a strangely foreign accented tongue, the same as he himself used while speaking to the device, "Ca."

"No," he translated.

"One million five hundred and twenty thousand credits then."

She glanced over grudgingly.

"You're killing me here."

"Fine," he mumbled after another moment, "Withdraw that... pointless... bid and we'll let you examine it. Supervised."

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a tape recorder, clicking it off and rewinding it. She then replayed it in front of him.

"I withdraw my bid." She smiled a bit.

"You are now held liable by Fodmodmadtol." After which she stuffed the tape back inside her coat.

He snorted. He wasn't lying...

((Off for the night, please don't sell it before my next post. )) ;)

"One hundred and fifty million, five hundred thousand dollars!!!!"

Ooc: Oha mya gawda. Ctan betta' sign on soon, I haff une plan :)

OOC: C'tan will be back in a few hours. And I'm not sure if the Parthians' bid is valid, given they bid in dollars, rather than credits. But whatevah. :p

Meh, Dave thought.I'll finish them. I think insane covers me quite nicely...
"Two hundred twenty-five million credits."

"Well. We weren't accused of wasting inordinate ammounts of money for nothing."

She eyed up Cheqov to make sure he wasn't going anywhere, and flipped open a cellphone. A few calls had to be made.

"Two hundred and fifty million dollars"

"I am sorry mister...? But bidding can only be done in Brotherhood credits. I will take your bid as two-hundred and fifty million credits, if you agree" the auctionmaster said to the Parthian bidder.

'Oh this is gestting ludicrous,' he thought, but forcing a lump from his throat, bid once more, "Two hundred fifty one million."

((At this point, I'd like to point out that this is at the very least 10 times the value of the thing, and probably far more depending on Nod's exchange rate. I'm only bidding now to be a determined and resoloute entity - kinda what we do. Once more I must leave for a few hours soon, but, could we wrap the bidding up today please?))

OOC: That's OK with me, I just wanted to give everyone a chance to bid becaue of timezones and such, I was alreay planning on ending it soon.

"Two-hundred-and-fifty-million credits, going once."

"Two seventy-five."
OOC: This is indeed ludicrous... :rolleyes:

:confused:

OOC

Wow, 275 million? I'm glad this isn't eBAY!
Yes, I eBAY too ...

OOC: Heh, you won't find this kind of things on Ebay :)

"Two-hundred-and-seventy-five milion credits bid! Going once!"

"Three hundred million," he said, well aware of the laughable price, but also aware that the funding of his client was also laughably high...

"You know.. I'm almost glad we didn't get the winning bid for that thing.."

She pursed her lips a bit.

"Jah.. That would be about.. 1,500,000,000 Bytes.."

She stared at the egg for a moment, and tried to restrain from exploding with laughter.

"Five hundred million."

OOC>.... laughing too hard to post.

Ooc: I really just want to smash the thing now :D

He raised the bid by the minimum increment once more, five hundred million and one thousand.

Dave decided to copy his opponents choice.
"Five hundred million, two thousand."

The bidder just added another thousand, to five hundred million three thousand...

And again, five hundred million four thousand.

Up by another thousand. He smiled cruelly.

She was on her side at the moment, taking up two chairs. She was shaking with laughter.

"I am sorry mister...? But bidding can only be done in Brotherhood credits. I will take your bid as two-hundred and fifty million credits, if you agree" the auctionmaster said to the Parthian bidder.

"Sure, that is fine."

"five hundred eleven million credits"

"Scuzi me sir, but I believe you're off by a hundred million!"

Her cheeks were flushing as she bent over again, incapacitated with laughter.

"Will you be quiet?" he snapped at the laughing woman...

"Ahem."

She straightened up attaining the most professional manner she could, set her face straight and froze up.

"I do believe that this bid has gone to laughable hieghts."

A grin slipped through and she gigled a bit.

He raised the current bid by one thousand, thinking, 'stupid woman... I'm trying to force it up out of spite now...'

Ooc: -Resent- Just because someone is a little anti-formal :rolleyes:

OOC: IC opinions do not mirror OOC ones.

"Five-hundred-and-eleven-million, one thousand credits going once".

"Five-hundred-and-eleven-million, one thousand credits going twice" the auctionmaster announced. Would they finally have ran out of money? he thought.

"Sold for five-hundred-and-eleven-million, one thousand credits to Hans Petersen from Ctan" the auctionmaster said. "The guy with the biggest wallet" he added smiling. "Congratulations on obtaining this extremely rare antique, sir."

OOC: Not run out of money, just thought I'd pushed the price high enough. I can't win against someone as stubborn as me, I'm too lazy... :D

OOC: Not run out of money, just thought I'd pushed the price high enough. I can't win against someone as stubborn as me, I'm too lazy... :D

OOC: I know, but it sounds better than "sold to the guy with the longest attention span" :p

He smiled, preparing to arrange for the payment, a little disconcerted that the locals had located his clients so quickly, but it was to be expected, the Brotherhood's intelligence gathering ability was generally highly rated.

The auctionmaster handed over the egg, in it's box, to Hans Petersen. "Do you have a creditcard? Or would you like to write a cheque?"

He proceeded to write out an appropriately valuable check, to a large but secret bank account somewhere, and make off with his prize.

Alysa shook her head slowly, these people are nuts, before standing up, thanking the auctioneer and quietly leaving.

The shuttle coasted down toward Fëanor palace like a great crystalline dagger of night falling from the the sky. Banking slowly the ship descended toward one of the shuttle-bays that could be discerned from the graceful towers of the Menelmacari palace. As the shuttle set down, the Emperor, in his rarely used necrontyr form, extremely tall and silver eyed, wearing long shimmering silver robe.

Sirithil meets the shuttle in the hangar, as is her custom, though she dismisses the Mornahossë she usually brings along. Clad in a resplendent purple and silver robe, she smiles broadly as she sees him debark. "Good morning, beloved," she replies, walking towards him and giving him an extremely passionate kiss. Mephet’ran smiles at Sirithil, "Good morning dearest," he says, a small box held in both hands. He just lets the box hover in midair for a moment as he wraps his arms around the elf, pressing her body to his and returning her kiss with just as much enthusiasm.
Sirithil finally breaks the kiss, though reluctantly. "So... to what do I owe the incredible pleasure of seeing you?"

Mephet’ran rests his hand on her shoulder and smiles at her, "Tell me beloved, did you hear about a recent Nod auction you were banned from?"

Sirithil nods sadly, pouting just a little; her ears droop slightly. "Yes. I so wanted that lovely egg, too."
He smiles, reaching for the box again, "I thought it would annoy someone there to buy it for you..."

Sirithil didn't even watch the auction, she didn't want to. She blinks, surprised. "Huh?"
Mephet’ran smiles, passing the suspisiously sized box to his lover with a little smile, a sparkle in his eyes, "Careful, it's appallingly valuable." Sirithil blinks again, and carefully opens it... He watches her face rather carefully. This is probably the most expensive gift he's ever given her - personally at least - after all.

Sirithil gasps in amazement. "By the Valar... it can't be." She closes the box again. "How much... no, no, I don't want to know... I can't take this, surely they made you pay through the nose for it." She's quite flustered indeed. He nods, "Oh yes. An utterly laughable amount."

Sirithil sets the box on the ground again, and gives him another passionate kiss. He kisses back enthusiastically once more, a little amused by her reaction. It had occured to him to not pay, but in the end, he decided that half a billion wouldn't really make a difference to the Nod government - or his of finances.

Siril smiles. "I love you so much... how did I ever deserve you?"
Mephet laughs, "Oh, there's reasons you do," he says with a smile.
Siri kisses him again. "Thank you, thank you."
He laughs, "I'm sure you can think of something to get me if you insist," he says with a little smile.

"That'll take some thought." She smiles.
Mephet’ran idly strokes her hair, "Not that I insist," he says, "I can think of a few things for you to do to repay me in the short term though..." he says, with a pointed glance toward the doors of the landing bay. Sirithil grins. "Well, come along then..."