NationStates Jolt Archive

[[OOC: It is assumed that delegates coming in their own ships would arrive at the Gateway Station, and go from there to Goblin City (Goblin Magic prevents direct access to their nebula due to the sheer power and amount of Goblin paranoia generated every day in the Goblin Lands)]]

The message went out across the void of space, reaching the various nations of the universe. The communications passed stars and planets, nebulae and hyper-intelligent shades of the colour blue. The invitation passed through black holes, took a shortcut through a small spiral galaxy before tipping the metaphorical bartender of informational life and continuing on to various nations, both space-faring and not. The data stream finally tired itself out in the communication arrays of various races and worlds, collapsing into the friendly sound waves of a well deserved Winter-Een-Mas holiday, the gentle pixels of a safari or the printed text of a week-long exotic cruise. However it gets around; it can be read by every nation, whatever technology or magical level.

The message came from the Castle of the Goblin King, at the centre of the Goblin City, on a world in a large system, in the nebula of the Goblin Lands, where the Goblin King Griptite da Supa rules over all of Goblindom, known also as the Combined Goblin Collective. The Goblin Lands are a land of contrast.

The message invites delegates of all nations to come to Goblin City to celebrate the time-honoured Goblin festival of This, That And The Other Thing (Goblins never need an excuse for a party) at an event where there will be dancing and the party itself, opportunities for diplomatic discussion with the other delegates and the Goblin Lands, as well as tours of the Nebula and the Goblin Lands if desired.

The invitation goes on to suggest that delegates bring some food supplies, as Goblin cuisine can have a negative effect upon the digestion of most other species – although of course King Griptite will do his utmost to import suitable foodstuffs for visiting non-Goblins, if they would be so good as to inform the Goblin Lands of what they would enjoy in the way of food. Similarly, the message strongly urges visitors to take precautions against alcohol poisoning, as Goblins like their drinks strong.

The visitors will be hosted by King Griptite himself, in the luxurious chambers (Not just by Goblin standards, but by anyone’s) of the Castle of the Goblin King, beyond the Goblin City. Guides will be available twenty-nine hours a day (Goblin City rotates more slowly than earth) to show delegates around the ancient Castle and its expansive grounds or Goblin City. If the delegates desire a short trip by themselves, shuttles can be arranged to tour the sights of the Nebula and the entirety of the Combined Goblin Collective.

The delegates will be guarded by the King’s personal protection for the duration of their stay – the Bladegoblins, who are not only talented bodyguards and warriors, but are also highly education and civilised, although of course visitors are welcome to bring a reasonable retinue of their own (although King Griptite requests that the numbers are kept small due to the natural paranoia of certain members of his family, and he would prefer that said kinsgoblins did not screech at him about large numbers of nongoblins within the Castle). Any allergies or residential requirements will, of course, be compensated for.

The celebration traditionally takes place over several days and will include both traditional ballroom dancing as well as the famed Goblin Clubbing with the latest Goblin bands and musical artists. Samples of Goblin foodstuffs will be available to buy as poisons for inconvenient people within your nation, Goblin crisps will be available to eat (the best in the known universe, and just about the only article of Goblin food that is edible by nongoblins) and our drinks are available to sample (be careful of “Da Strong Stuff”, as it contains 110% alcohol plus flavourings). Traditional Goblin tools will be available to our honoured guests, such as the Supa-Big Captain Mugs that are given to Goblin Captains once they receive their first ships.

Whatever the details of the event, everyone the message could reach was invited.

Paz put the finishing touches on the RSVP, knowing full well that his Boss would be perturbed if all the details were not covered. He read it over one last time before hitting the "send" button.

"To Whom It May Concern,

We thank-you in advance for the kind invitation. It is our pleasure to announce that we will graciously accept your offer, and look forward to opening relations with your great people. Only our President, Darius Steele, will be in attendance at this event. President Steele requests that no special arrangements be made on his behalf, and he looks forward to sampling the unique cuisine and libations that the Goblin people are infamous for. Please transmit landing coordinates for our transport vessel. Thank-you."

Paz Fearster
Presidential Attache
Planet Gawdly

Griptite da Supa da relaxed on his throne, gold-engraved black armour moving smoothly as he did as one of his aides bowed to the King from just beyond the place where the great forceblade of the Goblin King was sheathed in the very obsidion of the throne room's floor. The militant aspect was somewhat relieved by the rippling bright green and blue colours of the King's long hair, not to mention the bright red and purple of his goatee.

The aide coughed politely before reading the response from Gawdly.

"Ta hoom id may konsern.

We fank-youz in..."

The Goblin King listened to the message before calling for one of his "Convenient Humans", those humans who worked for the Goblin King's diplomatic corps who did not share the Goblins' typical liberal approach to spelling and punctuation.

This particular human was named Joseph Wurdfixa, having had his surname erased from the records when he arrived - in Goblindom a surname was an honour granted by the King or his officials, and was used much as medals were in other nations. It reflected some great achievement (or not so great in some cases) that the person had achieved, such as Second Admiral Crizp, who had won numerous eating contests (and thus was considered a very brave Goblin indeed - some Goblin cuisine is even poisonous to the Goblins), and most famously by eating one more packet of crisps than the Goblin Court Gobbler. Anyway, Joseph had served the King for several years, and was well used to the strange accents and spelling used by the CGC. He held one hand poised over his data-pad, and began writing as Griptite dicated.

"Ta Pazz Feerztar,

Yer prezidunt [I]will be most welcome to attend to the event, and I look forward to meeting him in person. While I do salute his courage at his desire to taste our unique foods, I will put my poison-control teams on full alert as many of our favourite flavourings (such as arsenic and nightshade) are poisonous to many races, no matter how courageous.
I too look forward to opening relations between our nations, and hope that President Steele will enjoy his stay in the Castle Beyond Goblin City.
The co-ordinates for the Entry Gate are enclosed, I apologise for the necessity to use a specific access point, but "The Power", also known as Goblin Magic, is strong in the Nebula and the Entry Gate is the only known way to get through the volatile outer segments of the Nebula without getting hauled through several dimensions, reduced to the size of a pea with the mass of a planet, and being spat out into a black hole. We lost a large number of pilots before we worked out exactly what happened.

King Griptite,
King of all Goblindom

TO: Combined Goblin Collective
FROM: Draconis Federation

We of the Draconis Federation are overjoyed to hear that the 'Combined Goblin Collective' is throwing a celebration in hopes of opening diplomatic discussions. We gratefully except the invitation of 'Griptite da Supa da' to attend his ball. We only request the honor of providing Sar'cro'shin Wyvern in this joyous celebration, as for the dietary needs of our diplomats, little is required, we are familiar with 'Goblin Delicacies' and have a digestive system strong enough to dine on said 'Goblin Delicacies'. We also request the honor of providing our finest entertainers for the duration of the festivities.

We are ecstatic about the events of the ball already and cannot wait to join them.

The message did indeed reach accross nearly all boundries of space and time, and even landed as a slim printed envelope in the mail department of the Imperator of Altairnia. The mail screeners had flagged this one for the king's attention, and it was brought to him at once.

King Marius Augustus Altairnus could usually be found in his private office, talking about important matters of state with a few of his closest advisors. It was in such a position that the courrier found him, and delivered the small invitation. He was bidden to read it aloud, and after he had, the three assembled men had a good long laugh.

"A goblin collective... They get a new king every week?!" laughed Sejanus, the Minister of the Interior.

"Suppose they're related to this wretched little tykes that live with ogres?" mused the king.

"Perhaps, Marius." spoke Manius, the king's younger brother Chancellor. "But perhaps we should send a small delegation. If they do control an entire planet, we could find them a useful trading partner. We need not send anyone important. Actually... I wonder if Snorrii is still with the Corps..."

King Marius and Sejanus nearly burst out laughing then and there. The ogres of Altairnia are frequently incorperated into the ranks of the army, but Snorrii was too smart for that. He joined the Diplomatic Corps.

"Ah, yes, good. We can assign him. Well send someone along with him, but that will suffice. Agreed, brother?"

"Agreed."

---

To King Griptite da Supa
From Imperator Marius Augustus Altairnus
Re: Hosted Ball

It is my pleasure to write to you and accept your magnanimous invitation to you splendid event. The great nation of Altairnia shall have two delegates in attendance; Apollonia Sveya, one of our nobles, and Snorrii Thrug, an Altairnian Northman tribal leader. Snorrii, it should be noted, is not human, and is indeed a fiar sight larger then a normal man. Other that that provision, no special accomodations need be made. We hope this can bring a new age of friendship and prosperity between our great nations.

The invitation permeated the insubstantial domain of the ZMI real time Earth data sphere. The Gestalt saw opportunity and threat weighed them and then allocated funds and personnel in response. A simple plain text transmission was sent directly to the Goblin capital, one never could be to sure these were after all GOBLINS.

[ZMI DEPARTMENT OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS]

RE: INVITATION

ZMI is most pleased to receive such an offer from such an honoured group as the CGC as such we humbly accept your gracious invitation. Ambassador Luke Ascent aboard the ZMISS Market Paradox has been dispatched with all urgency to meet your invitation.

Peter Hule.
Minister Foreign affairs.




The ZMISS “Market Paradox” was a 180 metre long diplomatic civilian styled light cruiser with as they say long legs. Aboard her ZMIDOFA ambassador Luke Ascent a cherubic man in his sixties and his staff of 20 most of whom would remain upon the Market Paradox slowly threaded there way through the nebulae on transit drive towards the Goblin capital, the cruiser shaking ever so slightly as its buffers struggled to keep up with the hell bent pace it was keeping.

Ambassador Sir Francis P. Hopeworthy strolled briskly down the driveway, the flickering red glow of the burning embassy lighting his way. About him, the battle for the capitol raged on. The sing-song chatter of machine-gun fire was everywhere, buildings collapsed in the fragrant bloom of high explosives and dignified main battle tanks sat on every street corner like cows dozing in the noonday sun. Spring was in the air, and with the apple blossom came revolution. Idealistic rebels spilled on to the streets from every bolthole with no desire but to smash and burn everything that the old and outdated stood for.

Sir Hopeworthy paused as he reached the kerb to straighten his tie, brush back his wispy white hair and allow a Loyalist APC to rumble past. In the interlude a merrily whistling shell landed amidst the cracked timbers of the Slutbum Wallah embassy, blasting the building to the four winds and evoking a ragged cheer from the onlookers. Francis took one last look at the pile of burning rubble that had been his home for three years, then ducked smoothly into the waiting Ambassadorial limosine. Not even the most brutal dictatorship could last forver, and General Debroullie Archstanton had neither been especially forceful nor competent. Now he was gone, and perhaps the replacements would want their own Ambassador from Slutbum Wallah, but Sir Hopeworthy had had enough of this mad little country for now. Now he needed a change of scenery.

"Where to, Sir Francis?" The driver asked, slowly navigating the armoured vehicle out of the stricken city.

"Somewhere out of the way, I feel. We deserve something of a holiday after all the good hard work we have done for this backwater country." A row of shops collapsed one after the other as the limosine drove by.

His aide briefly sifted through some papers, "There's a ball just been announced, some upstart fringe group trying to make a name for itself. We can be there within a few hours if we call for their transport to pick us up."

"Capital!" Francis announced, "Absolutely capital, dear boy. Sounds like just the tonic."

[[Apologies for briefness of replies, but I am still staggering from a particularly trying piece of coursework]]

King Titegrip leant back in his throne, listening calmly as his aide cruelly mutilated perfectly innocent words in the way that Goblins are wont to do.

For some reason the aide was starting with the most recent messages and working back, but that was not too confusing as far as Goblin sorting went.

Slutbum Wallah

The Goblin shuttle landed with surprising skill upon the Slutbum airfield, its sides reasonably sleek and well-made unlike the vast majority of Goblin constructions. This was in part due to the careful designing of this ship, and partially due to it being a GateGoblin ship - and thus built to work, rather than point in the vague direction of the enemy and hope for the best. However, this ship still bears the numberous stigma of Goblin construction - more engines and guns than one would imagine possible, slashdash construction at some points and a distinct lack of non-alcoholic drinks.

The Goblin pilots within lowered the ramp and waited for the delegation to board, their oversized flying goggles giving them a peculiar fish-eyed look that is not helped by the greenish-blue colour of the lanky goblins' skin.

They watched with beady eyes as the delegates boarded and their baggage was loaded. The ship took off with a lurch and a BANG, before zooming up into the skies far too quickly to be safe. Somehow, despite the lack of inertial dampeners or other safety mechanisms those inside are perfectly fine, although a little tossed about.

A couple of the Goblins come down from the bridge into the cargo hold that has been carefully converted into a lounge, put the delegates into surprisingly comfy seats, and give them beakers of the Goblin Lite Stuff (30% alcohol). One of them switches on a holoscreen, which turns out to be showing one of the more popular Slutbum Wallah television programs (God knows where they got THAT from), and the delegates are left to themselves, although a small bell (that clangs rather than tinkles) is left within easy reach of the ambassador in case he should need/want assistance.


Zepplin Manufacturers

To Peter Hule, Minister of Foreign Affairs.

I am delighted to receive your acceptance of our invitation and hope that your representative will enjoy his stay in the Castle Beyond Goblin City.
I look forward to opening trade agreements with ZMI, and hope for many profitable exchanges between us.
The GateGoblins have been informed of Luke Ascent's imminant arrival, and are ready to pass the ZMISS Market Paradox through without delay.

King Griptite.
King of all Goblindom


Altairia

[I]To Imperator Marius Augustus Altairnus,

We are most pleased to be receiving a delegation from your glorius nation. I hope that they thoroughly enjoy their stay and the parties. The fesitival promises to be entertaining for most and unpleasant for only a few (fortunately we have other entertainments for those who cannot withstand our drinks).
I look forward to meeting with your delegates, and wish your nation many good wishes and continued glory.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom


Draconis Federation

The message sent to the Federation is slightly less cheerful than the others, probably because the King was getting a bit bored/irritated by now - after a day of arguing about the state of some trivial and unimportant thing with his Court, he can get that way. His aide carefully "socialised" the message, making it sound more civilised.

To the Draconis Federation,

Regrettably we must decline your generous offer to attend the festivities as several nations have expressed an interest in warring against you, and my advisors require that I take all possible steps to avoid the antipathy of these states. Therefore we must request that you attend another celebration at a different date, when the bounty placed on your nation by this other attended has faded from peoples memories, and we hope that you do not take this amiss.
I look forward to opening diplomatic relations at a later date, and apologise for the inconvenience caused by this nation.
We shall make a special efford to make up for these unfortunate events at the next session that we host, and once again offer our most sincere apologies.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom

[I]To the Draconis Federation,

Regrettably we must decline your generous offer to attend the festivities as several nations have expressed an interest in warring against you, and my advisors require that I take all possible steps to avoid the antipathy of these states. Therefore we must request that you attend another celebration at a different date, when the bounty placed on your nation by this other attended has faded from peoples memories, and we hope that you do not take this amiss.
I look forward to opening diplomatic relations at a later date, and apologise for the inconvenience caused by this nation.
We shall make a special efford to make up for these unfortunate events at the next session that we host, and once again offer our most sincere apologies.
To King Griptite,
King of all Goblindom

We asure you that their is no such nation, and if you dicide to excrement my generous offer, it is your loss, but we hope to open diplomatic relations in the future.

From Draconis Federation,
Tar'ra Kul'tha Ministress of Foreign Affairs


"Send an entire complement of Star Destroyers to their planet and avenge this insult." "Yes, my leige, but will you not reconsider, they are only goblins, after all?" "No, they will die in the infernos of Traq'oul, like all other enemies of the Dominion." "Yes, my liege, as you command."

Sir Hopeworthy swirled the beaker dubiously, watching the bubbles fizz and sputter through the cloudly liquid. His driver, Busby, had tried the stuff and spent several minutes boasting it's superiority and urging Francis and his aide to sample the drink. Now he was layed out on the floor of the craft, apparently unconcious. Or at least he hadn't moved in the last twenty minutes. The Ambassador layed his beaker down with great care and turned to his aide, who had only so far ventured a sip of the substance, "One feels that we had better stick to the dandelion wine, Mr. Dimwright."

Dimwright politely cleared his throat as he gazed into the forbidding liquid, "Certainly it would not do to insult our hosts on our first visit to this.. ah.. locality, but I too feel that abstinance may be the wise course, Sir Francis. However," he brightened up, "It seems Busby is to be once again congratulated for showing courage and a hardy spirit in the face of new cultures."

"Yes. Quite." Hopeworthy contemplated Busby's unmoving form for a few moments before conrinuing. "Although I am glad you happened to make reference to new cultures Dimwright, for upon entering this craft I could not help but notice that our pilots were somewhat... differently constructed. Which is to say, they were rather short. And skinny. And... green. Perhaps you would care to take a moment to inform me just what these creatures are?"

"Ah.. bit late for that I'm afraid, Ambassador." Dimwright commented, taking a brief look out of the window. "I believe we're about to land."

The Market Paradox screamed through the perilous passage of the gate, the gaseous mass of the treacherous nebula surrounding the passage in a dark rolling crackling mass. The ships INT-SEC captain stared with disbelieving eyes as the ships sensors showed the temperature in the nebula as either 15,000,000,000 degrees or –4000 and the mass reader hissed as planet or star sized masses seemed to form and disappear in instants.

The ship slammed into normal drive three thousand kilometres from the massive armed and armoured bulk of the Gate Station, her shock bubble sending out a faint blue sphere around her.

“This is Captain Stephens of the ZMISS Market Paradox, carry Ambassador Luke Ascent and his party” the captain paused for a moment to stare at the insane construction of massed guns seemingly pointing everywhere. “we request permission to pass”.

As the small craft flew towards the Goblin Entry Gate, the large man reviewed the information he had at hand, and continued the uplink feed. Quickly, a translation program was laid over the host file, allowing Darius Steele to have an instantaneous translation whenever he would be in contact with a speaking Goblin. Not that he planned to hang around a great deal with his hosts, but political niceties had to be maintained, and the translator would ensure that he made no mistakes due to miscommunication. He quickly checked his internal power levels, satisfied that he had a full charge, and regarded himself in a long mirror. His reflection revealed a very large man, well over 6 feet in height, a thickly intimidating upper body straining againsty the tight fabric of his black and silver dress uniform.

He hated dressing like a clown, but again, this was first and foremost a political affair, and he needed to act the part of a visiting dignitary. Steele was a politician by duty, and not by choice. Since he had become "President" of Gawdly, his tenure had been marked by great financial prosperity and a high-standard of living for all citizens, and a distinct lack of poltical intrigue. It was a safe, clean, happy and stable little world, and Steele had no plans to change the status quo.

As he left his small cabin to walk across the bridge, he grabbed the slim suitcase that had been prepared for the Goblin Leader. A gift was traditional in these affairs, and Steele had his research team work on finding the ideal gift for His Royal Gobliness. Results and opinions varied, and the case contained five bars of pure gold, 3 bars of platinum, a Mars Bar, a Rambo Survival Knife, a copy of Hustler and the complete Marx Brother and Three Stooges Movie Collection on data-disk. The big man figured he had all his bases covered.

As he approached the Goblin Entry Gate transfer point, Steele activated his subcutaneous transmitter.

"This is President Darius Steele of Gawdly, awaiting further instructions. Please transmit final destination coordinates to my navigation controls, or will someone be picking me up?"

As he waited with growing impatience for a reply, Steele lit a small, thin cigar, drawing deeply and holding the bitter smoke in his lungs. He wondered idly what goblin-dames looked like, then imagined one completely naked. A shiver ran through him, and Steele hoped desperately that there would be some REAL women at the party...

The shuttle that brought the two diplomats up to the waiting liner Hawk's Grace was rather cramped. Intended to comfortably accomodate a pilot and two passengers, the shuttle's designers hadn't taken into account that one of te passengers might just be an ogre. Snorrii had to stoop to keep his head from banging on the roof, and this amused Apollonia a fair bit. She was almost the polar opposite of the bellicose ogre. While he was a ten foot tall brute with a massive gut, she was a small, thin-framed figure standing at a much less imposing five foot seven. His head was completely bald, and he even appeared to have shaved his heavy jowels that morning, while she on the other hand had a reasonably long flow of shining black hair. She wore a business suit, while he worse loose trousers and a heavy fur-lined vest that only partially covered the massive steel gut-plate that kept the massive bulge in it's place. Apollonia had met few ogres in her life, but compared to what she'd heard, Snorrii seemed downright civilized. He rarely picked his nose or belched randomly, and despite the uncomfortable position they were forced in, he hadn't even once threatened to eat her. Of course, the same couldn't be said of his pet gnoblar, Skritich. The small little blighter had twice tried to steal her purse, and after being caught both times, had been given a good thrashing by his master. After the second failed attempt, Skritich managed to restrain himself and sat still for the rest of the flight.

Eventually they climbed up through the atmosphere, and landed aboard their liner. Without delay, the ship set it's course, for the Goblin's world. The sleek ship effortlessly spiraled away from Earth, and off into the inky blackness of the void towards a very different place.

The Lady of Cats Keep perused the words that hung in the cool evening air, their faint glow making them easily visible in the deeping shadows. Not that the Last Deadly Sin needed any assistance in seeing them clearly.

She hadn't been to a party in simply ages, and a goblin party portended to be especially lively. Memory took her back to the leaving of the last goblins from Cats Keep... the party they threw was spoken of, in the most scandalized of tones, for over three centuries. She smiled and quickly she framed a reply..

Unto Goblin King Griptite da Supa, by this mine own hand...

Your Majesty,

Most pleased am I to recieve your kind invite. I shall gladly attend your party and partake of the various festivities. Fear not as to my being able to assimilate goblin food and drink, but for your peace of mind I shall bring a supply of foods native to Cats Keep with me. My retinue shall consist of the two whom are my constant companions, Smug and MBC.

Please indulge me further by answering one question, as I am unfamiliar with the customs and laws of the Goblin Collective. Shall I be commiting an illegality, or breach of custom, by carrying weapons?

Lady of Cats Keep
Last Deadly Sin
Shalamar Thorskald

A wave of a graceful hand and the missive was sent marked for Goblin King Griptite da Supa's attention.

Draconis Federation:

[ Ah well, bring them on!


Slutbum Wallah (and a brief description of Goblin City for everyone else):

The Goblins had passed the Entry Gate (a very large ring-shaped device that marked the entrance to the only way through the Nebula's volatile outer section), screamed through the Gate itself (carefully ignoring the chaotic goings-on of the Nebula around them), and passed Gate Station.

Gate Station held the prize for the greatest concentration of firepower in Goblindom (which, with a species as paranoid as Goblins, is quite an achievement). Massive numbers of gun turrets, missile tubes and stationary guns jutted from its sides, making it appear as if it were some bizarre kind of porcupine. The surface of the small moon that had been converted into the guardian of the Gate was no longer visible underneath weaponry and armour.

All in all, the Gate Station was formidable. The GateGoblin spacecraft paused briefly at GS to give the delegates a quick tour of its exterior and to give their clearance (merely a formality between GateGoblins, as the Station had long ago recognised their own ship) - the pilots explaining that the CGC was using Gate Station's original designs as the basis for plans to build "Da Biggust Shyp" - a mobile moon-come-weapon platform.

The shuttle went past Gate Station and through the strange colours of the inner Nebula before emerging in the thinning of the gas that indicated a system. In this case, it was the system of Goblin City, and the shuttle began its approach.

Goblin City is a sprawling mass of a world, seething with life. The City covers almost the entirety of the planet's surface, with only a few exceptions (such as the grounds of the Castle Beyond Goblin City, the Bladetower, and other edifices of Goblindom. Buildings vary from reasonably well-built skyscaper-like things to shacks, and there appears to be no pattern in building placement except for a few main roads that almost invisible with traffic (both vehicular and pedestrian). The shuttle turns once it is in the atmosphere, heading across the planet-city's bustling life towards the Castle of the Goblin King.

The Castle is set in wide grounds of carefully looked-after plantlife, containing the few uncontaminated streams and lakes. It is carefully maintained by a veritable army of servants, and guarded by the BladeGoblins, tall and slender Goblins who now form the bulk of the aristocracy.

The Castle itself consists of numerous buildings apparently randomly thrown together to form a building that looks like a modern-artist's architectural pinnacle of desire gone wrong. Rising from the centre is the King's Tower itself, shaped like a blade it stabs up towards the sky, with blaconies arching out from the sides, and gun platforms hugging the walls. It is one of very few graceful structures in the Goblins Lands, worked upon over generations.

The shuttle comes down to land smoothly on one of the designated points behind the main structure, and the ramp lowered as one of the pilots came around to speak to the delegates.

"Weylcome ta Gobbo Sitay. Da Boss will weylcome yezzez 'imself wonse yezzez 'ave had der opportunitay ta 'ave a bit ov a rest."

He bowed and returned to the bridge, as a small gathering of SoSoGoblins (about 4' short, skin tones vary from dark green to pale brown, chatter a lot, the typical Goblin) gathered around the ship to help carry baggage, while a female Cunnin'un Goblin (about 4'6" on average, green skin that varies in tone, reasonably intelligent - generally considered an intellectual cut above the SoSo Goblin and are generally used as overseers and organisers for less intelligent Goblins races) wearing stern matron-esque clothes walks up to the ramp. At her waist is tied the largest bundle of keys that one has most likely ever seen - the keyring itself larger than her head, and the keys jammed in so tight that they squeak against each other as the Goblin moves.

"Oi'z da Edd-Mayde. Yez roomz iz dis way."

So saying, she leads the delegates toward the Hall (not noticing one of the SoSoGoblins whispering apologies and grumbles about the her.

[[OOC: I'll post the rest of the replies when I have time]]

Zepplin Manufacturers:

The GateGoblins in Gate Station's command centre looked the ship over using the admittedly unreliable scanners of the converted moon. One glanced at a post-it note stuck on the wall before pressing a big green button on the dashboard, sending a "Friendly Incoming" (or rather "Sum ladz yooz waz wantin' froo") message back to Goblin City.

The Goblin turned, twirled a dial and hit another button, this one a yellow in colour, opening up a channel to the ZMI ship.

"Moikeyt Parydoxe, youz iz expectorated boi da King. Go ztrate froo, doirucshuns ta Goblin Sitay are in-clozed."

There was a short pause, and the sound of tapping could be heard.

"Youz moite wanna move quickley, dere'z gonna be a big Nebula-surge roight were youz iz goin' in a coupla minutezez, an' we dun wan' yez ta be cort in it. Da Nebula ain't very frendly ta doe hoo getz in idz way - includin' ussez. 'Av fun in Da Sitay."

The Goblin turned off the sending-comm, looking back over the list of ships cleared by the King still due to arrive, and the manifest of Goblin ships expected to be coming in and out.


Gawdly: [[sorry about the crappiness of this post]]

The Goblin Entry Gate was not so much a gate or station as it was a marker. The Entry Gate was simple a ring of rock with a few Goblins inside it that marked the safest course through the narrow Gate. The Goblin transmitters who lived in the small stations posted around the Entry Gate obediently transmitted the co-ordinates, a quick "goodluck" and instructions to line up throught the ring to the Gate Station.

"Da dureshuns fer Gobbo Sitay will beh give ta yez at Gayt Stayshoon. Guud lukk!"

Darius Steele would probably be glad to know that there would indeed be human women at the party - Goblin City is home to many, many races other than the Goblins themselves.


Altairnia:

[[Not really much that I can do there, see about descriptions for what's on the way, and Zepp's post for a good description of the Gate]]


Cats Keep:

The reply came from the king (via Convenient Human typing) to the Lady of Cats Keep.

To the Lady of Cats Keep,

I am delighted to receive your missive. I look forward to meeting you in person, and am pleased to know that you will be able to dine upon some of the more interesting of our delicacies - I am very grateful to learn that you bring with you food in case our meals do prove unpalatable.

Weapons are permitted in the Goblin Lands, although not above the second floor of the Castle unless in the possession of either the Royal House of Goblin or the BladeGoblins who watch over the Castle. However, with regard to the status of our visitors this law is being disregarded for the duration of the party for delegates, bodyguards, and my own family only.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom

Letting the auto-pilot do all the work, Steele sat back and waited for his imminant arrival on the Goblin World. He felt a small grumble in his stomach, and realized that he hadn't eaten since yesterday. He hoped that there was a hamburger joint or something on the way to his quarters. As he was dreaming about deep-fried onions and Monteray Jack cheese, his AI chimed in, it's feminine voice soothing to his ears.

"Darius, I noticed that you failed to pack any weaponry for your trip. Is this wise?"

He smiled slightly, appreciative of the AI for watching his back.

"Sweetie, no worries. I'm not expecting any problems on this trip, and if something pops up, my exo-unit should be more than sufficiant to deal with it. I'm here to party, darlin'!!"

A few moments later, his ship was assuming a low-orbit around the planet, and Darius walked towards the transporter. Minutes later, he was standing on the Goblin World, smiling down at the suddenly surprised Goblins that milled about him. He looked down at one who seemed less flustered than the rest, and extended his arm, showing the creature the invitation.

"Take me to your leader." Steele had always wanted to say that.

The Goblins were milling around the new ship, poking grubby fingers at its smooth (?) surface. They were surprised at this new development and withdrew slightly when Steele stepped out, but quickly regrouped.

The vast majority of Goblins in this crowd are about two foot tall, with a few of the more normal Goblins scattered about. A massive shadow is cast by the twelve-foot troll who has stopped to watch, but he appears to be vaguely confused at the moment.

The Goblin picked out by the Gawdlian diplomat is about four foot tall, with a rich green skin colour. He is dressed some strange combination of armour and suit, has impressively bright blue hair and an even longer nose than usual.

The Goblin peered closely at the invitation, producing a pair of binoculars that strap to his head from somewhere, and putting them on.

After a few moments of examination the Goblin looks up at Steele, eyes magnified to a comic degree by the binoculars.

"Youz no dat youz ain't in da Castle roight? It'z dat way."

The Goblin pointed back over his shoulder for all of half a second before shrugging.

"Yez wanna go dere?"

Sir Francis stepped with brisk, diplomatic confidence down the ramp, smiling openly at the pilot. "May I take this opportunity to thank you for a very pleasant flight, I shall be sure to recommend your skills to the "Boss" when I meet him." Hopeworthy shook the Goblin by the hand, nodded and proceeded on to meet the possibly female, closely followed by his aide, struggling to drag Busby the chauffer/bodyguard from the craft.

"Honored to make your acquaintace, madam. I am Ambassador Sir Francis Hopeworthy, at the service of your leige." He announced, briefly dipping his white head to the squat creature. "This is my aide, Dimwright-" Dimwright managed a brief 'Hello' before slumping to the floor under Busby's weight, "And the man lying on top of him is my footman, Busby. I trust you will find us some comfortable rooms, not dispered if you please. Busby does fret so when I'm not nearby."

A commotion from across the plaza drew Sir Hopeworthy's attention. A large, overweight, boistrous man of around 55 was ploughing his way through a small group of Goblins, shouting and swearing at any who got in his way. Francis was about to dismiss him as a simple lout who had drunk too much of the complementary alcohol, when he noticed the insignia of the Slutbum Wallah Ambassadorial Corp stitched on his suit. Francis raised an eyebrow, "Hello, Bruce Buttersby." he muttered. "What a suprise."

The Ambassador cleared his throat and returned his gaze to the head maid, who was already powering her way out of the plaza. "This way Dimwright," He announced, following in her wake "Come along now, there's a good chap."

The Goblin picked out by the Gawdlian diplomat is about four foot tall, with a rich green skin colour. He is dressed some strange combination of armour and suit, has impressively bright blue hair and an even longer nose than usual.

The Goblin peered closely at the invitation, producing a pair of binoculars that strap to his head from somewhere, and putting them on.

After a few moments of examination the Goblin looks up at Steele, eyes magnified to a comic degree by the binoculars.

"Youz no dat youz ain't in da Castle roight? It'z dat way."

The Goblin pointed back over his shoulder for all of half a second before shrugging.

"Yez wanna go dere?"

The translator program was working perfectly, and Steele understood every word coming out of the little creatures mouth. Before answering, he looked around at the chaos of movement around him, and made a quick decision. Looking down at the bespectacled Goblin, Steele bowed low.

"Actually, now that I'm here, I would truly like to sample your cuisine and libations, preferably in a local pub or tavern...one where YOU would go to drink, for example. Perhaps you can avail yourself to be my guide? I will pay all expenses, of course..."

The big security man always preferred to see a strange land from the inhabitants viewpoint, to truly experience an alien world through the eyes of the natives. When in Rome and all that...

Shalamar smiled as she read the reply from King Griptite.

"Smug (http://atddm.com/flapcat1.jpg),MBC (http://atddm.com/mbc.jpg), we are going to a party"

Smug yawned widely, fangs glinting in the silvery moonlight. "But it's a Goblin party. I'll get crud all in my fur!" His voice was sullen. Smug disliked any thing that might ruffle his glossy black and white pelt.

"I'll just give you a bath each day" Shalamar teased evily, as the tuxedo patterened Flapcat twitched his iridescently feathered wings in disgust.

MBC snickered under his whiskers, earning a fulminateing glare from his cousin Smug. "Yeah it will take all that fur forever to dry" His aquamarine eyes gleamed against the soft velvet of his furless skin, as Smug with a distainful flirt of his plumy tail, turned and began grooming a shoulder.

"I'm perfectly capable of keeping my own fur properly groomed " Smug muttered to himself as with one last lick he decided that his fur was as sartorially splendiferous as any Flapcat's could be.

"So when do we leave?" MBC asked, ignoreing Smugs pique.

"In a few hours. I want to pack a couple of T-cubes and wait until the Umbra is the deepest. The flow will be fullest then and the least strain on us." Shalamar replied as she summoned servants to pack an array of clothes, accessories, jewelry, gifts, food stuffs, and armaments into a pair of tesseract cubes.

When folded closed they were but the size of shoe boxes and fit easily in a wicker picnic basket.

When the shadows were deepest, MBC leapt from his windowsill perch, and spreading his wings wide to catch the nights breezes, sailed down to the court yard far below. He stretched luxuriously and with a quick twitch to settle his skin, began growing.

Smug followed more sedately, choseing to ride, as usual, on Shalamar's shoulder. The picnic basket over her arm, the Lady of Cats Keep activated her personal transporter and in the blink of an eye was in the courtyard some thirty stories below.

"Are we all ready?" Shalamar gave MBC a gentle caress in his favorite spot under his chin. He now stood taller than she. A warm blanket was placed over his back with a thick pad to cushion against her weight on him. She sat astride with the picnic basket before her, Smug perched atop it. The depth of Shadow allowed Shalamar to adjust reality about the trio. A faintly glowing orb that both provided a perfect environment and an almost complete lack of gravity winked into existance. With two pumps of his now massive wings, wings that spread over seventy feet when unfurled, MBC leapt skyward.

Passing from the planets interference, and deep with in the Shadow of the moon, Shalamar chanted briefly and space and time bent to her will.

Greetings, your majesty.

With your permission, I will send my head diplomat, Chief Dron of the VerDa-Zem, to your party. My officer of complaints, graazz the immortal, would also like to attend. If they may come, would it be acceptable if they brought weapons? I trust your security, of course, but it is traditional for my people to go armed at all times.

If you grant us the honor of attendence, I will send traditional VerDa food with Chief Dron. Graazz will have no difficulties with your cuisine, but I should warn you about his unusual characteristics. He is eight feet tall, and has a great deal of inherent magic, which is expressed in strange and unpredictable ways. His personality is rather wild, and he would not be considered sane by most. He is generally harmless except in battle, but he is often a disruptive influence, and his behavior can be very strange at times. I am sure you will have no trouble with him, but I still thought you should be warned.

I look forward to your reply, and to developing relations between our countries.

ZarIn, current High Chief of the VerDa-An

((OOC: The VerDa-An is the name of the assorted VerDa tribes, considered as a group.))

The luxury schooner that had been chartered for the flight out to the Goblin's world drifted lazily towards the gate into the nebula. The pilots of the ship, a pair of perhaps unfortunatle individuals who'd been completely wired into their charge, signalled their approach to the gate wardens. When no challange had been issued, they proceeded on towards their final destination.

Once they'd debarked in orbit, the pair of diplomats found themselves together again in the cramped shuttle. This time, they decided on some small talk.

"You ever been to a gobbo's party?" asked the ogre, noticing that the thinling woman seemed to be content to ignore him.

"No, I havn't. Have you?"

"Naw, can't say that I 'ave. They're a lot like this lil' runt 'ere," he said, prodding Skritich for good measure, "'Cept they 'aint so weedy and they make a good brew. Guess that makes 'em alright."

Apollonia shuddered. One gnoblar was enough, an island full was in her opinion too many, but an entire planet full? "Well, I hope they can keep their hands to themselves."

Skritich took offence to this. "Oi, I iz behavin', so youz best not make fun."

His master laughed. "Ah, listen runt, if ya don't wanna be a light snack, you'll be respectin' Miss Apollonia, cause she just needs ta say the word, and yer gonna be reincarnat'd real soon as a good stew..."

This understandly brought an audible gulp from the little greenskin, and a chuckle from the woman. "Ah, ah, yes boss. I'z be good."

The conversation was, sadly, cut short by the dull thump of the shuttle touching down. After stepping out of the back access ramp, the pair stood amidst a throng of assembled goblins. Without seeing something resembling a formal delegation, and seeing that Apollonia looked a little confused, Snorrii did what ogres did to everything smaller then them. He bellowed out an order.

"Oy! Who among you rabble is gonna take us good folk to yer King? Come on, we 'aint got all day!"

Slutbum Wallah:

"Datz noice, reely."

The head maid is not sounding sarcastic - probably the first time in recent memory that someone had said "trust" and "you" in the same sentence that was not in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Whatever, she was moving off quickly, with the small horde of Goblins carrying the baggage. The entrance to the Hall was a large archway, with massive metal doors that currently stood upon. The floor was polished obsidian, and the walls carefully built and well made (a noticeable difference to the city outside, or the rest of the castle for that matter). The head maid led them down a dizzying series of passages, corridors, stairs and elevators, through apparently pointless chambers but eventually reached a carved door made out of what appeared to be mahogany.

There is a bench opposite the door, upon which is sitting a smartly dressed Cunnin'un Goblin, obviously a guide of some sort, who the head maid indeed introduces as such, and explains that the guide will show the visitors anywhere they want to go (with a few minor exceptions, such as the King's personal chambers, the warroom and that sort of thing, but there are many things of more interest in the Castle alone, quite without the wealth of unique places in the City). The carvings on the door are a complex series of lines, curves that shapes that (after some luck when it comes to guessing) could be divulged as a map of the Castle.

The maid pulls a small bag from her apron and gives to the ambassador, with a brief explanation of "keyzez", before pushing open the door. The room inside is indeed "comfortable". It would appear that the Goblins, similar to most royalty, are able to call upon resources for good furniture and decoration (as it happens, it is all imported, but still impressive).

The apartments are extensive, featuring a central living room with a large data-screen (basically a flatscreen TV), a smaller datascreen mounted on the wall with a complex access-array that was evidently some form of computer rather than entertainment device and for the main screen, really large speakers. Opposite the large screen is a large circular table carefully carved from some kind of rock and inlaid with silver that forms complex designs, with a selection of drinks (from purified up to Da Not-So-Lite Stuff [70% alchohol] in strength). Around two thirds of it (not that third closest to the screen) are the kind of armchairs that a person sits down in, and then almost gets lost in the cushioning - very comfortable, but somewhat lacking in dignity. In one corner of the room are an alternate set of chairs in case concentration is considered more important than comfort at some point. A large corner-sofa takes up one corner of the room, and there are four doors leading out.

The first leads to a balcony that wings out from the side of the Hall, exposing just how high up they are. It exposes a brilliant view of the castle grounds, and beyond them the Goblin City.

The other three doors lead into bedrooms. One, obviously intended for the ambassador, is very richly appointed, with carved furniature and carefully prepared appliances (including a very, very fully stocked minibar), as well as expensive decoration. The other two bedrooms are slightly less well-appointed, but only marginally so - as if to make the point that they were all honoured guests, but to make the ambassador feel as if he was being given his due. All the rooms contain a door leading to an en-suite bathroom, a data-screen mounted opposite their large, four-poster beds, and numerous other conveniences - including a carved button built into the wall, which the maid explains will summon Goblin servants if the guests require anything at all.


Gawdly:

The Goblin blinked up at the ambassador through his binocular-spectacles.

"Weeelll, if'n yezzez be payin' oi'd bey glad teh. Boit oi iz nub takin' any rersponerabilitay fer yez ifn'n yezzez getz ill, roight?"

The Goblin grinned, removed his ludicrous eyewear and headed down the street, making sure that Steele followed him. The roadway was reasonably wide and teeming with Goblins, Ogres, Trolls, Humans, and many others of the various races found under the sun (whichever sun it may be), the build to either side varied vastly in construction, although most were many storied buildings, each floor perhaps a metre tall (apparently the residences of the small, 2' tall Goblins who formed the vast majority of the populace around this location). Some of the buildings were large, many apparently only remaining upright due to sheer dumb luck, and some were small, sprawling structures through which Goblins ran like dervishes as they went around their businesses. Visible off to one side were towering structures of the Castle, its walls and the towering buildings of the civil service. To the other side towered one of the main market places, built like giant open-topped shopping malls with hundreds of Goblins selling just about any conceivable object built by Goblins that ever was or will be. No less than a third of them are selling alcoholic drinks of some kind.

After a few minutes wandering the Goblin pushes open the twelve-foot door to a building. Above the door the sign "Da Hopskotch" glowed in bright neon over a picture of a hopscotch design, although it also turned out that "hopscotch" was the name of the drink brewed by this particular establishment. The building inside was similar to a medieval tavern, but brought up to the future. Around it various members of the CGC drank or ate, in one corner was a fighting pit around which Goblins bet on a pair of...things...fighting. Behind the bar (which was guarded by a chainlink fence with a few holes for drinks and money to pass through, as well as a pair of burly, heavily muscled, six foot tall Goblins carrying very large guns indeed. Goblins like their drink, perhaps a bit more than they should.

The place is dark, with smoke being puffed out of pipes (the Goblins never really got the hang of cigarettes...they would tend to forget they were smoking them, right up until they burnt their lips), or from some of the drinks. A few Goblins are already under the tables, with a very large number of bottles lying around them (most of them bearing the words "Da Strong Stuff" on them somewhere...a drink that generally kills most humans by cheer alcohol content, and the Goblins had apparently been consuming it like it was a mild soft drink).

The Goblin hopped up onto a barstool, and ordered:

"Wun uv "Da Strong Stuff"zez fer me, anna "Da Lite Stuff" fer moi ooman frend 'ere, zo'z dat 'e cin troi da booze 'for 'e drinkz sum uv da 'arder stuffz."

The Goblin bartender, obviously knowing the Goblin acting as a guide for Steele, passed the drinks over (one marked "Da Strong Stuff: 110% alcylol", the other proudly labelled "Da Loit Stuff: Unli 30% Alchiloyl").


Cats Keep:

[[Let me know when you arrive, as well as how you arrive]]


VerDa-An:

High Chief ZarIn,

Chief Dron and Officer of Complaints Graaz will be very welcome to attend the festivities. Weapons are permissable upon delegates and their personal bodyguards, but we request that you limit them to a single

I can assure you that we will have no problems with any erratic tendencies that he may display, eight foot high beings are hardly unusual - indeed, our trolls have been known to occassionally grow up to fifteen feet tall.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom


Altairnia:

There was a brief moment as the Goblins around the Altairnian craft scattered at the ogre's bellow, before reconvening. One of the Cunnin'un Goblins stepped forward, wearing what appears to be a tails suit and, like the head maid, a huge ring of keys.

"Derez nub need ta akt loik dat yez noz, zir. Anywyz, bozz, oi iz Trai, da Bozz Butloir. Zorry fer da delai. Yezzez roomz iz diz way, if yez fulloez me."

Similarly to the path that the head maid had shown the Slutbummians, the head butler led the altairians through the castle and led the delegation to a set of apartments basically identical to those occupied by the Slutbummian delegation, although with one less bedroom, both of those similarly arranged so that neither delegate would think that the King was favouring one over the other. The other difference was that one bedroom was obviously designed for the ogre - it contained a huge fireplace, overwhich a whole spitted ox was slowly turning in case he felt like a midnight snack.

The white mass of the Market Paradox cut through the muggy air around “The castle beyond goblin city”. Over two thirds of its 130 metre long mass was engines, she was one of the fastest ships registered under the ZMI shipping lists. Her graceful swept back fins slowly folded upwards as her landing struts deployed with faint hisses from their seamless mounts. The ship gently began its landing amongst the other ambassadorial craft. The single black ZMI logo on her nose was the only thing to brake the pristine white of her hull save for a smattering of tiny warning lights.

Luke Ascent sat in his commanding chair in the ships lounge, his navy blue pinstripe suit rumpled slightly as he flicked through the ships external pick ups his staff around him flittering over reports and sensor logs of the insane lack of urban planning. Goblins will after all be goblins Ascent thought to himself and chuckeled.

So many things had changed since the brake he thought, once ZMI had been a corporate leviathan in a small lake now it was nothing more than a minnow. A minnow with sharp teeth yes but the corporate megacity which had once been the dominant power in the industrial wastelands of Neo Europe after the environmental crisis and one of the few remaining space powers on its probability line had suddenly found itself cast on unknown shores as reality broke up. These shores though still seeming like the Baltic that had long lapped the cities docks was most certainly not the Baltic that the city had been built upon.

Ascent cleared his mind and considered the Goblins. A caste filled society, paranoid and heavily armed. Apart from their racial peculiarities not to different to the city states that ZMI had once furnished weapons to. Ascent was old, far older than his appearance seemed. He was infact on his eighth reincarnation to a new shell and that was another thing that disturbed him. This body was unnatural. Nothing more than synthetic cells and memory cores, artificial glands and alloy bones, though remembering the organ farms of the old great shareholder families and the other, unpleasant things that had been found in their private homes after the civil war he shook this off.

Ascent stopped his reminiscing and rose as the ship touched down, his staffs eyes upon him.

“Ladies and gentlemen lets get to it shall we?” Ascents smooth standard English accent cutting through the air of the spacious cabin as he began to stride towards the ships main air lock, the mass of his honour guard of four fully armoured Battle Angels behind him there suits active camo near permanently set to the pure ivory white of the ZMI diplomatic corp there heat sink/winglets mirror bright surfaces folded inwards.

Chief Dron and graazz the immortal soon set forth in a small VerDa spacecraft, a strange vessel that seemed, from the outside, to be composed of multitudinous parallel spikes pointing forward. Dron wore an elegant outfit of black leather with silver buttons, and carried a curve-bladed sword (www.museumreplicas.com/imagelib/0500700_D_000.jpg) sheathed on his back. His dark hair, held back by a slender steel circlet, fell to his shoulders – shorter than most of the VerDa tribes wore it, but the common style among the VerDa-Zem. Though the diplomat was tall and athletic looking, graazz loomed over him like a mountain. Dressed in rough leathers that left his feet and arms bare, the troll carried a massive steel axe (www.atlantacutlery.com/imagelib/0600052_L_000.jpg) in one hand. His eyes were black; his hide, gray-brown. He looked not so much bearded as unshaven – this was his usual appearance.

“Wi nëd tu huree. Leht graazz dryv.” the troll said, moving into the front of the ship’s control room.

“Very well, if you insist.” replied the diplomat, hurriedly buckling himself into a seat.

The VerDa-An had been studying chaos magic for a very long time, and the presence of graazz increased the power of the spells worked into their ship enormously. It shot away from the surface of the Earth, bounced off the orbit of Mercury, and careened away at a rapidly increasing rate. The craft had no comprehensible FTL drive. It did not fold space, or slip across dimensions, of use any other technique to get around the laws of physics. Instead, it simply ignored them. Soon, it reached the Entry Gate… where it abruptly stopped.

Grazz grinned jaggedly at the strange effects of the nebula, and again at the weapon-coated Gate Station.

"Chief Dron and graazz the immortal, coming from VerDa-An for King Griptite da Supa's party." the diplomat transmitted to the station.

Zepplin Manufacturers:

The Goblins had, by this time, managed to gain some discipline in all the excitement surrounding visiting diplomats and formed a reasonably ordered semi-circle around the airlock.

The Goblin who appeared to be leading this delegation was extremely slender and tall, very tall for a Goblin in fact, and was wearing what appeared to be styalised armour. A powerblade was sheathed over one shoulder, but no firearms were visible. The Goblin bowed formally.

"Well-come ta da Castle Bee-ond Goblin Sitay. Oi iz Ouzat Slendashayde, bozz uv securetay. If'n youz would like ta follow me?"

As he led to way to Luke Ascent's room, he inquired about a retinue so that he could choose a suitable apartment out of those made ready, and mentioned that if the ambassador was alone Slendashayde would be more than happy to delegate one of his BladeGoblins to accompany Ascent if he went out into the City.


VerDa-An:

The Goblins in Gate Station blinked their beady Goblin eyes at the ship on their screens, flicking their eyes down the list of attendees for the King's party.

"Roighto, fru da Gate you gozez. Boickle up do, itz an entoirtaynin roide da furst toime."

The Goblins went back to their game of Gobbo Chess (which basically uses smaller Goblins as chess pieces), which often ends with a big scrap between the last Goblins on the board, claiming that they "iz da best" and those who got taken off earlier. It also adds an interesting element to the game in that you can only take a piece if your Goblin can beat the other.

To his Goblinish Majesty, Griptite da Supa, King of the Goblins

I would love to have my cousin Archduke Amadeus attend your party if that is acceptable to you. If only I were not going to the coronation of Lord Indigo of Austar Union already!
My cousin will be accompanied by a few courtiers, and we will send you a present if that isn't breaking Goblin etiquette.

Affectionately

Aurora von Sachshausen
Empress of Lavenrunz

Francis had left his aide to see to Busby, unpack what little they had brought with them and run a prefunctory search for bugs, and now sat at the impressively well-crafted silver table, sipping from a glass of Scotch (he'd found the drink in a bottle marked "LeYmoNaId?" and being slowly devoured by the armchair.

The rooms were suprisingly typical of ambassadorial quarters the universe over, as if the Goblins had ordered straight from the catalogue. Yet for all that they possessed of a few odd eccentricities that showed an odd lack of understanding, as if the flat-packed room had come with minimal assembly instructions and six missing screws. The drinks cabinet was a case in point, laquered, polished, hand-crafted wooden frame set with glass so perfect you tried to put your hand through it, filled with sparkling tumblers and crystal decantres. The only flaw was that all but one of the drinks had "Da Strong Stuff" pasted across them in peeling labels, the one exception bright green and marked "???"

The paintings, that was another thing. Sir Hopeworthy twisted in his seat to take another look at the far wall hung with artwork in golden frames. There was the classic "De Burgh's Dreamland", the idyllic oil painting famous for being hung in every modern embassy without exception (apparently the real one was now worth more than several countries for the novelty value alone, and now languished in a Dominion vault), Budden's "Ode to Blue" and even that talentless hack Nepperemican's "Smokestack in G Minor". But scattered throughout these examples of ancient art were crudely crayoned scribbles, mainly showing stick-goblins running away from one big stick-goblin holding a massive weapon - "ME" usually written clumsily above it's head.

Francis heaved himself out of the Chair of No Return and moved to take a closer look of Snaggit's "Spaiyz Battul", a passionate piece of art nouvaux created with glue, glitter and macaroni shapes. He had never considered himself a critic, but he felt there was something endearing about the style in a painting that dared to write "KER-SPLODE!" in big, friendly letters across the page.

Hopeworthy turned his head at a noise. It sounded like there was some kind of commotion outside in the hallway. He layed the Scotch down on the silver tabletop and went to investigate.

Lavenrunz:

Empress Aurora von Sachshausen,

It would be my pleasure to host the Archbuke here at the Castle, and I hope that you will be able to attend the next event held here in the Goblin Lands.

I sympathise entirely with your situation, as one of my sons is presently attending Lord Indigo's coronation with one of the BladeGoblin Dukes.

There is very little that breaks Goblin etiquette, and I can assure that the giving of presents (excepting those that are thought over accompanied by the manic cackles of the demented who insist upon attempting poorly thought out assassination attempts - not that I am implying that you would try that, as I am sure that your nation's assassination skills are well honed) does not break any etiquette.

I strongly advice your cousin to bring with him such food as he prefers as, while I have imported nonGoblin food, most of our cuisine is unfortunately fatal to most non-Goblinoid species.

I would appreciate it if you could have your servants inform my staff of the exactly numbers and status of the other members of the delegation, so that I can arrange suitable quarters for them.

I greatly look forward to meeting the Archduke, and eagerly await his arrival.

King Griptite Da Supa
King of all Goblindom

((OOC: You remind me of the babe. What babe? The babe with the power. Dance magic dance! lol I love the Labrinyth!))

To: King Griptite Da Supa (Email Unknown)
From: CEO Miraiam Morgan, (MMorgan@VectorIndustries.inc)
Subject: Re: Party Invite

We have recieved your invitation. Currently, matters of the state demand my physical presence in Krowemoh. However, CEO Laura Ring (LaRing@UltorCorp.org) of the Ultor Corporation has voiced an interest in attending. She shall, of course, be accompanied by a single G-Series Weapons Grade Realian MK.II, per Corporate Foriegn Relation Regulations.
We understand that Goblon Cuisine is poisonous to most non-Goblins, so CEO Ring will bring along her own supply of food stuffs and beverages.
Attached are the file photos of CEO Ring and the G-Series Weapons Grade Realian MK.II which will accompany her.

May you walk on warm sands.
CEO Miraiam Morgan

Attachment 1 (http://premium1.uploadit.org/BetaVerisonX/Laura.jpg)
Attachment 2 (http://premium1.uploadit.org/BetaVerisonX/wind.jpg)
Vector Industries. Making Life a Better Place.

Near the rear of the Market Paradox's (1) swept back hull a hatch swished open, and a spherical shaped tiny drone slowly silently hissed upwards into the night sky. Nearing the stratosphere the drone went from its hover drive to a sparking hissing rocket that hurled it into low orbit. The drone took in its surroundings before a series of hatches silently opened along its dumpy body. An array of micro sats tumbled outwards, while hissing away on its own mini drive a relay sat rushed upwards seeking broadcast height in the weaker gravity of high orbit. The drone spent a few seconds passively scanning the surrounding dark before activating its civilian IFF broadcasting it to be a diplomatic communications relay satellite.

Deep within the “Market Paradox”.

The data crew sat around a circular holo table, their chairs wound back while the silvery masses of high bandwidth uplinks clamped to the back of their heads hummed faintly in the almost total silence of the heavily shielded cabin. There faces were occasionally spasming with winces or one of them would brake out in laughter that would threaten to make them fall from their chairs.
Their handler and CO was an INT-SEC officer who doubled as one of the diplomatic crafts flight crew sat on a swivel seat at a terminal inset in the wall over seeing their progress occasionally burying his face in his hands in nearly total despair.

The goblin data net was an unholy mess of systems barely tied together by every link imaginable. Some systems appeared to have no purpose at all while others where so filled that the ships main energy state processor was having a hard time sorting through the phenomenal number of ciphers, data types and just plain random junk within.

From fold space communications systems that could have handled a stellar empires communications across the galaxy to what appeared to be a derivative morse code every possible system imaginable was operating in the chaotic goblin network, if it could be called that. The goblins paranoia was evident here as well from simple messages of “DIS BE MY MAIL!” to huge rambling contorted layers of encryption and dummy systems that seemed to go on nearly forever.

Another problem was the sheer level of movement in the system. A whole portion of the planet could flash offline for a moment and not come back for hours while other sections would flicker off an on like a metronome.


Ascent stood half watching two of the Battle Angels check the room for listening devices and half staring at the unique way goblins interpreted diplomatic quarters and then nodded to his staff to start unpacking as the Battle Angels cleared the room as safe.

Ascent and his assistants started to unpack and prepare for the party, first a set of fine French wine's dating back over 200 years were prepared, endothermic wrappers neatly going around them, then a large selection of ornate drinking canisters made out of battle ceramic which had been manufactured to look like beer steins, goblets and bowls were brought out and checked for damage in transit before being replaced in wrappings.

Following this a large selection of ornate and most of all very shiny conventional looking pistols were unpacked from a well made cedar wood case. These were no ordinary pistols, capable of firing the oddest rounds the goblins might ram into them deep inside the grip lay a scanner and targeting computer duo that would be recharged from the goblins ambient body heat. The barrel sat upon a smart ultra dense fluid that the system could alter, in essence the pistols could increase the users firing accuracy exponentially. Given the accuracy of goblins however they needed all the help they could get.

Finally 8 refrigerated crates were checked and everything from caviar to a 40 pound monster beef burger were found to be intact.

Ascent looked on and grinned faintly then to the battle angels great dissatisfaction opened the window and deeply breathed in the air of the goblin world. About four minutes later as he finally stopped a deep wracking cough and gulped down a bottle of water he received the INT-SEC officer of the data recon groups report. Ascent grinned and gave the report a go ahead to be re-transmitted to home, the thought of the consternation it would create in the data recon heavy INT-SEC giveing him a nice warm feeling.

(( I made me a picture ah did (1) http://www.deviantart.com/view/14332399/ ))

Time and space bent, twisted and folded before the trio, a portal gapeing wide. MBC's wide supple leathery wings propelled then within that opening and down a corridor, a ovate tunnel that existed outside the 'normal' laws of reality. Time was absent within, but Shalamar could tell the journey was straining MBC.

She glanced down at Smug, and he simply nodded. The large starstone that hung about his neck, far larger than the one Shalamar wore, glowed crystal, silver, blue, and gold as he used his gifts to refresh his cousin.

Then the portal opened again, and they exited to normal space. Hanging but a few hundred meters before them was the Goblin Entry Gate.

The Lady of Cats Keep activated her communications crystal and transmitted a copy of her invitation. Starshine struck stray gleams off of the curves of the environmental globe, and MBC half fuled his wings in a hover.

"Aye, 'dats more like it," Snorrii grined, satisfied that all was well. "Ya just gotta show the lil' runts who's in charge, an' they'll do whatever ya tell 'em. 'Aint that right, Skit?"

The little gnoblar perched on the ogre's shoulder nodded enthusiasticly. "Ah, yez boss. You'z da boss."

After rolling her eyes at the duo, Apollonia was more then happy to leave them for a little while as they were shown their accomodations. Modest, to be sure, but more then she'd actually expected. Snorrii was quite happy off in his room, and was more then pleased with the snack he'd been left.

"Ugh, I hate space travel," the annoyed dilplomat muttered to no one in paticular. After tossing her belongings onto a chair, Apollonia floped down in bed and decided she needed a nap. This certainly was some trip. After cursing whomever she'd angred enough to get this assignment, she fell into a fitful sleep.

Krowemoh

[[The power of voodoo!]]

To CEO Miraiam Morgan,

Your representative is most welcome to attend, and I shall have rooms readied forthwith.

The Realian is also most welcome, although I must request that any armament carried be reasonably light, owing to the paranoia of my immediate, not-so-immediate and distant family.

Directions are enclosed for the Nebula Entry Gate, and I strongly encourage your delegate to avoid the Nebula itself at all costs. The Gate is the only known safe passageway through the Nebula, and instructions once through the gate can be received from GateStation at the inner side of the Gate itself.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom


Cats Keep

The ring-shaped structure that marked the entryway to the Gate had very few actual Goblins on it (relatively speaking) but one of the GateGoblins who was there hit his communication button.

"Juzt go fru da gate. Lyne up onna GateStation and go zoomin' fru. Dun't stop - dat'z a bad oidea. Guud lukk."

The communication cut out, with the Goblins inside going back to whatever strange game they were playing.

Once they reach the other end the Goblins at GateStation will direct the visitors on toward Goblin City and the Castle of the Goblin King.


[[Feel free to have your characters coming to visit the King for introductions and so on when you want, although I do advise you use the Goblin guide....otherwise you might get lost in the typically labyrinthine Castle]]

From the Lavenrunzian gravship Sirithil Feanor, a space plane sleekly slid and flew down towards the Goblin City. Archduke Amadeus sat reading up on the Goblin nation in Weirdness magazine, which was the only periodical in Lavenrunz he had been able to find about it.
Finishing the article, he said what everyone said after reading the popular rag, and which had changed its name from Paranormal Normalities.
"Weird."
The plane kept descending and a message was sent requesting permission to land.

Shalamar smoothed a tendrill of her firey red hair from her eyes and thanked the GateGoblin. *Dunk oo 'n gudd luk bro* She knew her accent, after so many decades of disuse was attrocious.

MBC shifted direction slightly and with powerfull thrusts of his wings flew smoothly through the gate and on towards the Goblin throne world. Goblin majic twisted and swirled about them, growin stronger the deeper r they went into the nebula. However tweleve thousand years in the depths of Shadow had wrought many changes. Goblin majic was strong and wild and the nebula turbulant and deadly, but with the most careful handling, and no small assistance from Smug and MBC the Last Deadly Sin of Cats Keep kept them safe.

Eventually the bright hues of the Goblin world appeared before them and MBC began a sharp spiral down, letting the strengthening gravity do most of the work. He was exhausted and his ears drooped. The imposing edifice that was the castle of King Griptite was readily apparent and MCB banked, heading that way with haste.

He refused to surrender his dignity - he was a cat after all - and touched down lightly in the castles forecourt with elan and nary a speck of dust being raised. Instantly, ignoring all else Shalamar leapt from his back, bringing the large picnic basket with her. Smug took to the aire briefly before landing on the cobblestones. MBC began shrinking almost before Shalamar's feet touched the ground, and once returned to his accustomed size he flopped over on his side. Smug was there in a flash, all but burying his smaller cousin beneath his bulk as he sought to keep him warm.

As Shalamar scooped them up she directed part of her attentions to the many curious Goblins that had arrived at nearly dead runs, and now were milling about. Many of them were fingering weapons, abristle with the famous - or infamous -Goblin paranoia.

"Kink Griptite da Supa say me come, paaaaartay!" She growled as she wrapped the two cats in the now much smaller blanket, wishing her accent was better. One hand was casually near the long barreled dueling pistol at her waist.

To King Griptite Da Supa

We would be honoured to attend the Goblin Ball, preparations are currently being made to ready the Mothership “Pride of Tsuran” for departure. ETA at the Entry Gate is 4 days hence.
Unfortunately I will be unable to attend myself as I am overseeing the installation of defence systems on the Angel Moon and at Chimera Station. Therefore one member from each of the most powerful Kiths on Tsuran will attend; they are representatives of Kiths S’jet, Nabaal, Manaan, Paktu and Somtaaw, supplies will be stored in plenty to ensure that no regrettable incidents occur during our stay, and the Mothership will be accompanied by a single squadron of interceptor fighters.

We will notify you 30 minutes prior to our arrival in the hope that the ball can proceed as smoothly as possible.

We have encountered few friends throughout our journey across the galaxy, I hope you will be one of those friends.

Karen S’jet
Ruling Member of the Diamid of Tsuran
Guardian of the Hyperspace Core
14 ATL (After Tsurani Landfall)

"An interesting ride..."
Dron gulped. Already strapped tightly into his chair, he gripped the armrests tightly and braced his feet against the nearest wall.

Graazz grinned. His massive hands darted across the controls with surprising nimbleness, and the jagged-edged ship darted through the great stone ring. Logically, no amount of balancing should keep one from falling over if one is turned upside down... but logic was alien to his nature, and he remained on his throughout the wild trip to Goblin City.

Soon, the craft landed neatly near the other visitors' vessels. A row of spikes slid down to reveal a door, and the two passengers emerged.

Krowemoh
To CEO Miraiam Morgan,

Your representative is most welcome to attend, and I shall have rooms readied forthwith.

The Realian is also most welcome, although I must request that any armament carried be reasonably light, owing to the paranoia of my immediate, not-so-immediate and distant family.

Directions are enclosed for the Nebula Entry Gate, and I strongly encourage your delegate to avoid the Nebula itself at all costs. The Gate is the only known safe passageway through the Nebula, and instructions once through the gate can be received from GateStation at the inner side of the Gate itself.

King Griptite da Supa
King of all Goblindom

http://premium1.uploadit.org/BetaVerisonX/Idola.gif
Ultor Corporation V.I.P. Transport Shuttle, "Idola."

The blue, oblong shuttle launched from Planet Krowemoh, the Ultor Corporation ensigna emblazed on its sides, its passenger a VIP of the Ultor Corporation.

Firng it's sub-light engines, the vessel raced away from the planet, escaping it's Gravity Well.

"Approaching Jump Column." The on board Realian Pilot stated into the intercom. "Commensing FTL Jump in ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six... Five... Four... Three... Two... One... Commensing Jump..." A riff appeared before the shuttle, like a tear in the fabric of space/time itself. The shuttle entered the riff, which quickly closes itself behind it...


Nebula Entry Gate

A riff appeared in space, spitting out the blue Ultor Corporation VIP Shuttle, before closing just as quick as it opened.

"Jump successful. Checking sensors... Gate found. Manuevering into landing position now."

((OOC: Blah blah blah... Umh, skipping ahead to where I land and get the guide and such... Tis kewl?))

The transport shuttle touched down on the landing pad. There were a few other ships here as well, so the shuttle settled down on an unoccupied plot of landing pad.

A pair of long arms unfolded themselves from the front of the vessel as it neared ground level, three pronged 'fingers' firmly gripping the ground as it lowers itself smoothly to a rest. These arms are needed for landing, due to the large, ring shaped Fold Drive sitatued at the rear of the shuttle, which would cause the ship to roll over if not for the extra support.

((OOC2: I'll wait for you to reply before I make a grand entrance. :D))

Lavenrunz:

Permission was granted and given both at the Entry Gate and when above the Goblin City, the Goblins of the City glancing up at the various nongoblin craft coming in to land, and those in the control towers scattered across the planet granting permissions and directions.


Cats Keep:

The GateGoblins didn't notice the accent - god knows that they had heard worse ones, sometimes Goblins couldn't even pronounce their own accent properly.

Once she had landed, the group of armed Goblins stared at her for a moment, before dicussing something quickly and quietly. A few moments later another Goblin, slightly larger than most of those present, and towering over a few, stormed into the forecourt screeching at the other Goblins.

"Shooz! Buggryoff! Shezza a GEZT daft buggries!"

As the other Goblins scattered from the Head Maid who terrorised their lives, the female Goblin-inanapron-withabigsetofkeys turned to the Lady of Cats Keep.

"Roighto bozz-lady. Yezzez ruum iz diz way."

She leads the way into the labyrinthine mess of tunnels and corridors, pointless rooms and armouries, stairs and elevators that make up a significant part of the Castle.

After a while they reach the Lady's room, another door intricately carved with the map of the castle (the Goblins long ago decided that it would be less likely for visitors to get lost if they had some vague idea of where they were going), and a Goblin on a bench opposite. The Head Maid pulls off a key from her ring and uses it to open the door before giving it to the ruler of Cats Keep.

The room is basically identical to the other rooms of the delegates, although with small changes such as different paintings, a different angle of the view, and that sort of thing. It also has only a single bedroom, although this has a few differences as well.

The bedroom contains, as well as the objects that match those in the delegates rooms, two smaller beds with the same silken sheets and engravings at the Lady's own bed. Near each are two gold-chased silver bowls, one containing (imported) caviar and the other (imported) milk (which some Goblin has, with typical goblinoid consideration for guests, put a few small drops of alcohol in - no Goblin can happily know of a liquid that does not contain at least a little alcohol.


Tsurannuani:

Karen S'jet,
Ruler of the Diamid,
Guardian of the Core,

I am delight to learn that you will be attending the festivities and request that you have your servants inform my staff as to how your representatives would like their accomodation.
While I am saddened to learn that you yourself will not be able to attend, I am glad that so many significant members of your society will be attending.
I too hope that our nations may become friends and allies.

King Griptite Da Supa[/I]
King of all Goblindom


VerDa-An:

Waiting for this group was the head butler, who bowed politely as the delegates arrived.

Around the butler was a large number of smaller Goblins who had been drafted in help carry baggage and do other useful things.

The various Goblins waited for the delegates with relative patience (meaning that some of them, despite having only been there for a couple of minutes, were already breaking into arguments). The butler sushed them, although he did find their bickering vaguely amusing.


Krowemoh:

The BladeGoblin was waiting for this delegation - they worked on a rotation pattern when receiving visitors. He watched the blue craft land impassively, his tall and slender form standing out from the short squat shapes of the Goblins around him.

His hands clasped behind his back, he waited calmly.

[Sorry about shortness of the post, isn't much I can do there]]

To King Griptite Da Supa:

I'll be arriving late. Unfornutately some matters have kept me longer than I have expected. I will be arriving in ten minutes, and I hope this won't be a problem.

-Ravelyn Vaughn

To King Griptite Da Supa

The Mothership is scheduled for departure in 1 hour 38 minutes, it will arrive at the co-ordinates you have specified in 1 hour 32 minutes. The five representatives from each Kith are:

Kith'sa Tsalos - S'jet
Kith'sa Edson - Manaan
Kith'sa Kultaris - Nabaal
Kith'sa Incerus - Paktu
Kith'sa Noraak - Somtaaw

While I believe that several members of the Diamid are geting too big for their shoes, to avoid internal political conflicts I must ask that 5 seperate rooms be prepared, I request that they be as similar as possible to avoid notions of favourtism. Please feel free to decorate them with traditional Goblin furniture, it would do the Kith'sas well to experience a different culture first hand.

I must apologise for the slow speed of the Motherships arrival, I do not fully trust anyone else, even among my own Kith, to use the Hyperspace Core, therefore the Mothership will make a series of Short Jumps using conventional quantum wave fronts.

ETA of Mothership now 1 hour 29 minutes.

Karen S'jet
Ruling Memeber of the Diamid of Tsuran
Guardian of the Hyperspace Core
14 ATL

Gawdly:

The Goblin blinked up at the ambassador through his binocular-spectacles.

"Weeelll, if'n yezzez be payin' oi'd bey glad teh. Boit oi iz nub takin' any rersponerabilitay fer yez ifn'n yezzez getz ill, roight?"

The Goblin grinned, removed his ludicrous eyewear and headed down the street, making sure that Steele followed him. The roadway was reasonably wide and teeming with Goblins, Ogres, Trolls, Humans, and many others of the various races found under the sun (whichever sun it may be), the build to either side varied vastly in construction, although most were many storied buildings, each floor perhaps a metre tall (apparently the residences of the small, 2' tall Goblins who formed the vast majority of the populace around this location). Some of the buildings were large, many apparently only remaining upright due to sheer dumb luck, and some were small, sprawling structures through which Goblins ran like dervishes as they went around their businesses. Visible off to one side were towering structures of the Castle, its walls and the towering buildings of the civil service. To the other side towered one of the main market places, built like giant open-topped shopping malls with hundreds of Goblins selling just about any conceivable object built by Goblins that ever was or will be. No less than a third of them are selling alcoholic drinks of some kind.

After a few minutes wandering the Goblin pushes open the twelve-foot door to a building. Above the door the sign "Da Hopskotch" glowed in bright neon over a picture of a hopscotch design, although it also turned out that "hopscotch" was the name of the drink brewed by this particular establishment. The building inside was similar to a medieval tavern, but brought up to the future. Around it various members of the CGC drank or ate, in one corner was a fighting pit around which Goblins bet on a pair of...things...fighting. Behind the bar (which was guarded by a chainlink fence with a few holes for drinks and money to pass through, as well as a pair of burly, heavily muscled, six foot tall Goblins carrying very large guns indeed. Goblins like their drink, perhaps a bit more than they should.

The place is dark, with smoke being puffed out of pipes (the Goblins never really got the hang of cigarettes...they would tend to forget they were smoking them, right up until they burnt their lips), or from some of the drinks. A few Goblins are already under the tables, with a very large number of bottles lying around them (most of them bearing the words "Da Strong Stuff" on them somewhere...a drink that generally kills most humans by cheer alcohol content, and the Goblins had apparently been consuming it like it was a mild soft drink).

The Goblin hopped up onto a barstool, and ordered:

"Wun uv "Da Strong Stuff"zez fer me, anna "Da Lite Stuff" fer moi ooman frend 'ere, zo'z dat 'e cin troi da booze 'for 'e drinkz sum uv da 'arder stuffz."

The Goblin bartender, obviously knowing the Goblin acting as a guide for Steele, passed the drinks over (one marked "Da Strong Stuff: 110% alcylol", the other proudly labelled "Da Loit Stuff: Unli 30% Alchiloyl").


The big man was watching with amusement as the little goblin led him through the uneven streets, through to the central market, a teeming mass of interesting, and uniformly ugly, creatures. It was a riot of color and sound, and a tapestry of odors assailed him. He swung his head around as he walked, digitally recording everything his eyes passed over. Steele took it all in, enjoying the alien chaos around him.

He followed his goblin guide through the crowds to what seemed to be a small tavern called "the Hopscotch". As they entered, his eyes adjusted immediately to the shadowed darkness of the interior, which seemed larger than from the outside. After a few moments, they were sitting at a long, chipped and scarred wooden bar, calling for a much-needed drink. Steele waited until the goblin had finished ordering, then smiled down at him. From an inner pocket he withdrew a small bar of pure gold, and slid it across to the goblin.

"I'm sure that should take care of the drinks, and your services...don't you?"

Steele reached over and took the glass with the lighter brew in it, and slowly brought it to his lips. In one quick action, he poured the contents into his mouth, emptying the glass. Samples were taken and stored to be analyzed at a later time, and the nanobots were already moderating the intoxicants before the liquid had hit his stomach. He smacked his lips, and looked at the glass appreciatively.

"Not bad...not bad at all. Mind if I try yours?"

Without waiting for any reply, Steele reached out and took the full glass. He lifted it in a mock toast, then drained half the contents. His mouth exploded, and the fumes hit his brain quickly, a massive rush of alcoholic pleasure. Then it was gone, his system stabilizing quickly and efficiently. He placed the half-empty glass back on the counter, then thrust his large hand at his new companion.

"By the way, my name is Steele. What should I be calling you, friend?"

Rave Shentaro:

Ravelyn Vaughn,

I am simply glad that you are coming. Rooms are being made available to you, and I hope that you enjoy the festivities.

King Griptite Da Supa,
King of All Goblindom


Tsurannuani:

Karen S'jet of the Tsuran Diamid,

Chambers are being readied accordingly and appropriately. I understand fully what you mean by the Diamid members getting too big for their shoes.

I look forward to meeting your representatives.

King Griptite Da Supa,
King of All Goblindom


Gawdly:

The Goblin peered at the gold bar for a second before the valuable metal vanished into its grubby overcoat. The short figure blinked short-sightedly at Steele before nodding.

His eyes widen somewhat as the delegate downs half of the beaker of Da Strong Stuff - most humans avoid going anywhere near the stuff, and thoroughly regret trying it even if they do persuade themselves to take a swallow. This is most likely because Da Strong Stuff consisted of flavourings and then, somehow, 110% alcohol.

The Goblin shrugged philosophically as he ordered a pair of Da Strong Stuffs from the bargoblin, passing one over to Steele. It would appear that he is well known in this pub, judging by how the bargoblin has not yet asked for money.

"Oi's Griblitz, wun ov da Cunnin'unz 'oo livezez in diz areeya. Da playze iz moztly a Lil'un lock-ay-shun, an day ain't'nt too broight."

He shrugged calmly as the Goblin serving at the bar nodded in agreement.

Griblitz picked up a menu and handed it over to Steele. The menu is a long list of strange ingredients and bizarre combinations. Most include mention of at least two poisonous items, with the notable exception of the crisps - crisps which are disproportionately expensive.

<Mothership subsystems powering up. Sub systems online. Engine systems online. Life support systems online. Decks A - J online, decks K - S online. Weapon systems online. Docking bays online. Hypersapce Core online. Mothership fully active.>

Across the entire control board on the Mothership's bridge lights came on, indicating that everything was running smoothly. The ships computer giving constant commentary on the staus of the ship.

"Very good Commander, lets go."

Commander Solzar nodded to Kith'sa Noraak and slowly brought the Mothership's engines to 3/4 power. The "Pride of Tsuran" pulled gracefully away from her docking station in orbit.

<The Mothership has cleared the docking station. We are away.>

"Course laid in for 3 seperate Short Jumps to bring us to the Goblin Entry Gate Kith'sa."
"Good, begin first jump."

<Hyperspace Core engaged.>

Barely 200m in front of the Mothership a single, blue line appeared horizontally in space, exactly level with the centre of the Mothership, it increased in height rapidly so that the Mothership glided silently through it. The Mothership and all her crew moved into that plane of light, but did not appear out the other side. Once the ship had passed out of sight the quantum wave front shrank back into the solitary blue line; and vanished.

Many light years from Tsuran, and 34 seconds later a blue line formed in space, expanded and the Pride of Tsuran glided gently out of it.

<Quanutm wave front dissapated. Computer indicates 100% jump accuracy. We are on target.>

Commander Solzar looked at the Kith'sa gathered on the bridge, "Co-ordinates laid in for second Short Jump Kith'sa."

The assembled Kith'sa nodded as one, they watched as they passed once again into what appeared to them as a wall of light.

Hopeworthy strode across the room, carefully reset his tie, momentarily cursed the fact that he hadn't brought a butler for this kind of thing and opened the door. It led back into the bustling hallway, glittering with opulence and scattered with ambassadors relieved that they weren't spening the night in a cave. All around various dignitaries were being tastefully flattered by more 'diplomatic' goblins as they were led to their quarters. Sir Francis noted that King Griptite had been more than liberal with the inviations, the Slutbum party being placed between an ogre and a group of cats.

The most interesting event however was going on right before his doorway. A lanky, pale-faced man with wide eyes and a nervous twitch appeared to be negociating furiously with a bladegoblin. What made it more than interesting was that the man carried the insignia of the Slutbum Wallah Ambassadorial Corp and that he was trying to get into Sir Hopeworthy's suite.

"Da ambassydor has arsked not to be dysturbed." The goblin stood with his back to the door, preventing the man from getting close. Sir Francis cleared his throat and tapped the creature on one armoured shoulderpad.

"It's perfectly alright, old boy. I was just about to ask my good friend here to pay me a visit, we have some business to discuss. I'm terribly sorry, I really should have mentioned it." He brushed past the guard and patted the man on the back, "Come on inside, dear chap, have a drink. I just looked out a bottle of Scotch and I know how you enjoy it." The bladegoblin took a brief look at the pair, then stood aside without a further word.

Francis led the man inside and sat him down in an armchair, "I take it you are with Buttersby?"

"That's right, sir. Timothy Walters, cultural attache." The man fidgeted incessantly. Taking a closer look at him now, Hopeworthy thought the man looked shellshocked more than anything else.

"Walters... Walters. Where have I heard that name?" He rolled the name around his mind as he poured the twitchy little man a drink. "Aah, yes. The Trinexua man. A lucky escape there. The reports said you eventually had to land the plane under the direction of a... rabbit?" He handed over the drink and sat down opposite.

"A bunny, sir. A... ninja bunny. But that's not what I'm here about." Walters hurried on, the past was one country he didn't like to visit too often, "I'm glad you're here, sir. I think Sir Bruce is going to do something drastic. I'm not sure what but I have picked up a few clues."

Sir Francis leaned back, "Lets have it then, what's Buttersby up to now?"

Walters told him.

Hopeworthy considered the neurotic over the edge of his glass. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out for the sliver-edged telephone that had been thoughtfully provided by their hosts. "Ambassador Sir Francis Hopeworthy speaking, room thirty-two. I wish to request an audience with King Griptite.... As soon as possible if you please, send up the guide when you are ready." He replaced the reciever.

Timothy looked shocked, "You're... you're not going to tell him?

"Certainly not. We are diplomats. We shall be... diplomatic."

Slutbum Wallah

Soon afterward there was a rap on the door. The Goblin who had done the tapping was a (relatively) smartly Cunnun'un Goblin.

"Guud day ta yez, embayseddor. Da King iz huldin curt at da mument, bud 'iz current petishun will be dun wid suun, zo'z yez kin tork suun. If'n yez fulluw meez oi'll tack 'im teh yez."

((OOC: I hate my Anti-Spyware software. It has the most annoying tendacy to ask me if I want to download the latest fingerprints for Spyware software at the most inappropriate times. Like while I'm in the middle of a HUGE post, and then it redirects the current IE window I'm using to the program's webpage, cause it pop-ups a little dialog box thingie while I'm typing and 99% of the time, I hit a key which it interpets as a 'Yes.' And then I lose all the progress I had on writing cause it goes to the webpage in the current active IE window instead of opening a new one. Ugh. I don't want to write the post all over again right now. Tomorrow I'll edit this into an IC post, but for now I'm going to bed... G'night.))

“We have almost arrived, m’lady,” the driver said to the figure in the back of the car. The figure shifted, and sighed. The driver smiled. “I know you must be tired of this, after attending these things for so long.”
“Yes, I do suppose I am. If I meet anyone familiar there, I won’t be able to bite them now,” she said in a sarcastic tone.
“Maybe this is a mixed blessing. I’ve been your driver for as long as I can remember, and never did I see someone who you didn’t intimidate with those…teeth of yours.” He was unsure of how to put it.
“You mean fangs?”
“Yes. They were just afraid to get to know you.”
“You mean afraid that I’d kill them…” she chuckled.
“More or less. But your….you are a very…well, erm…striking character.” She said nothing to which, but simply smiled. She stepped out of the car at the entrance as the driver opened up the door for her. “Have a good evening, Ms. Shentavo.”
“…Vaughn,” she said softly.
“Right. Have a good evening, Ms. Vaughn.” He replied. With a smile, he drove off.

This woman was Ravelyn Shentavo. She wore a black backless dress which was shorter in the front and tapered down the back. Her long auburn hair curled softly at the bottom, and her silvery eyes scanned the setting in front of her. She had soft lips that looked as if they had been sweetly stained with berries. She walked up the front steps, and knocked on the door. I really hope this ends quickly.

<The Mothership has arrived at final Jump co-ordinates. 100% Jump accuracy. We have arrived at the Goblin Entry Gate.>

“Very Good Commander Solzar” said Kith’sa Kultaris as he gazed out of the viewing screen at the chaos of the Nebula directly in front of him. The Nebula seethed with colour ranging from soft greens to violent burst of red and orange, and the sensors were rendered almost useless. The Gate itself stood motionless in space, every available surafce it seemed was covered in guns and power generators, many of which issued a cloud of (insert substance name here) every now and then.

Kith’sa Tsalos spoke, “power down the weapon systems Commander.”

“But Kith’sa, that will leave us open to attack, with only our interceptors to defend us!” Solzar’s face registered shock and confusion.

“We are here on a diplomatic mission at the personal invitation of the Goblin King, not to make war. Besides,” she added, looking at the Nebula again, her eyes registering curiosity and awe, “from what I read in the invitation, this,” she gestured at the viewing screen, “is created by the sum total paranoia of the entire Goblin race, if it looks like this normally and we appear out of nowhere with fully powered weapons…” she trailed off, allowing the rest of the bridge to try to imagine an increase in the chaos of the Nebula.

Looking slightly shocked at the idea that the cacophony in front of the Mothership could get any worse, Solzar powered down the Pride of Tsuran’s weapon systems. “I’ll order the interceptors to go to evasive tactics too Kith’sa,” he added as an afterthought. “The ambassador’s shuttle is ready.”

“First let’s tell the Goblins we’re here, of course they probably know we're here already, but it's nice to be polite."

Commander Solzar flicked open a channel on a broad range of frequencies at Kith’sa Edson’s request. “This is Solzar, Commander of the Mothership the Pride of Tsuran calling the Goblin Entry Gate, we have arrived and request permission to enter the Gate.”

Gawdly:

The Goblin peered at the gold bar for a second before the valuable metal vanished into its grubby overcoat. The short figure blinked short-sightedly at Steele before nodding.

His eyes widen somewhat as the delegate downs half of the beaker of Da Strong Stuff - most humans avoid going anywhere near the stuff, and thoroughly regret trying it even if they do persuade themselves to take a swallow. This is most likely because Da Strong Stuff consisted of flavourings and then, somehow, 110% alcohol.

The Goblin shrugged philosophically as he ordered a pair of Da Strong Stuffs from the bargoblin, passing one over to Steele. It would appear that he is well known in this pub, judging by how the bargoblin has not yet asked for money.

"Oi's Griblitz, wun ov da Cunnin'unz 'oo livezez in diz areeya. Da playze iz moztly a Lil'un lock-ay-shun, an day ain't'nt too broight."

He shrugged calmly as the Goblin serving at the bar nodded in agreement.

Griblitz picked up a menu and handed it over to Steele. The menu is a long list of strange ingredients and bizarre combinations. Most include mention of at least two poisonous items, with the notable exception of the crisps - crisps which are disproportionately expensive.

"Well met, Sir Griblitz, well met. I am honored to have one of the Cunnin'unz as my guide and companion. Tell me, good sir, a little more about this fine world I find myself in...I find myself sorely lacking in the intelligence you so obviously posess. Of course, I would pay handsomely for any information you could share with me about...well, just tell me everything in that big head of yours."

Steele's words came out in a near perfect imitation of the gutteral Goblin language, allowing Griblitz to fully appreciate the compliment he was given. Another gold wafer appeared in the big man's hand, and he slid it across the bar to the Goblin.

"That should cover your history lesson...and this" another wafer appeared "should cover one of everything on the menu, and an order of crisps for the house. So...tell me about King Griptite Da Supa. Tell me everything you know, friend Griblitz..."

Rave Shentavo

The DoorGoblin slid aside a small hatch in the massive door to the Castle and peered out. The hatch slammed shut almost immediately and there was the sound of locks being unlocked, bolts being shot back and bars being lifted. A very large number of locks, lists of bolts and forests of bars in fact. The doors arepulled inwards by some form of hydraulic mechanism to reveal a long hallway all in marble and obsidion veined with gold. Large pillars support the domed ceiling of the entrance hall in a marked contrast to the rest of the city. BladeGoblins stand to attention before each pillar, their slender blades and slim rifles hidden in sheathes and holsters.

A BladeGoblin moves away from the pillar and bows before Ravelyn Shentavo.

"Moi Layday. Oi takez it dat you'z'z here fer da King's partay?"


Tsuarannuani

The message was caught by the Entry Gate, conferred upon, probably eaten and discussed before the GateGoblins ran a check of their list of people to let through and got back to the Mothership.

"Goezzez fru ta Gate Stayshun. Enjoy yezz'z vizit ta der Goblin Landz and dun't go fru da Nebula!"

The communication system clicked off again as the Goblins went back to their game involving cards, dice, alcohol and small furry things that had a name no human could hope to pronounce.


Gawdly

The Goblin grinned after he had worked out what Steele had said, although he was fairly emphatic in denying that he was a "Sir" - something he denied very strongly, in fact.

After a few minutes of heavy bargaining with the barkeeper, a handing over of one of the gold wafers and receiving back a handful of small, strangely shaped and very shiny coins, the Goblin pushed a bowl of crisps toward Steele, along with a reasonable number of the plates covered in variously shaped things - all of which smelled strange and most of which were in various shades of brown. The crisps are of a variety of flavours but are uniformly delicious. They are extremely tasty and, along with being the only edible food produced by the Goblins, quite a shock to find in a typical Goblin bar.

The Cunnin'un Goblin spent a while thinking before he spoke, as if trying to dredge up information from the notoriously bad Goblin memory (particularly infamous for the Goblin pilots who forget to drop out of FTL at the right time, so miss battles, or the ones who forget to stop before firing and so crash into the enemy ships by accident).

"Da King? Wll, 'imzez wurfy uv da name Da Supa Da Nointeenf. Yep, King Griptite Da Supa Da Twenny-Eyff iz guud, bud da polytickzez uv Goblin Sitay izzez terrybil. Cos yez zee, eech toipa ladz inna Sitay 'az a Cownsyll, an da ar-yst-ok-rassy iz aboot, moztly da BladGoblinz (day'z verry clevva, day'z iz) an da Grate Goblinz (Dem'z very, very clevva an cunnin - da king'z wun uv dem).
"Griptite Da Supa Da Fity-fird got inna frone...muzt be...twenny yeerz ago? Sumfink loik dat anywayz. Bakk den 'diz ole plays wuz screwewewewed up megabad, roight? No guud wurk fer da Goblinz, nuffink fer der trollzez an oggyzerz 'oo wennout an gotzez demselves drunk - an datzez megamegadrunk, not da guud, deesunt drunk loikzez nuw. Zo dayz go an' mezz up da playzez an get frown inna dunjunz, zo day'z famleez wuud go an getta megamegadrunk, an den it 'appenzez agin, an agin, an agin. Da Navvy wuz mezzed up, da uvver Sunzez inna Nebbyoola wazz nub payin' nuw attyenshun ta Goblin Sitay an baysickallay id wuz all screwewed uppzez.
"Den alung comzez Griptite Da Supa Da Niney-fiff and zayz "Dat Nub Guud", wotzez troo, 'imzez nu lyin Goblin, datz fer shoor. An da furt fing 'e duz, iz 'e ztartz rebildin' da Navvy. 'iz BladeGoblinz an' GrateGoblinzez getta wurk wiv da Cunnin'unzez an day goze an' buildz up da Navvy - an' fer demzez shyps we'z all gotta wurk, anna King payzez uz. Den he getzez uz ta become pylotz, ur ta wurk in uvver playzez zo datz we'z get payd and getz ta bild uzzez ouzez. Nuw, uzzez ouzez were we'zz livin aint'nt nuffink like Da Castle, bud dat wuzz bilt long toim agu, anna King dezervezez it.
"Griptite iz Old Skewl, 'imzez iz. 'imzez iz keen onna Goblinzez Az Ztronk! 'ee finkz dat Gobboz can bee grate agin, zo 'e guwz an takezez back da Inner Nebyoola an zoon enuff all uv Goblindom iz fulluwin' im. But den sum ladzez zayz "We wantz da puwur!", zo da king loppz offz'z deyr 'edds, 'coz dey 'ad gonnan killded uder Goblinzez an wuzz plannin ta killz Griptite anniz famly, bud 'ee finkz dat dere wuz zum guud oideyaz dere."

At this point Griblitz paused to take a long drink of Da Strong Stuff and munch on some Brown Stuff in Brown Gravy with a side portion of Brown before having another drink and continuing.

"Anywayzez, frum dere 'ee furmed da Cownsylls an gave da Dukezez and nobbylitay sum uv da powa.
"Iz dare anyfink in particoolyar dat yezzez wanna no?"

"Yes," she said with a melodic tone in her voice. Such high security they have with their bolts and latches. Pity that many would deem it useless. She looked at her watch. I only have to be here a few hours.

As hard as he tried, Steele could not stop crunching down on the delicious crisps, and he almost missed most of what Griblitz had said. So, the King was bringing the Goblins to prosperity, and it seemed as if most were happy about that. He reached for another handful of crisps, and asked another question before shoving them in his mouth.

"What about your...technology? What do your armies and navies use to protect your great land?"

His next question came through a mouthful of crisps, this time dipped in a bowl of steaming Brown sauce first. The taste was excruciating.

"Tell me, friend Griblitz...where are the women around here? I have yet to see any..."

Ravelyn made her way into the grand hall where guests were gathered and speaking. The noise was rather intense for her, so she tried to drown it out. Servants came by, offering food and drink, to which she declined. There was no way in hell she would be able to stomach it. There were no human specimans that she could spot out that intrigued her, so she sat in the corner, watching and waiting. she would have preferred to talk with their envoys after some of the people left.

A man approached her, tall, but with a diplomatic air about him. He looked familiar. "Greetings," he said, and sat down in the chair next to her. She ran her fingers over the edge of an empty glass. "To which nation should i be thankful for such an exquisite beauty?" Ravelyn closed her eyes.

"From Underaloz," she replied, sighting. "You are from Versai, are you not?"

"Yes, how did you know?" he tilted his head with a confussed expression.

She then pointed to his jacket. "Your pin." He looked and saw the emblem, and shook his head in reaction. He looked at her, and she looked directly into the envoy's eyes. Toward the side of the table closest to the wall, she placed her hand on his arm, and took it off the table. Now you feel awefully tired. You accidentally cut yourself earlier...didn't notice it until now. he stared blankly at her and nodded his head. You've never met me, and will leave...after you get me a drink. She slid the glass off the table, and held it under his arm as the nail on her index finger punctured the skin. She watched as the glass filled, and gripped his arm, closing the wound. She set the glass on the table, and removed the blood from her finger with a napkin.

"Run home now, your wife is waiting for you." He stood up with a ghostly look on his face, and made his way toward the exit. Ravelyn watched, and closed her eyes. She might be able to stomach this.

As Steele drank, he tried to ignore the incoming message on his subcutanous receiver so that he could better hear Griblitz' garbled replies. Suddenly, a red haze descended over his eyesight, denoting that the message was urgent. He clenched his jaw, activating the feed from his ship. He tried to hide the smile that crept across his face as he received the updated information. He crossed referenced it with his central "hunt" database, and was relieved to find he didn't have a contract on the person who had made him smile. This trip may turn out to be more interesting than he thought.

Ravelyn Shentavo was someone he had wanted to meet for a long time.

Commander Solzar, after listening to the transmission for the third time said to the assembled representatives of Tsuran "We have clearance Kith'sas."

"Yes, bit difficult to understand isn't it," said Kith'sa Incerus, a small smile beginning on his face, "bit of a strong accent.

The Mothership's sub light engines kicked in, it passed through the Entry Gate with ease and entered that small coloumn of space that the goblins had made safe through the nebula. Commander Solzar checked and doubled checked that the ship was square on the middle of the pathway, not wanting to get any closer to the nebula itself than was neccessary. I wonder if epilleptic goblins survive very long, he mused to himself, watching a particulaly impressive lightning storm of no less than 13 different colours.

After several tense minutes at constant thrust, the Mothership drifted out of the tube of safety and the crew saw for the first time the goblin home planet. It appeared to be one complete city, covering the entire globe, when the view was magnified on the internal screens on the bridge, the Kith'sa, and indeed everyone else was surprised to see a decent number of buildings actually looked well built (not just by goblin standards).

Edson pointed at one building larger than the rest, "Unless i'm very, very much mistaken, that must be King Griptites palace." The other members of the bridge followed his hand and saw the building in question had large banners hangning from the walls just for the occasion declaring:

King Griptite Da Supas Palace, and
Dee partee is ere

"Very well then," said Tsalos, "let us go and join our host shall we?"

15 minutes later, accompanied by its escort of interceptor fighters, group in sphere formation around it, the ambassadors shuttle streaked away from the Pride of tsuran, and began its desent into the atmoshphere of the goblin Homeworld.

Shalamar laid MBC, still enveloped by both Smug and the heavy silk blanket down on the main bed. They would eat most heartily when MBC awoke- they loved caviar.

She was very pleased at the thoughtfulness of the Goblins. Once refreshed by a nap and a shower she would present her self to King Griptite.

Shucking off her boots and travel clothes she wrapped herself in a comfortable kimono. Shalamar yawned deeply. Working with the Goblin Magic had been harder that she remembered. Her eyes drooped closed as she lay down next to Smug and MBC. Curling herself around them she was deeply asleep in seconds.

Ascent hummed to himself as the Angels reported back active and large exotic radiation bursts. Not that was a surprise with “da power” and the nebula surrounding them. However these bursts were different almost like miniature transit bubbles from a starship. Whoever they were had power, and in spades. They were either a super adept or a wielder of great magical power. Ascent grimaced at both those thoughts, after all these years ZMI, based on hard science, still had a tough time coming to terms with all the implications of the brake. Another tell tale trace was of an active normal human adept. At this the Battle Angel’s had immediately reinforced the implant control level of all present, even though these were diplomatic corp. implants. Ascent then went over and checked with one of the staff who was preparing some of the food stuffs. Checking his suit once in a mirror Ascent rapped on the door once and stated, “I would be most grateful if you could lead us to the party.”

Behind him the aids and the two fully armoured Battle Angels prepared themselves for a night of fun, frolics, and work. Being a diplomat could be so trying at times Ascent thought as he ran his right hand his tie.

Neither of the Battle Angels were happy, the great exotic radiation source would be undoubtedly safe given the fact that powers of that size that were unsafe in civilised company usually came to a sticky end. None the less they grimly thought that only full battle gear could rival that energy even as their eyes darted over the back of the Ambassadors head. The other smaller trace was more worrying, especially given the particular wave form. An active adept using their powers in a diplomatic meeting could be a huge destabilising effect. The aids however were not thinking about that, they were instead concentrating on carrying the party paraphernalia in some manner of dignity. This was producing some interesting to say the least results.

Ascent rapped on the door once more.

“Hello?”

The envoy from Versai attempted to open the door and collapsed in front of it, unable to undo the chains. Ravelyn took a sip from her glass. Woops.. she said silently to herself. I should be more careful next time. She took her glass with her as she got up, and made her way out of the room, and to the door where the envoy lay unconscious. "Guess he had too much to drink.."

Gawdly:

The smallish Goblin shrugged.

"Dey'z arund summere. Moztz izzez prolly doin stuffz."

He answered that question first, before pondering on the initial one.

"Wot duzz wee'z uze? Da Big Gunz uv curse. Uv curz we'z gut udder finks, loik da Zzzap Gunz - dey'z reely puwurful, da udder gunzez and da loik too. Bud den....we'z ulso gut da Speshul Podject"

He winks as he says the last.


Zeppelin Manufacturers:

The door opened to reveal the guide who had been sitting on the bench outside the ZMI delegate's door.

"Yezz Bozz?"

Then his ears caught up with his brain and he made a passable bow.

"Roighto, da partay id iz. Fulluw me pleeze, wuld ya wanna zee da King furzt, ur go strayt ta da partay? Oi'm zorry dat tonite izza tradyshonal ball-loike fing, but dere'll be da betta kinda partayin' layder."

The Goblin promtly started off along the corridor, his strangely designed impersonation of a suit making him appear like some strange kind of penguin.


Rave Shentavo

[[Will post when I can...will require a longer post]]

Gawdly:

The smallish Goblin shrugged.

"Dey'z arund summere. Moztz izzez prolly doin stuffz."

He answered that question first, before pondering on the initial one.

"Wot duzz wee'z uze? Da Big Gunz uv curse. Uv curz we'z gut udder finks, loik da Zzzap Gunz - dey'z reely puwurful, da udder gunzez and da loik too. Bud den....we'z ulso gut da Speshul Podject"

He winks as he says the last.

His ears perked up at the Goblins words, and Steele returned the creatures wink with one of his own. He lifted his glass of Da Strong Stuff and drained half of it, appreciating the buzz he felt, if only for a brief moment. Glancing at his watch, he realized that he needed to be elsewhere, and that he was expected at King Griptite Da Supa's castle for a formal event. He pushed the baskets of crisps towards Griblitz.

"Why don't you tell me about this 'Special Project' while you guide me to the Castle?" Steele took out the original invitation, and showed it to the small goblin. "I need to go there...on the way, we can talk about a long-term partnership that will benefit both of us. Time is of the essence, of course, so we must leave now, friend Griblitz."

Steele finished his drink, realizing it may be the last he'd taste for a while. He stood up, waiting for the goblin to join him.

Ascent looked backwards at the array of food and gifts that his staff was carrying and then turned once more to the bizzarely suited goblin infront of him.

“ I believe we wish to see the king.”

He stated trying to stop his usual verbose diplomatic cascade of words.At this the Battle angels faceless helmets behind ascent looked at each other and shook their heads, barely able to stop their armour moving with the silent guffaw’s they made when they heard Ascents short request.

((OOC: I think I might have to drop out of this. Sorry ND. :( I guess I choose the Crystal orb thingy instead...))

The ambassadors shuttle nestled gently down in front of the palace of King Griptite da Supa. The interceptor escort hovered over the ship as a side door opened and the 5 Kith'sa stepped out one by one. They looked around for a minute or two, then slowly mounted the steps up to the main front doors.

Kith'sa Tsalos looked at the other members, grinned, and knocked on the door as the interceptors settled around the ship in a circle.

[[Apologies for delays, everyone]]

Gawdly:

Gritblitz nodded and headed toward the door, knowing the way to the palace as most Cunnin'un Goblins did (as most had worked for the King at some point or another, either in the military or in other jobs), so he led the way confidently while munching on crisps.

"Roightoz, watta yez wanna no aboutta Projec'? Anna partynershyp sundzez guud."


Zeppelin Manufacturers

The Gobling uide bowed low before heading off into the dizzyingly confusing corridors of the Castle, which varying from the amazingly ornate to the plain. As he led the way through the central keep the guide was explaining to the ambassador that he would be well advised go down on one knee before the king - also explaining that the kneeling was not a sign of obedience, but rather a symbolic throwing-up, and would indicate that the ambassador did not want to be served Goblin foodstuffs (excepting crisps, and alcohol is not included as a foodstuff).

Eventually they reach the massive doors to the throne room, made of a strong metal but heavily engraved and styalised. The Goblin had a quick word with one of the BladeGoblin guards before darting off as the guard took over from the smaller greenskin.

"If'n yezz'z onnorz'd fulluw mee"

The Bladegoblins raised the knocker and Slammed it into the door before pushing open the door and leading the delegate into the throne room.

[[Rave Shentavo - this description is basically what the room your character would be in is like, although it lacks the dais, but contains buffet tables, musicians et cetera, and apologies for my continuous delays]]

The floor is made of polished obsidion with gold chasing throughout the surface that forms complex patterns. The gold designs continue up onto the walls, which are made of a polished dark stone that appears to be a cross of granite, marble and obsidion that rises high up to the ceiling that reflects the floor in design. Massive pillars support the ceiling along the way toward the dais at the far end of the hall, with BladeGoblins standing guard in their shadow.

King Griptite is seated upon an impressive-looking throne that appears to be made from numberous different metals. He is wearing flowing robes that spread around him but hang open to show ornamental black-and-gold armour that appears to be more ceremonial than function and is probably a requirement of the station. Sheated in the floor before him is a greatsword whose hilt is also heavily engraved, a sword that yields a palpable aura of magic to those sensitive to it.

As the delegation enters, King Griptite rises to his feet to welcome them.

OOC: Sorry about the delayed reply; I've been having a bit of computer trouble.

IC:
Grazz unloaded several wooden crates of assorted sizes while Dron spoke with the head butler.

"Greetings! I am Chief Dron, from VerDa-An, and this is graazz the immortal. We are honored to be here."

Gawdly:

Gritblitz nodded and headed toward the door, knowing the way to the palace as most Cunnin'un Goblins did (as most had worked for the King at some point or another, either in the military or in other jobs), so he led the way confidently while munching on crisps.

"Roightoz, watta yez wanna no aboutta Projec'? Anna partynershyp sundzez guud."

As they walked out of the bar, the big man slowing his long stride to a pace that the Goblin could keep up with, Steele looked down on the little creatures head.

"What exactly IS the Special Project? Y'know, what is it's purpose, where is it located...all the basic stuff, and anything else about it that may be of interest. This is the kind of information that will make you a rich man...errr, Goblin."

As they moved through the crooked streets, Steele could see that the Griblitz was searching his mind for an appropriate answer. He took advantage of the silence to make answering even easier for the Goblin.

"In terms of the partnership I was speaking about, it's pretty simple. I just want you to keep an eye on the palace and an ear to the ground. Whenever you hear anything that you think will be of interest to me, you let me know. How we communicate will be dealt with later. I'll pay you 4 gold bars per month, no matter what, and a bonus bar everytime you send me something."

Steele pulled out a small stack of bars, and passed them to the Goblin. They disappeared quickly in the folds of his clothing.

"That will cover the first few months. Now...you were telling me about this Special Project...?"

In the distance, he could see that they were rapidly approaching the castle. Steele needed to wring the Goblin as dry as possible before he arrived. While he was listening to the response, another part of his mind was reviewing the intel being downloaded into his exo about Rave Shentavo.

There was plenty to read, but not much of substance. Steele had recently had a few run-ins with another vampire, Kain Shentavo, though he was unsure if and how the two were related. Still, if Rave was anything like Kain, Steele would have to be on his guard.

Vampires hated hunters...and Steele was one of the best.

Ravelyn Shentavo, or Ravelyn Vaughn, was indeed related to Kain Shentavo. Kain Shentavo had been Kain Brightblade of Velmora before Ravelyn had sired him. Yes. Ravelyn was Kain’s sire. She was far older, taught Kain the lessons of being a vampire. If Kain had been a problem for Steele, then Ravelyn Vaughn was little short of a crisis.

Ravelyn narrowed her eyes at the King, and waited at the back of the room. She would speak when the room was free of ignorance and façade. She twisted a strand of her hair within her figures. Only a few more hours…then I can finely leave. Nothing interesting ever happens at parties.

Hunters hated vampires...and Ravelyn was one of the best.

The Lady of Cats Keep stirred in her sleep and shifted into a more comfortable position. MBC and Smug too changed how they were curled together. MBC, having regained some of his energy, chose to stretch out rather than be buried under Smug's bulk.

Their dreams were not gentle, but did not draw them from sleep.

He listened with half a mind as the Goblin rattled on, and concentrated more on his surroundings than the information that the little creature was spouting. In any case, every word was being recorded and analyzed in the background, and any pertinent data would be pushed in a timely manner, if needed. Darius Steele continued on, finally stopping near the large gate of the castle proper. He reached into his vest and pulled out his business card, along with another small, gold bar. Passing it to Griblitz, he spoke quickly before turning and walking towards the main doors.

"Remember, good information will make you wealthy. Call me anytime."

Steele approached the front door, invitation in hand. He looked around for guards, but didn't see any close by. He waited for a minute or two, then shrugged and opened the door himself. Entering into the foyer, he shut the door gently behind him. He was surprised to find that this post was also unmanned, and that the security here was so lax. Approaching the battered desk that sat against the back wall, Steele noticed a small, hand-written sign that read "yu like dong, yu pullz dis --------->", the arrow pointing at a frayed rope that hung from the ceiling. He gave it a sharp yank, and was rewarded by the sound of ringing bells. He puffed on his cigar, Waiting for someone to answer the doorbell.

Ravelyn stalked out of the room. This was a waste of time. Her empire was so massive, she really needed no other ties, gaining full suport of Haraki and Underaloz. Ravelyn Vaughn closed her eyes, and continued on, passing by a young gentleman at the front. She stepped over the body of the Versai representative and looked out the window, waiting for her ride. She could spend no more time here.

It seemed as if days had past since he first rang the bell. His cigar had gone out and as he relit it, Steele double-checked his invitation, then rang the bell again. If no one answered, he'd transport back up to the ship, and find another party...

[[Sorry about all the delays...exams and work have been viciously attacking me from all sides *hides other posts*]]

The door was creaked open by a three and a half foot tall (short?) Goblin with long white hair, wrinkled skin and mustaches that down to below his knees. He was wearing a tails suit.

"Yeeeeth?"

He looks up at Steele's waist, then frowns and removes some extremely thick glasses from his pouch and fits them on over his long pointed nose. He looks up, and up, and up. He also notices the invitation.

"Weeeeellcome inthide, mithter."

The Goblin appears short on teeth, judging by his prononciation. Pinned to his coat is a big badge saying "Extremely Senior and Ancient Doorgoblin", although with the typical Goblin spelling.

"Thith way, thur, thith way. Oi'll 'aff a Goblin take yeth'th thtuff inthide, thur, the partay'th thith way, thur"

The Goblin leads Steele into the main ballroom, tall pillars of black marble supporting a vaulted ceiling that has been carefully inlaid with valuable materials, artwork and statuettes. The pillars themselves rise to several times taller than a man is tall and are carefully fashioned of black marble inlaid with gold, carved delicately into intricate shapes that seem to hold some historical significance for the CGC as they depict both battles, social events (presumably during which important documents were signed and the like) and kings. The floor is similarly made of polished black marble and is inlaid with gold knotwork forming strange geotmetric shapes and designs that form peculiar symbols and shapes across the dance floor.

The small Goblin bows his way out and vanishes, leaving Steele inside the hall in the middle of a dance being played by an orchestra of surpisingly skilled Goblin musicians. Despite the peculiar instruments being played it is recognisable as a waltz, although asking around would reveal that thus far the selection of music had been peculiar, to say the least.


[[I'll post a better comment within the next couple fo days, but this was the best I could put out in the time, as I have had three exams today and another tomorrow that I need to revise for]]