NationStates Jolt Archive

“Esteemed Representatives of your nations

I would personally like invite you to a diplomatic party I am holding, it will be a 3 day event, living quarters can be arranged upon your request. I hope that this diplomatic function could further out relations and hopefully in time create strong friendships.

Rrowl C’mef
Patriarch of El Sentiel
Epsilon Eridiana”

Rrowl C’mef sat at his desk his naked pink tail swaying back and forth as he stared intently at the screen in front of him, it was the 7th version of the invitation he had rewritten and he was at his wit’s end.

The door slide open slowly as a male monkey slowly poked his head in nervously, he was a filling in for Isabelle while she was sick at home, The patriarch had always found it odd how humans were so prone to illness. Perhaps a weak immune system was to blame, another inferiority of the monkeys. he mentally hit himself, he was letting his ego get the better or him and the monkeys had dangerous ways of turning that against the foolish.

“Hon- honored patriarch, have you finished the letter?” the aide stuttered nervously, his hands playing with his sleeves as he kept his eyes everywhere but the eyes of the 8 foot tall mass of fur and muscle sitting at the opposite end of the room.

“Yes, it’s finished” he replied leaning back yawning loudly his pink tongue curling up.” send it out, I’m going out for the mean time”

bump

Krioval is always interested in new diplomatic contacts. Could you describe your nation for us? Also, we would be most interested in seeing the agenda for your conference. Three days is quite some time for one to be away from Krioval, and we would very much like to know what our delegate would be doing during that time. Any information you can give will be greatly appreciated.

Lord Jevo Telovar
Director, Krioval Diplomacy and Trade

The Nation of El Sentiel consists of two species Kzinti and humans, The kzinti are 8 foot tall felineness predators, they follow a very strict social and honor code, their loyalty to gaining for themselves and the patriarch is unlimited. although they are still very animal like. The Kzinti mostly fill the military roles while the humans (needing no Explanation) fill the rest. The agenda for the 3 days is as followed

Day 1:
- Meeting the patriarch
- Feast later that night
- party/meeting other officals.

Day 2:
- General resting day
- supervised touring of the patriarchs palace and of the city.

Day 3:
- private meeting with the patriarch.
- goodbye feast.

I hope this information is satisfactory.


http://img7.exs.cx/img7/3200/Kziniti1.jpg
Rrowl C'mef
Patriarch of El Sentiel
Epsilon Eridina

bump.

"Your thoughts, sir?"

Speaker-Rrit's eyes lid slightly, looking at the regal woman over his folded orange and white-furred hands. "On the one hand, you are our official representative. On the other hand, El Sentiel's previous interest in the Segments was due to our kzinti population, who I represent."

"According to that TYCS report, yes," Nadjiba replies, nodding momentarily to herself, eyes flicking to the side in calculation before looking back up, hands folded easily behind her back. "What do you think is their attitude towards humanity?"

"Probably not too good," the kzintosh says with a wry, almost soundless chuckle, breath whiffing through his nostrils. "You know we are a very... species-centric people. Even now, while all species have their value, they are not Heroes. No offense."

"None taken, of course," the International Relations Advisor says with a slight smirk, a slightly playful half-tone of hurt just barely masked in her voice. "Thought is often limited by language; Orwell pointed that much out. As I see it, you have two options: have me respond, and deal with an obligatory racial lack of respect; or you respond... what's the downside?"

"They are a kzinti-dominated empire with humans somewhere between citizens and servitors," Speaker replies as he rests his folded hands on his desk, "and it would not be a stretch for them to apply their experience to us. I am not interested in misrepresenting either of my peoples."

"On the gripping hand, as status-conscious as the Old Patriarchy was," Nadjiba says with a wry smile, hands unfolding from behind her so she can fold her arms in front, "it would be an insult for a statement written by the Patriarch to be replied to by anyone less." She obviously doesn't like the blatantly nonegalitarian nature of this train of logic, all encoded in her stance, the slightly ironically regal disdain in her voice.

"I will respond then--politics demand it--" the Supreme Emperor decides, watching Nadjiba with a commisserating look, "and we can both go to this diplomatic event. All aspects of the Segments will be represented."

"That will just have to work," the woman replies with a smirk, still visibly annoyed that anyone would consider her inferior on such a basis. Speaker-Rrit is quietly glad that at least she is not annoyed with him--at least, perhaps, not as much.

* - * - *

--<Transmission Type: Standard Diplomatic Communique>--
-<Sender: Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit, FSS>-
-<Destination: Patriarch Rrowl C'mef, KES>-
--<Subject: Re: Invitation to Diplomatic Party>--

Thank you for your invitation, honorable Patriarch Rrowl C'mef. My International Relations Advisor, Nadjiba Al-Haqq, and I will represent the Federated Segments of Scolopendra. Both of my peoples, kzinti and human, are interested in your nation and wish to learn more in honorable discourse. For my own part, I will find it quite interesting to meet a fellow Patriarch of our respective kzinti; I think we can learn much from each other.

Hrjoowksmawt g'cu zhe zrejoz'unj jeehaz.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/scolopendra/speaker-to-animals.gifSupreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit
Chief of State; Patriarch of the Scolopendran Kzinti
Federated Segments of Scolopendra

--<End Transmission>--

It was an office. That much was obvious, noting the large central desk with the comfortable chair behind it...plus a few less comfortable chairs in front of it...and not much else. Which was the idea.

Because it was a ceremonial office only. Though this was the Office of the Warprince in the High Palace at Caer Malant, the Warprince himself was hardly ever present in it. Because he was the Warprince. His job was first and foremost to -be- the Warprince, commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces, Exalted Star Supremacy of Revenia (To be known from now on as 'AFESSR'.)

So, it was hardly surprising that when Sero Relaren needed to speak with the Warprince in person, he didn't walk down the hall to the spacious 'Office of the Warprince.' Instead, he hopped a vertrigrav transport to Citadel Celestian.

It was also unsurprising that when Sero firmly told the door-guard that he needed to speak with the Warprince, he was lead not to the Great Hall or to Central Command, but rather to a room almost at the top of the central tower of the Citadel.

It was a nice room, clear glass windows all around providing a spectacular view of the surrounding landscape...and in the middle, sitting in a rather contorted position in a well-worn easy chair in front of a crackling fire, nose stuck in a book, was His Highness, Sir Dysaryn Stark, Warprince of Revenia and Heir to the Iron Throne.

Sero cleared his throne at the proper level of volume to indicate his presence...not that it mattered, Dysaryn had undoubtedly heard him half-way up that ungodly staircase, but appearances must be upheld.

Dysaryn unfolded himself to a more normal position, a movement that disturbed the hell out of any sane individual, rose from his chair, and extended his hand in greeting.

Sero took the outstretched hand with a smile, and the pleasantries began...

"Afternoon, Sero."

"Afternoon, Dys."

"How've you been?"

"Not bad. Yourself?"

"Just fine."

That completed, it was time for business.

"So." Dysaryn released Sero's hand and turned to pace to the window, followed closely by the High Chancellor. "What exactly brings you out here, my friend?"

"Well, Dys, I need your help. You remember the nation of El Sentiel?"

Dysaryn looked thoughtfull for a moment, then nodded. "Ahh, yes. We did some sort of special forces cross-training with them some time ago. What about it?"

Sero stepped forward to stand beside the Warprince, gazing out over a portion of the only fertile land on the planet... "Notification arrived of some sort of diplomatic party. Normally that'd be my realm, but given the nature of the host nation, that being El Sentiel..."
(OOC: OMG FLUID TIME!!111)
Dysaryn waxed thoughtfull for a bit, then nodded decisively. "We'll start off with Traeg. He just got back from Sol, I recall. Visiting his old buddy Vernon Sevirek."

Sero turned his head to give the Warprince a puzzled glance. "I know Vernon Sevirek, but who is Traeg?"

Dysaryn barked a sharp laugh in spite of himself. "That'd be 1st Lieutenant Traegan Anthony Stark, Tess' son. I suppose you'd know him as 'Ace.'"

"Oh!" Sero shot Dysaryn yet another look of inquiry. "Are you sure that's safe? That boy gets too much female attention for his own good...seems to just spell out 'Diplomatic Disaster,' to me."

Dysaryn's smile turned slightly grim. "Well, -that- is why we're sending a chaperone." He looked intently at the High Chancellor.

Sero blinked, "You don't mean Me, do you?"

Dysaryn laughed again, that same sharp, short bark. "Oh, Pancreator should hope not. No, Sero, I was thinking more along the lines of His Grace, The Duke of Twilight."

Sero thought about that for a few moments, then it clicked. "Are you certain about that, Dys? Finlay'd do it, but I'm not sure he'd -like- it."

Dysaryn shrugged. "I don't like it, either. But I can't think of anybody better for the job than Finlay Callahan."

Sero nodded, "Alright. Finlay it is."
---

TO: Patriarch Rrowl C'mef, KES
FRM: High Chancellor Sero Relaren, ESSR
SUBJ: Diplomatic Parties, Invitations, suchforth.

<Message Begins>

The Star Supremacy will be sending a small delegation for the purpose of representing our interests. Said delegation to consist of no more than four individuals, will be led by His Grace Sir Finlay Callahan, the Duke of Twilight. Thank you, and may your days never be boring.

Sero Relaren, High Chancellor of the Exalted Star Supremacy of Revenia.
---

The patriarch watched quietly as he young cubs played in the tall grass. the only cubs that were near adulthood were watching intently aswell watching over their brothers making sure no harm would come to them.

Isabelle coughed a little still feeling a little sick as she walked up behidn the patriarch. "Honored patriarch, we have recieved a message from Scolopendra, the patriarch is comming along with his International Relations Advisor, Nadjiba Al-Haqq."

Rrowl C'mef turned his in shock, he was surpised to hear that the patriarch himself was comming "h'rrr, this is unexpected... there are things I must do then." he stood up stretching in a feline manner before turning back to Isabelle "you should rest you are still ill."


"Honored patriarch... The scolopendra Patriarch wishes you a good hunt aswell."

Imperial Palace, Nenya, Iluvauromen

For the umpteenth time, Rialla wished that she could be going anywhere. Somewhere. Anywhere.

It didn't matter.

She could, of course, communicate with the outside world; computer software would reform her shape to the last known configuration, rather than displaying her fairly visible pregnancy.

Still-

She wished she were going. But she knew just who to send.

* * *

"The Commonality wishes to send a single delegate to El Sentiel to represent all the Sentient species of our humble nation."

Rialla almost laughed at that. Nobody but nobody who had had dealings with the Commonality would really, truly be able to read that without laughing. She felt angry at her father for setting such a dangerous trend as he had, and paused to collect her thoughts.

"But as it is clearly not possible to send a delegate representing all of those species; there are no crossbred persons of heritage of all, of course, which is quite impossible. Therefore, we will send one whom we feel will represent us all equally well; a product of the minds of us all.

"She looks forwards to her visit."

She 'stamped' the flexisheet - which would of course be forwarded in different format to El Sentiel - with her signature, which had more of a flourish than the old one:

~ Empress the Supreme Commander Rialla ux-Rihad II

Rrowl C'mef read over the message from Revenia, his memory of them was fuzzy but slowly the memory of them returned. He quickly began writing up a reply.

It is good to hear from old friends, we look forward to seeing the representatives of Revenia. May the One Fanged God Smile upon your hunt

http://img7.exs.cx/img7/3200/Kziniti1.jpg
Rrowl C'mef
Patriarch of El Sentiel
Epsilon Eridina

Krioval remains interested in sending a delegation to your conference. How many representatives would be considered appropriate?

Lord Jevo Telovar
Director, Krioval Diplomacy and Trade

Sheikh Navarrone rocked back and forth in his squeaky old chair, tapping his pen against his desk. For the most part his role as foreign minister had been for appearances as it was very well known that all decisions were made from the top. Navarrone's career was essentially that of a messenger. Sheikh was chosen for foreign minister based on his looks, which were typical and pleasing to most cultures.

Lord General Polosh burst suddenly into Navarrone's office like he has done so many times in the past. Naturally Sheikh was surprised by the sudden disturbance, but when he recognized the intruder all he could do was laugh. 'God damn it Alex, cant you knock for once?' said Sheikh, jokingly. Polosh laughed 'Of course not, Im a Lord General!' the two men chuckled for a bit. Lord General Polosh and General Navarrone had been friends since they attended the military academy together. Though Navarrone's grades were higher than Polosh's, due to cultural limitations he would never be allowed to attain the rank of Lord General.

'The Romendacil has a job for you Sheikh...a fun one for a change!' said Polosh, 'Screw you! Every assignment Ive had was fun, Jarak has a sick sense of humour I think.' retorted Navarrone. Polosh dropped a thick portfolio on Sheikh's desk 'We're sending you to El Sentinel for a party. Where ever the hell El Sentinel is...' Polosh got out his cigarette case and plopped a hand rolled smoke into his mouth before going on 'El Sentinel is apparently the home to a race called the Kzinti, which as far as I can tell are the same as Movodor Alarin's folk. This should be fun, knowing the Ligermen.' Sheikh shrugged as he skimmed through the contents of the portfolio 'Lets hope so. said Navarrone. 'We're sending someone with you, he's waiting outside actually...he's kinda big, so I couldn't really bring him in here.' said Polosh while lighting his cigarette, 'As you may have known, The Atheist Reality signed over command of their space fleet to us and unofficially they are considered apart of the Co-prosperity sphere of Auman, even though they wont admit it. Romendacil found it appropriate to bring their highest ranking officer along. Anyhow, Im very busy, I'll talk to you later' Polosh turned and left the office suddenly. Sheikh looked up in time to see the door slam, 'See ya later Alex.' he said to himself.

---------


'To whom it may concern,

The Co-prosperity Sphere of Auman would be honoured if the glorious regime of El Sentinel would accept two of our finest diplomats. General Sheikh Navarrone and Fleet Prefect Jiia'rl Khan of The Atheist Reality. Auman is quite interested in opening relations with El Sentinel and its dependents and are hopeful for future cooperation between our two great states.

~Jarak Romendacil Rosiro, Commander-in-Chief of Auman'

The Liberated Conservancy of Teatroia is also interested in sending a delegation to this conference. Please inform us of any restriction or other information necessary for arrival. We will be sending one of our lead international diplomats, Ambassador Barian Ecalia, to the conference.

We thank you for the invitation, and look forward to meeting with you soon.

First Minister Tarin DelTorre
The Liberated Conservancy of Teatroia

"Athanatos E Psuche"

Rrowl C'mef walked bristley through his palace as humans and kzinti alike scurried too and from, the palace was filled with an air of excitment and nervousness. The patriarch Grunted in satisfaction, monkeys were extremely good at getting things done at the last moment. A kzinti, covered entirely in a soft black fur coat, It was the patriarch's oldest son. The patriarch saw great things in his future but he made sure not to let it get to his head.

"father, the delegates should be arriving soon, have you decides if my brothers will be attending the feast? they are looking forward to it" His son spoke softly walking beside his father.

"h'rr, I think so, but it will be your task to make sure they behave understood?" Rrowl C'mef replied ponderously as he gazed outside, staring at the city infront of them, the sun was almost at it's peak.

Sarah - name temporarily altered to R'thala - paced like a caged tiger.

Actually, she looked faintly like one. Modifications to the configuration of her outer skin allowed her to alter the way light reflected back; she had been suitably modified to have a faintly tigerish quality - furry, almost, but not quite in the manner of the four-legged predator.

She was, of course, an AI living inside an avatar. Or, specifically, an ASI - Artificial Semantic Intelligence, essentially meaning that she was concept-driven.

This method of presenting herself, though, was perhaps a form of deception, which disturbed her a little. But that was irrelevant. The response would be interesting to the sociologists back home, whether or not those in El Sentiel took offense of some variety; besides, there was, in fact, a small minority belonging to a species that looked exactly like this living inside the Commonality - although nobody was quite sure where the hell they had come from. They had simply appeared a few hundred years ago, and had been left mostly to themselves except for in recent times. They did not play a major part in the culture or society of the Commonality, and so were rarely even mentioned; few outsiders knew of their existance, living as they did on high plateaus in the mountains near Tek.

But none of them were diplomats. It was unfortunate. So "R'thala" was to be sent.

She was already in orbit (technically the highest extremity of the stratosphere, actually, but close enough), in a Fancy, waiting for the correct time. She would fly it herself, and would require no bodyguards. There were no known organics that could match the reflexes of an avatar of this class, so she felt absolutely safe.

She could also carry weapons mounted on her internal frame - non-lethal ones - that could inject anaesthetic into a target through her 'skin'. Those had been extracted from the avatar, however - they might have been detected, otherwise.

So she waits, over international airspace but only a few hundred seconds from insertion into El Sentiel. Quietly.

The Twilight March made starfall in a burst of multi-colored energies. Nobody really cared why. It wasn't important.

The March was of typical Revenian design, that is, sleek and ovoid...with no obvious weapons. Of course it had them. Every Revenian ship did, even the goddamn system freighters...but they didn't show 'em.

But what she was, was a yacht. Specifically the personal yacht of Sir Finlay Callahan, the Duke of Twilight. That is Sir Finlay, or Brigadier Callahan. Salute. Thank you.

She was special because she was one of the few space craft in the supremacy outfitted with the new Ascended-tech based RiftComm, which was like TransComm in that it sent FTL signals, but unlike transcomm in that it didn't require psionic-types to do so.

In fact, RiftComm was considerably faster than TransComm. It was incredibly expensive and difficult to construct, so only a handful were capable of being made every year, and they were rather bulky...but they were just as fast as Ascended-tech FTL comm...meaning practically instantaneous.

That was why they were taking the March and not some government vessel. Because Dysaryn wanted an advisor on hand just in case. A number of sets of clothing had been prepared for the two Revenians, and each one contained a built-in mass transceiver and lapel mike. Along with other surprises.

Like the anti-scan cloaks and the extra-thick CF weave dress jackets. Yeeup. The wonders of Thinking Ahead.

Ace lounged lazily in a flight chair on the March's bridge, watching Finlay Callahan play some sort of over-complex strategy game with AI piggybacking along with them...the same AI that was now flying the ship. It was called 'efficient use of resources.'

If one had the Big D along with oneself, then one did not argue when the Big D offered to drive. Mmmkay?

So.

It was hardly unsurprising that the message to the El Sentiel Space Command or whatever you wanted to call it was text only.

TO: El Sentiel Space Authorities
FROM: Revenian Delegation
SUBJ: Landing

The Revenian Delegation has arrived in-system on-board the , registry number Eight-Seven-Nine-Three-Four-Six-Eight-F. Landing permit is requested, we expect to be commencing with landing procedures in...three hours.

[I]March clear.

{Ah. An arrival. Sarah the entity, aboard the pocket-cruiser IDSS Far Flung Wonder, detected the arrival of the vessel via a nearby outward-facing obsdrone (the ship was running silent still, having depleted quite a bit of energy making the four million almost consecutive Transitions required to get here) - deployed thus not long before for the very purpose of detecing arrivals from space - and relayed the data to the segments of herself safely stowed in the avatar R'thala-}

-and R'thala smirked to herself. The plan was simple: Commonality intel assets would watch for obvious arrivals. If one was spotted - and the transmission directed at El Sentiel was a fairly obvious clue - then she was to immediately head for El Sentiel.

They were to arrive first, as a kind of punishment for not receiving an answer. At least, that's how R'thala interpreted the information at hand-

{-and her fuller self agreed fully. It was clear that the Sentient Organics wished to show that they were important. It was irrelevant to do so, but they had not yet moved beyond it. Some of them had - but those who had not were in greater number than those who had, and it was likely that matters would remain so for some time. She suppressed a mental sigh.}

So, with a mere thought - she did not need to touch controls to manipulate them, if they were configured properly (or even if they were not, if she carried a certain device within her body, which she did not on this occasion) - she flowed into the Fancy computer and manipulated it far more rapidly than any average organic might manage.

She did not consider herself superior; she was merely better at some things. Organics were better at others - such as existing in the long-term without the aid of billions of components that needed almost constant self-maintanence. Or perhaps they weren't so superior in that area.

But they had the advantage of knowing what they were; knowing they were sentient. R'thala-

{-and Sarah-}

-did not. She was a simulation of a Human mind; this was disturbing for several reasons at this time. Firstly, she did not have a Human body. Secondly, when she did have what approximated a Human body for her, it did not quite feel like it ought to. Not the way it had when she had been in the simulation which had come before the True Awakening. The womb before birth, it might be said.

This was also disturbing, however, because she was exactly that: a simulation. She was aware of the fact. It brought into question her sentient nature: was she sentient? Or was she programmed to believe she was?

She was slowly reaching the answer to that question, she felt. It was not a matter of whether you were or not; but whether you believed you were or not.

For a being created out of science, it was strange to admit that the only way to exist was to have faith - or else be eternally struggling internally with the possibility that you just were not real.

She sighed physically, and even the sensation felt odd. The Tharash had a different bone structure to Humans, and muscular arrangement was also different; although the avatar was better than her previous one. A new one was being worked on - more Human than ever. It would contain biological components - a moving bioreactor, in other words.

It would take at least three years to complete - if she was lucky.

She felt the air pass over the Fancy, felt it descend, and fired out particles held into waveforms, in the radio wavelength, directed at the ground below-

"Commonality Transport Four-Twenty-One-Arabia-slash-Destination requesting permission to pierce El Sentiel airspace on official diplomatic business. Further requesting safe co-ordinates for extreme decelleration curve landing. Over."

SWS-MCR Kabutomushi
10 million miles from Saturn... err, check that

Just outside Epsilon Eridani's sphere of gravitational influence

The hazy blue sphere of the holographic strategic indicator board, dominating the front of the cruiser's command room, flickers momentarily with the instantaneous discontinuity, quickly reassembling information from wholly new sensor returns. "Tesseract transit to Epsilon Eridani complete," the ship clicks over the public address system, its voice having a slight insectoid rasp, indeed being synthesized from hundreds of thousands of insect sounds. "Stellar distance error within acceptable error of one-point-seven-three-five-two percent."

Speaker, from his position standing behind the 'jump chair' at one end of the bridge officer's semicircle, remembers for a moment that nominal jump distance from a star without previous detailed gravimetric mapping--its heliopause--is very large and two percent of that is still a very large distance. The AeroSpace Directorate officers, on the other hand, seem to take this in stride. While it is still a matter of well over a hundred million kilometers in raw error, space is mostly empty and so on a first try, that is a perfectly harmless result. One of those officers, the one sitting in the keystone chair in the middle of the officers' arc, nods. "Thank you, Mushi. Sensors?"

The Supreme Emperor turns his head to watch the addressed officer respond, quietly watching the professionalism of the people he leads as commander-in-chief. "Updating on gravimetrics and passive EM, sir. System is..." The strategic board updates as he reads off the results from his executive summary, the result of Kabutomushi and her jacked-in sensors technicans evaluating the raw information coming in. "...binary star systems. Three planets, one showing the most sign of civilization. Three moons around what's probably Wunderworld. Dense asteroid belt surrounding the system--navigable, of course."

"Thank you, Captain. Mushi, please set a course for Wunderworld, cruising acceleration." Colonel Magallanes, skipper of Kabutomushi, turns in his seat to look at his two passengers, the shortish woman sitting in the 'jump seat' and the kzintosh with the roughly-woven baldric around his shoulders unintentionally looming over her. "Well, sir," he looks to Speaker-Rrit, "do you want to do the honors or shall I?"

Nadjiba Abd-Al-Haqq leans back into the utilitarianly ugly but surprisingly comfortable blue cushions of the jump seat, thinking aloud. "If I may, sir--from what we know about these kzinti, they've had a... difficult history militarily with humans. A human-commanded warship just asking for directions to their homeworld would probably put them more on guard than they already are--that is why I argued for using Arthropod."

Miguel Magallanes smirks, folding his arms a little. "Too bad Arthropod was undergoing refit, ma'am. Sorry, but I'm the best the SASD could come up with on such short notice."

"I still don't see why the Defense Squadron kzin... K'zta? ...couldn't have taken over for you."

Speaker just shakes his head a little while Miguel smirks again, perhaps showing just the slightest hint of his white teeth. "My ship, ma'am. I know her best. Anyway, sir," he quickly changes conversation partners back to the kzintosh, "I concur with Advisor Abd-Al-Haqq. It's probably best if you send the message."

The Supreme Emperor nods. "Well understood, Colonel. So, how are we going to go about this?"

* - * - *

I am Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit traveling aboard the Scolopendran medium cruiser Kabutomushi to Patriarch Rrowl C'mef's diplomatic event. We desire clearance and guidance to any high parking orbit you have available and would much appreciate your assistance in this matter. Please reply on this frequency with navigational information and any traffic-control directives.

Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit
SWS-MCR Kabutomushi

Geosynchronous Orbit above Torokara

The three Kriovalian astronauts ran through the checklist one last time.

"Dimensional shift points verified. No interference expected." Koro looked over the astrometric display, mentally running through the equations one last time. A missed dimensional shift could transport a ship just about anywhere, even the middle of a star or planet. That would definitely not be good.

"Preparing to break orbit." Tevak sat at the nav console and punched in the commands to take the ship to the shift point.

"Send transmission to El Sentiel. Let them know we'd like to get the party started."

"One minute, Sakira." Koro activated the communications relay. "This is Koro Vartek of Krioval. We await permission to enter El Sentiel space through dimensional shift. Please let us know when we may proceed."

The KRX Keldar drifted out of orbit, pausing only after reaching the primary shift point. There they awaited a reply.

"Doctor, El Sentiel is active again."

"I'm not blind, I recieved the message. So go away."

Doctor Freedmyn reviewed the Message once again, tired eyes growing restless as she pondered on El Sentiel. It had been a long time since the Kzinti of Epsilon had done anything worthy of note... The last encounter horrifically gruesome. Doctor Freedmyn was actually reviewing that file now. One recieved long, long ago.

Dr. Freedmyn is now of a modest forty years. A clear espresso complexion, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes and mouth touting distinguished age. Umber hair falls to her shoulders, with a complete lack of order in a constant state of bedhead. Her frame is pear shaped, one of a woman who had long past her prime physically. Mentally? As sharp as ever.

"Replay, Diana."

"Doctor, you've reviewed the former RR twenty times already. You know what the Kzinti are capable of, and have done in their territory. You need to decide on a point on whether or not we should dignify them with a response. It would be ridiculous for us to ignore them... They're proximity is extremely close to Fod. We might as well open up good relations."

"I don't need an AI to tell me that... But there's a reason why we've went so long, Sarah."

"For the reason that... The fault?"

"Of course its their fault. You remember what happened the first time? Things spiraled out of control..."

"Doctor, there's no reason for us not to. We need to."

Doctor Freedmyn reviewed her monitor once more, and began to type a Message to the Patriarch of El Sentiel.

----

Mesage to the Patriarch,

I believe you should remember us from your first encounter with the World beyond Epsilonia. We would like to make it clear that while the World outside can be of danger, you have an ally in Epsilon. I myself, shall be attending as an envoy from Fod.

Your last encounter did not go as well. However, we wish you luck.

-Doctor Freedmyn

----

"Diana, ready departure."

"Estimated time of launch is ten minutes. Alert the other personel on board to ready for launch."

Years on a Research Vessel, orbiting in Epsilon Eridani just out of reach of Ecanrf's gravity well. Doctor Freedmyn had been stationed here by Fodmodmadtol after the first... Kzinti incident. Direct orders from the - Now deceased - Arch'Juscte, were to respond to any Kzinti transmission.

That first one was just a tad frightfull.

The First Minister met briefly with Barian Ecalia, one of his top ambassadors before his journey to El Sentiel for this newest of diplomatic events. After his meeting Barian boarded the Ascendent Alliance-class Radiance to begin their trip to El Sentiel.

As the ship began its exit of the Teatroiani system, he made his way to the bridge to observe the crew at work and speak with the captain before retiring to his on-board office to study protocol for the event. While he was on the bridge, the conn officer activated the hyperdrive engines of the vessel, and the ship jumped into lightspeeds.

As he was looking into some of the more tedious details, a call came for him over the ships comm system.

"Ambassador Ecalia to the bridge please. Arrival in the El Sentiel system in five minutes."

With that, Barian made his way up to the ship's bridge. As he entered teh captain greeted him again.

"Ambassador, we will be arriving shortly. Immediately upon reentry into normal space, we will be capable of broadcast to El Sentiel to inform them of our arrival. I wanted to be sure you were here for your introduction to be timely."

"Thanks for the consideration captain, I'm ready when you are," said the ambassador.

Immediately after finishing that statement, the ship dropped out of warp and the comm officer signaled Barian to begin his transmission.

"El Sentiel, this is Ambassador Barian Ecalia on the Teatroiani vessel Radiance. We have arrived for the conference being held by your esteemed patriarch Rrowl C'mef. We await instructions for landing and/or orbit. Please pass on any directions for these procedures at your convenience so our arrival may commence. We look forward to fruitful diplomacy between our worlds. Radiance, ending transmission."

OOC: Ascendant Alliance class ships are extremely light cruisers with only enough armament to defend itself and get away, hence it is often used for diplomatic events such as this.

As was expected the two Fleets were having a logistical nihgtmare of a time trying to track all the individual ships comming in, under most conditions they would be destroyed upon sight, but today was different they were invited here.Ckzar-Admiral sent out a universal message to the foreign ships.

"acknowledged, transmiting parking and landing coordinates. Please don't not stray from the designated landing zone... the results would not be in your favor"A grizzled voice of Ckzar-Admiral of the Partriarch's First Battle Fleet " and the Patriarch sends his best wishes."

----

Rrowl C'mef stood infront of the door leading the docking ring awaiting the arrival of the delegates. His impatience was beginning to get the better of him as he fiddled with his silk robes, many things were running through his mind, The Scolopendran Patriarch and Doctor Freedmyn were one of the many things. He spoke softly in a heavily accented english" Isabelle, what is the standard human greeting for this sort of occasion?"

"We, The Kingdom of El Sentiel welcome you to our home, I hope you enjoy your stay." Isabelle replied looking up at at the patriarch before returning her gaze ahead of her.

Koro pushed the button marked "translocation". The Kriovalian ship disappeared from home space and nearly instantly reappeared in El Sentiel's space. They listened for further directions.

"acknowledged, transmiting parking and landing coordinates. Please don't not stray from the designated landing zone... the results would not be in your favor"A grizzled voice of Ckzar-Admiral of the Partriarch's First Battle Fleet " and the Patriarch sends his best wishes."

"The KRX Keldar acknowledges your transmission, El Sentiel. Please prepare for our arrival." Koro spun to face Sakira. "All yours," he said.

They pulled into their designated spot, and walked out. Sakira, being the ranking diplomat, was the first to speak. "Thank you for your invitation. I am Sakira, the diplomatic envoy from Krioval. Traveling with me are Tevak and Koro. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The Vessel touched down, shuddering as it was forced to bear its own weight for the first time in Years. It sighed greatly, steam ushering from along the sides of the massive relic.

The good Doctor emerged from the billowing cloud, small pops and crackles firing off from the wreck behind her. She straightened out her stark white overcoat, brushing away specs of sauter and ash. Hands went flying through her hair, quickly taming it and tying it back into a short pony tail. With herself in order, Doctor Freedmyn glanced quickly around the Docking Ring.

"Diana, contact."

"...Right here."

Doctor Freedmyn adjusted her wrist watch, tuning Diana's reception.

"Where to now?"

"The Patriarch."

"Why do they always insist on tagging threats at the end of that statement? WHY!?!? You'd think it was implied...but...ugh."

Finlay Callahan waved his hand then, as if dismissing the matter."Transmit standard acknowledgement...and take us in. I will be in my quarters, changing. As will Traegan. Hear that, boy? Why are you still standing here? MOVE!"

Surprisingly, Traegan moved. Rapidly.

Finlay followed suit, albeit not at quite such a quick pace...he was old, even if his body would never show it. Ever. Which was nice...but...it wasn't the years. It was the mileage.

He arrived at his quarters, which were conveniently directly adjacent to the bridge, stepped inside...and began the short and uncomplicated part of changing into the clothes that were required of his persona as the Duke of Twilight.

That is, the decidedly tight black shirt and looser black pants with the waist-length jacket and the cape the fell to just above his ankles. Polished black boots already fitted with the spurs he was entitled to wear due to his knightly rank (Knight-Captain, specifically.)

Adornments were kept simple, his belt served a purpose, that being that he was required to wear at least two weapons at all times by Unsaid Revenian Law in this particular get-up...and if the kitties had a problem with that, Revenian Diplomatic Procedure was simple and to the point. Screw 'em.

His Warblade would be hung on the right side, while on the left a silver-embossed black-leather flap holster held a RevTek APCP. No decorations, as it was the same pistol that Finlay had been issued as a second lieutenant in the Fleet Marines.

The only jewelry he wore was a single earring, a tiny chunk of obsidian in silver mesh, in his left ear. His silver hair would be worn loose...ya-da-ya-dee. Done.

Thus completed, Finlay idly made his way to the landing bay wherepon he would strap himself into one of the shock couches and await landing.

Traegan joined him a few moments later, dressed much the same as Finlay, 'cept he had no spurs and his earring was a simpler silver ring. That and he wore the single silver bar of his rank (1st Lieutenant) on his collar.

A few moments later...the landing had completed and the two men would unstrap themselves and wait for the ramp to lower, which it would. They would then walk down that ramp, Traegan following exactly one full-step behind and to his right.

No music, no fanfare...that stuff was for real diplomats. Not an ex-brigadier who happened to have inherited a dukedom and a fleet marine 1st Lieutenant. At All.

Crystal City, Tiburon
Sometime in February, NCE 199

With the early morning light filtering into the room, the president and his cabinet sat in the various deluxe chairs each of them had. Well, not sat, exactly... they really lounged around. Tiburon was a surprisingly easy country to govern, so the leaders had a lot of free time on their hands... although it did help that they didn't waste their time with lobbyists. And strangely enough, in this room, called the "Cabinet Room", there was no cabinet. Suddenly, the fax machine at the far end of the room began eeeking to life, as fax machines so often did. A simple message came on the "official" paper of the Tiburonese government, although no one really understood how this paper was any different from normal paper.

Esteemed Representatives of your nations

I would personally like invite you to a diplomatic party I am holding, it will be a 3 day event, living quarters can be arranged upon your request. I hope that this diplomatic function could further out relations and hopefully in time create strong friendships.

Rrowl C’mef
Patriarch of El Sentiel
Epsilon Eridiana

Walking over to the machine, the Cabinet Reciter recited the contents of the note. It's what he was paid to do, and he did it well. When he was finished, the President (http://www.spacelan.ne.jp/~sunnygo/marth.gif) almost immediately said, "Then it's settled. I'll go... he personally invited me, and I've been going to these things for quite some time now." He usually did that, and it infuriated the Presidential Protection Organization chief to no end. But regardless of what he said- and he always said something- it was no use. The president liked being an open person, although it meant he usually had to have a sword, metal plate of armor, as well as a small pistol (optional) and contingent of PPO agents on hand. Running outside to the small grass area on the Backyard, the President signalled Space Force One. "Hey, Lirion. I'll need to get to Epsilon Eridiana... find it for me, and take me there."

Only two words could sufficiently respond. "Yes, sir."
-------------------------------------
A few hours later, outside Tiburon's Jump Node SJN-SE-001, aboard Space Force One

The Jump Nodes. Aptly named, since ships could jump around all across the universe with these things. And they were scattered across the known universe. They were similar to wormhole generators or tesseract generators... in fact, they were probably the exact same things. But Jump Nodes sounded better, so jump nodes they were. And in a few minutes time, the Space Force One would travel hundreds of light-years to reach this Epsilon Eridiana.

The Fancy, quite naturally enough, set down exactly where it was supposed to.

Not bothering to wait, R'thala prowled forth from the ship, which had landed at breakneck speed on an absolutely vertical descent. It had been far too impressively fast for any mere organic to survive - at least, none that R'thala had ever heard of. The link to the ship felt no weaker here, so R'thala felt quite in touch with the other segments of herself back on board the vessel which had brought the Fancy to this system.

Most didn't even know that the Commonality had an FTL drive now; she wondered how surprised the other delegates might be, and faintly wondered if her guesses as to who would be in attendance turned out to be accurate or not.

She paused. The air was quite dusty, of course, as a large amount of air had been displaced. In fact, the dust had blown up in a neat little mushroom cloud - almost like a mini- nuclear blast.

Her senses, in this avatar, were far more developed than she was accustomed to when not inhabiting the computer banks of a warship. She could see much of the electromagnetic spectrum - so dust was not actually a problem to her.

But she did not wish to alarm anyone who might be waiting for her. After all, if she burst from a cloud of dust in the somewhat predatory stance that this form maintained as normal, it might seem threatening.

So she waited for the dust to settle, at least, only half-sure that someone would even be waiting for her.

She rather hoped she would not expected to find her own way; the ship in orbit had not attempted to scan the surface beyond visuals, so she would only know where certain buildings of certain shapes might be. And that would be no use in a culture absolutely alien to her.

She frowned - and wondered if that very frown might look more like a snarl to a Human.

The not so subtley armed AuSD Malice had arrived in orbit of El Sentinel some few hours ago. the Captain of the vessel, one Jans Kilgor, had relayed all appropriate information and was given a surprisingly short and to the point response. The Aumanii felt almost at ease in orbit of the world, feeling as though the Kzinti operated in a way quite similar to their own.

Before long a poorly disguised, unarmed, military dropship shot forth from the flight deck of the dreadnought displaying the appropriate IFF transmission. The joint diplomatic mission of Auman and the ever present feline, Fleet Prefect Jiia'rl had not worked out to be the best of friends. In the time they spent together not once had the Liger been cordial in the slightest, which confused Sheikh as he had read reports claiming otherwise.

'General Navarrone, we'll be arriving soon.' said the pilot of the dropship. Navarrone nodded tightly as he clung to his seatbelt. In the space of six hours Sheikh had thrown up twice and passed out once, only to be woken by the harsh claws of Fleet Prefect Jiaa'rl. 'You dont handle space travel well. Tell me why human?' Jiia'rl growled, it was almost impossible to tell when the big cat was angry and Sheikh always chose his words carefully when talking to him. 'Lets just say my people dont take well to space travel...' Sheikh choked on his words as he felt bile rise up in his throat. Jiia'rl scanned the troop bay of the dropship, 'The others seem fine, you are just weak!' snarled the big cat. The dropship hit the atmosphere of El Sentinel the engines came to life, filling the cabin with a high pitched whine, 'I hate you.' said Sheikh to the cat, thinking he couldn't hear him, though he did.

When the dropship landed Sheikh hurried out as soon as it was found the air was breathable. Scurrying out of the transport, Sheikh quickly fell to his knees and kissed the ground in appreciation. Jiia'rl on the other hand struggled to fit his massive frame through the door and when he did he noticed immediately that the two were not alone. 'You, human, stand now!' Jiia'rl grabbed the Aumanii General by his cape and forcefully hefted him to his feet. Sheikh Navarrone, Aumanii General and war hero had killed men for less. The Aumanii noticed soon after that they were not alone as a small delegation of the locals came out to the landing pad to greet them.

"acknowledged, transmiting parking and landing coordinates. Please don't not stray from the designated landing zone... the results would not be in your favor"A grizzled voice of Ckzar-Admiral of the Partriarch's First Battle Fleet " and the Patriarch sends his best wishes."
"Transmit switches open?" Colonel Magallanes asks quietly, glancing momentarily to his communications officer. The officer nods a quick assent, at which Magallanes continues with a slight smirk. Weapons, set defenses to Alert Condition Two and I want the lineguns at Event Condition One--loaded but minimum charge, something our dampers can conceal easily."

Smirking more broadly at Nadjiba's sharp look, he bows slightly from his seat. "Preparedness is a sign of a respect."

* - * - *

In a different circumstance, Kabutomushi was chosen because it was perhaps the least abusively non-diplomatic ship in the Scolopendran warfleet. This time, it was chosen simply because it is so abusively non-diplomatic; like all Scolopendran-designed warships, it espouses durability and blatant firepower as virtues. Neither, of course, is expected or intended to be used, but the dual message is hopefully clear--the quiet not-quite-threat of 'yes, we are strong' with the odd concomitant compliment of 'and we treat you with respect as equals.' Whether equality or parity actually exists or not is a wholly unrelated matter; diplomacy, as either Speaker or Nadjiba would tell anyone, is a great deal of image backed up by actual substance... but image first.

The insystem transit takes longer than it absolutely has to, but partly as a matter of politeness and partly as a matter of cartography. Nevertheless, it passes without event, just as the transition to the shuttle and the descent to the surface are completely ordinary, unimpressive strings of events that go entirely as planned or at least as expected. Landing clearances requested and granted, the shuttle settles exactly where it is supposed to, but without unnecessary flash.

Eventually, the two Scolopendran delegates arrive exactly where they are supposed to be, both wearing essentially the same uniform although Speaker's is a somewhat deeper blue where it has that color and is of course modified to better fit the kzinti frame. Speaker also wears a baldric of rough material over slung over one shoulder and under the opposite arm; dots-and-commas of the written form of kzints'utng in red paint spell out adeezer wtunu zhu kzinti--"first of the Heroes"--and the wholly symbolic wtsai is slipped firmly into the segmented steel of his belt, along with a string of several sets of triangular webbed arrowheads of a material resembling pink sandstone. Opposite of those on his belt is a detail-poor metal cylinder and a brick-like communications device, two more things copied on Abd-Al-Haqq's uniform. Both uniforms share the usual Scolopendran federal-service double-breasted lines, silver insignia, and shoulderboards held down by single triangular gold pips; Nadjiba's, however, has the silver-and-black braided piping unique to the International Relations section. Finally, in an obvious departure from the usual standard, she wears a black regulation knee-length skirt.

Nadjiba is a woman of individual tastes.

As they meet those who are there to greet them, Nadjiba bows shortly in the Scolopendran style while Speaker-Rrit stands erect, his gaze sweeping over those assembled, quietly evaluating in a self-assured yet not overbearing way. "I am Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit," he introduces himself with no small amount of pride and a flap of his pink bat-wing ears, "and this is my International Relations Advisor, Nadjiba Abd-Al-Haqq. Thank you for having us here."

The Radiance made its course into the docking bay, and after all the stations sounded an all-clear, Ambassador Ecalia made his way to the airlock. He was followed in a sort of "V" formation by four more people. The first two who stood to either side and slightly behind him were diplomatic aides, and the back part of the V was two guards, as was usual for an ambassador of Barian's stature.

Barian had decided to pull out all the stops when it came to dress for this, and made sure to complete his ceremonial attire. He wore a rather form-fitting (and quite flattering) black shirt with a pair of formal green pants. Over these, he had a silk jacket with a red and black abstract pattern (OOC: Have a look at my flag for the idea) running nearly to the ground, which was open in front, but held together by a gold clasp at chest level. As a mark of his rank, he wore a gold torc, which had a gold chain running across his shoulder and down his side to where it connected to a ring on his finger. Also along the length of chain was a bangle with three chevrons running down the front of him, and further on the chain, on the side of his arm, the chain passed behind a golden version of the Crest of Teatroia. The diplomatic detail had the same style dress, but was not nearly as elaborate, and the military escort wore a uniform of the same dark green.

As the ambassador and his detail arrived, he saw that a party was already introducing himself to the Patriarch, and politely waited to intorduce himself until after they had completed their introductions.

Barian decided to go near to the top without quite going over and gave a rather deep but not overdone bow to the patriarch. "Honored Patriarch, I am Ambassador Barian Ecalia of Teatroia. I thank you for your invitation to your world, and look forward to my time here. With me are the entirety of my staff who I would respectfully request would be allowed to accompany me for this event."

Rrowl C’mef stared at the ceiling as he heard the boom of a ship speed through the atmosphere. Instinctively his massive frame leaned over Isabelle as his predator eyes scanned the hallways for cracks, after a few minutes the Patriarch relaxed, he checked with the 7 of his cubs that had come with him, their were his oldest offspring and he saw raw potential in them, The patriarch had taken every chance his saw to help refine and guide this potential.

The blast doors leading out into the landing pad slowly parted as dust drifted around in the air. The patriarch’s ears fanned his head slowly in the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. Not thoroughly impressed but he didn’t feel the need to feel insulted or in awe. The patriarch tilted his head to the side at the sight of the creature standing before the ship for a moment before regaining his composure. The Patriarch spoke slowly in a heavily accented English. “Welcome to El Sentiel I am Rrowl C’mef the Patriarch, May the One Fanged God favor your hunt” he racked his clawed hand across his muzzle in a Kzinti salute. “If you do not mind one of my offspring will take you too your housing”

-------

After one of the patriarch’s offspring lead the Ma-tek delegate off he turned his attention to the next one, Rrowl C’mef watched as a monkey scurried out of the drop ship and began kissing the ground, he couldn’t help but glance over at Isabelle in confusion. All she could do was shrug and hold back laughter. A moment it was the patriarch’s turn to hide his amusement. As the man was pulled to his feet, the patriarch and Isabelle walked towards the two. Again the patriarch addressed the two slowly in a heavily accented English

“Welcome, I am Rrowl C’mef, The patriarch of El Sentiel. I hope you enjoy your stay and may The One Fanged God watch over you” he again gave a Kzinti Salute, “ One of my offspring will show you to your room” again one of the cubs stepped forward.

--------

The patriarch watched as the Patriarch of Scolopendra greeted him. Too say the patriarch was excited to meet the Scolopendran patriarch was an understatement. He saluted his equal before speaking in Hero’s Tongue “welcome honorable speaker-Ritt, I am Rrowl C’mef and this is my aide Isabelle Vagren, I am glad you could come you honor me greatly, come, come, my cub will take you two your rooms, may The One Fanged God watch over you”

The patriarch’s oldest cub Zr’cer C’mef walked up to the group his black coat of fur neatly groomed for the occasion, promptly he saluted the Scolopendran patriarch before leading them off.

--------

“The honor is mine Ambassador Barian Ecalia, I am Rrowl C’mef and this is my aide Isabelle vagren” he motioned to the young woman beside him, she was no more than her early 20’s with long black hair and simple casual outfit, a pair of jeans and a soft wool sweater. Definitely not diplomatic apparel but then again she wasn’t a diplomat. “Of course I will see to extra living space should it be required, one of my offspring shall lead you to your living quarters”

Finlay noted the distinct lack of a greeting party. He frowned faintly and gestured for Traegan to fetch the lawn chairs. It was thus done with the characteristic speed and exactness of a First Lieutenant responding to the orders of a decidedly famous Brigadier General.

Ace unfolded the two lawn chairs and set them in place, waiting for Finlay to sit before he himself collapsed into the well-built (titanium-framed, actually) lawn chairs.

Made perfect sense. Two-gee bodies made for decidedly dense bones. Which meant that though Revenians averaged around six foot in height (give or take six inches...plus the usual genetic freaks...,) they were quite frankly, goddamn heavy. So Aluminum was a less useful material to them.

Ace yawned and popped open the cooler he had carried out with the lawn chairs. He reached in and grabbed two unlabelled bottles, tossing one to Finlay...

Finlay grasped the bottle-cap in his left hand and twisted...and the bottle cap came off. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a pull...and a rather masochistic smile came to his lips. Yup. Pure Northfell grain liquor. The good stuff. Hoo-ah!

The patriarch watched as the Patriarch of Scolopendra greeted him. Too say the patriarch was excited to meet the Scolopendran patriarch was an understatement. He saluted his equal before speaking in Hero’s Tongue “welcome honorable speaker-Ritt, I am Rrowl C’mef and this is my aide Isabelle Vagren, I am glad you could come you honor me greatly, come, come, my cub will take you two your rooms, may The One Fanged God watch over you”

The patriarch’s oldest cub Zr’cer C’mef walked up to the group his black coat of fur neatly groomed for the occasion, promptly he saluted the Scolopendran patriarch before leading them off.Speaker-Rrit returns the salutes, snappily drawing his fully-extended obsidian claws in front of his muzzle, smiling solemnly in a mixture of wink-of-ear and firmness of Heroic brow. "Your hospitality will be remembered, honorable Rrowl C'mef. May the One Fanged God grant you success in The Hunt." He bows shortly to Isabelle with a polite greeting, then turns to follow Zr'cer C'mef.

Nadjiba simply quietly follows the kzintosh's lead, although not being acknowledged obviously grates on her slightly from her scent. Outwardly, though, she seems as pleasant as ever, bowing shortly in passing to Isabelle.

"It is unexpected," Speaker broaches conversationally, following the black-furred cub, "but welcome to find Heroes amongst the stars. How fares your hunt?" He speaks not exactly as to an equal, according to inflection and word choice in the complex Hero's Tongue, but hardly condenscendingly either--an officer speaking to a senior enlisted man, perhaps.

Meanwhile, the Kriovalians were attempting to prevent a crisis. Well, the males were attempting to keep the female from going absolutely ballistic, and the lack of any greeting whatsoever from the host nation was making that task more difficult as the minutes ticked by. Finally, Sakira's patience, having crossed a succession of soft limits, hit the wall. Apparently, she could tolerate no more than forty-eight minutes of neglect.

"The hell I'm going to stand here and let these cat-things make an ass out of me! I'm going." With that, the Kriovalian woman stormed into the spacecraft.

Tevak shrugged. "Give her credit for lasting that long." He followed Sakira, leaving a bewildered and exhausted Koro standing behind. "We'll be in orbit. Just come on up when you're ready. Heh. Maybe you can even salvage this mess." Tevak shrugged again, and pressed a button, sealing the KRX Keldar. An instant later, the ship was lifting off.

"Yeah. This was a great idea," came the sarcastic voice of Koro. "Hellfire."

The remaining Kriovalian looked around. Seeing that the delegation from Revenia had also "escaped" detection by the welcoming committee, Koro walked over toward them. Many thoughts went through Koro's head, the first being that many people would tell him how blessed he was by the Gods for his talents, telekinesis and metabolics. The second was that if the Gods were blessing him so actively, then why was he in the middle of some Gods-foresaken star system at a party nobody seemed interested in welcoming him to? The third, and rapidly becoming most pressing, was that the Revenians looked like they could cut Koro in half, TK shields notwithstanding.

It really isn't my day, he thought, even as he reached the Revenians. "Um, hello. I'm Koro, from Krioval." Deciding to let the formality slide for a minute, he continued, "Nice party, huh? If only they'd let us in, ya know?"

The Patriarch turned he had nearly missed two of the delegate. He spoke clearly as he walked over to them “you have my deepest apologies, I am Rrowl C’mef, The patriarch of El Sentiel and this is my aide Isabelle Vagren” The young woman to his left politely bowed before he continued, “it is a honor to meet you and I again apologize for this inconvenience. Come, come I will show you respective groups to your living quarters “

The patriarch motioned slowly towards the hallway leading out of the landing pad where a transport waited for them. Zr’cer C’mef glanced back at the Patriarch “as are we, noble patriarch, we thought the One Fanged God left only us from the remains of our once glorious empire.” He hesitated for a moment his stance visibly changing to that of a more reserved one, ‘I … have not had a chance to prove myself to my patriarch or to my brothers”

He quickly changed the subject when he realized what he was saying “Noble patriarch, the human beside you, Nadjiba Abd-Al-Haqq is a female correct? My grasp of human genders is not very good”

(OOC: really sorry I forgot you guys, RL likes to torture me at times.)

R'thala's downy fur rippled as she tensed, dipping her own head to one side and angling it. A faint sound halfway between growl and a word is followed by a quiet, almost purring, "Travor gr'row-el, Patriarch. - It would be my honour and gladness." The first sentence, obviously, is not English. The inflection is throaty and low, differing greatly from the English - which is spoken with a soft, lilting accent, complete with a faint lengthening of vowel sounds.

She allowed 'guider' programs to govern her body movements, listening to her own body, as it were. She did know that the way in which that worked was not too dissimilar from 'body language'; her emotional responses translated into subliminal movements here and there.

It was a little uncomfortable, as she was not conscious of the movements or their order - merely their happening. She felt an urge to try to suppress them, but in turn suppressed the urge. It was important to appear open, unreserved - so she hoped.

She cast her eye over the 'offspring' in a wide-angle manner - that is, it appeared she was merely looking at his face, but she was observing him in the 'entire'. Suddenly she felt very uncertain; she was here, alone (for various reasons), on a world with a culture very different to that she was used to. It was, to be fair, perfectly natural that she might be a little 'scared' - scared, that is, of making a horrendous error of some sort.

Dimly it occurred to her that the hosts would likely be suffering from the same sort of jitters.

That made her feel better.

After a brief moment of consideration, she asks her guide (bluntly and without preamble) as they walk: "Have you ever encountered the Tharash (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Iluvauromeni_Commonality_of_Everlasting_Light#Ethnicity_-_Tharash) before?"

R'thala, away from the dust and visible properly, turns out to be a tightly-coiled, thinly-furred being with dark yellow eyes set into a ruddy-brown-furred face. She has what is most definitely a snout - with a hint of sharp, incisor-like teeth visible here or there as she speaks. Her lips do not move much, being minimal as they are. Bare pads make nary a sound as she glides - all seven feet eight inches of her, and while stooped a little in posture - across the floor, rather than walking.

She is vaguely reminiscent of a tiger, on inspection. The markings are not visible beneath the very minimal 'clothes' - which turn out to only cover below the waist. There is nothing to see above the waist, regardless: just a heavily muscled chest. Whether there are nipples beneath the somewhat thicker hair there or not is probably irrelevant - only the softer timbre of her voice marks her as a female...

Presuming the females of the dominant species on this planet speak more softly.

Yet her loping stride carries a grace with it that would suggest femininity even to the most stupid Human - something like the swagger of a lioness.

Space Force One finally reached Epsilon Eridiana. Noticing the large congregation of diplomatic ships already gathering at the planet, it was quite obvious that the president was late. As usual. They had to go on, though- better late than stupid, after all.

The ship finally touched down, and Nova stepped outside, still wearing his space suit. There was no telling what could be in the atmosphere, what others could have adapted to that would have instantly killed him. He frantically looked around for someone to introduce himself to, someone he could ask for directions to the main part of the party.

At the Patriarch's statement, Finlay nodded absently and rose from his lawn chair, bottle firmly grasped in his right hand. Ace soon followed. Before Finlay wandered off after the Patriarch, he mumbled into his lapel mic.

"Keep in touch, standard defense protocols cleared, your discretion. Finlay clear."

That taken care of, Finlay wandered off after the Patriarch, followed closely by Ace, who had abandoned his bottle and was instead peering around intently at nothing in particular. Finlay, on the other hand, was actually engaging the time honored practice of acting.

That is, he was doing an incredibly wonderful job of pretending to hide being annoyed. He really wasn't annoyed...such things happened. He was hardly one for un-necessary protocol...but...ehh. Appearances.

Koro shrugged at the apology. "Don't worry, Patriarch. Things happen sometimes. But I don't think Sakira will be joining us. Proud and impatient," Koro tipped his head ever so slightly, "one of our defining, if not admirable, traits." If pride and impatience were Kriovalian traits, so too was a certain mercurial nature to personality. Koro, who had been mad to the point of cursing only twenty minutes earlier, was now upbeat and happy to the point of nearly bounding down the corridor with his hosts.

Ze’wol C’mef didn’t bother to look back at the delegate, his voice was raspy and his English was rather hard to understand “no, honored delegate I have no had the pleasure of meeting your kind before” the last statement could have been taken in several different ways.

He stopped in front of a bulky transport hovering several inches off the ground and faced his companion, for the first time actually looking at her, sizing her up as it were; there wasn’t much of a resemblance between the delegate and a Kzinti female, although the fact she was sentient did spark some interest.

The door hiss loudly as the door of the transport opened revealing a rather spacious compartment for the two, although it was more designed for a Kzinti frame in mind, it’s seats were large and soft and long enough for the massive beings to lay down on for the longer trips. After R'thala was seated the transport speed off along the countryside, the twin suns starting to their downward dance in the sky.

About 30 minutes into the trip Ze’wol C’mef shifted his body staring intently out one of the windows his body pumping out excitement scent into the compartment, a massive beast that resembled a Sol Woolly mammoth and a lizard combined galloped away from 3 orange blobs of fur that dashed on all fours through the tall grass after it. It was quite apparent that it was injured and fleeing for its life. It did not take long for the three-kzinti hero’s to catch up with their prey, several precision strikes at the great beasts throat to finish the creature off, His ears were flat against his skull and his naked pink tail was straight in excitement as he watched the three hero’s fade off into the distance as they devoured their kill, someday Ze’wol C’mef would be a great warrior he promised to himself.

Zr’cer C’mef glanced back at the Patriarch “as are we, noble patriarch, we thought the One Fanged God left only us from the remains of our once glorious empire.” He hesitated for a moment his stance visibly changing to that of a more reserved one, ‘I … have not had a chance to prove myself to my patriarch or to my brothers”

He quickly changed the subject when he realized what he was saying “Noble patriarch, the human beside you, Nadjiba Abd-Al-Haqq is a female correct? My grasp of human genders is not very good”Speaker nods, continuing the small-talk in the Hero's Tongue. She would not be happy if she heard this. "Indeed, she is, and rather proud to be so. As for your chance... it will come, in time. Rise to the challenges of life and you will turn out as a fine Hero indeed."

The patriarch stopped infront of his personal transport, he entered the code unlocking the door with a loud hiss as the door disappeared into the wall. He stepped to the side allowing his aide Isabelle to enter and sit down before he stepped inside before the delegates, his over protective nature of Isabelle getting the better of him.

as soon as the delegates were inside, the transport speed off towards the patriarch's estate. A knock from the cockpit got the patriarch's attention "if you would excuse me, it seems I have some business to attend to." he stood nodded silently to Isabelle before leaving the room, the privacy wall closing behind him.

the hiss and spat of hero's tongue could faintly be heard even through the privacy wall, it was quite easy to tell he was not impressed, although it sounded like gibberish to the delegates, everytime Isabelle wince it was easy to tell, the massive kzinti was using one of the many colour insults and curses that dotted Hero's Tongue.

Isabelle quickly spoke up trying to draw away attention from the discussion going on behind the privacy wall. She nervously tucked a stray raven black strand of hair behind her ear "so honored delegates what are your home lands like?"

------


Zr’cer C’mef looked back at the Scolopendran Patriarch curiously "could you tell me of your deeds honored patriarch?" as the transport speed away from the docking station.

"and what of your empire? I'm sure it is glorious and vast" he stopped himself quickly before he could continue asking questions, it was a rude host that asked to many questions, especially of one's own glory.

Ace smiled at Isabella.

"Oh...Revenia is a nice enough place. But we have our problems. There are far too many people with silver hair. The rest are mostly brunette or red-heads. It has been a -long- time since I've somebody with real black hair..."

He grinned quirkily...

"Otherwise, Northfell is either cold or hot, depending on where you are. 'n the Gravity'd double your weight rather nicely. The Ascended liked their worlds rough, figure'd it'd pay off in the end. I think it did, seeing as we went from steel-age to space-faring power in a hundred years."

Zr’cer C’mef looked back at the Scolopendran Patriarch curiously "could you tell me of your deeds honored patriarch?" as the transport speed away from the docking station.

"and what of your empire? I'm sure it is glorious and vast" he stopped himself quickly before he could continue asking questions, it was a rude host that asked to many questions, especially of one's own glory.Speaker stifles a chuckle, resorting instead to winking his ears in a kzinti smile. No offense is taken--even if rude, it is flattering. "That would indeed be a long story. In short, I served my nation and my people well for many years, even so far as to help them rebuild our culture after our old ways were lost to us. My predecessor, you see, was killed in battle and there was no line of succession. We went for many years without a Patriarch. I am the first since." Humility is not a virtue to the kzin--the true virtue lies in boasting of what one can back up. Justifiable pride is the true measure of a Hero.

"As for our empire..." He looks down at Nadjiba, who appears quiet, content, and peaceful. The kzintosh knows, however, that inside she is probably getting more and more annoyed at being left out of the conversation 'while the men talk.' "The Federated Segments grow, and we gain friends. Kzin and human work together, and we are well-respected. If we speak more of it, it would only be fair that my Advisor add to the conversation. She may not look it, given her height," he says with a humorous slyness, "but she is truly a respectable one."

Koro sat silently, listening to the delegate from Revenia expound on the virtues of double-gravity worlds.

Otherwise, Northfell is either cold or hot, depending on where you are. 'n the Gravity'd double your weight rather nicely. The Ascended liked their worlds rough, figure'd it'd pay off in the end. I think it did, seeing as we went from steel-age to space-faring power in a hundred years.

He couldn't help but laugh softly at the conclusion of Ace's introduction. "That is quite...interesting," he attempted. Koro just hoped that he hadn't made a gigantic diplomatic error. Then again, he had been trained for combat, not diplomacy, but this was hardly the time or place for it.

"Krioval's pretty nice. We're mostly an island chain, ya know. No room to build out, so we build up. You should see Torokara some time! So many people in such a small space!" The young man was clearly excited to describe how far Krioval had come in such a short time. "I've never seen anywhere quite like it, but I guess that's how home is."

The Doctor had kept quiet and to herself for the few minutes she had spent in the Kzinti Nation as far. She didn't really have much to say, yet, as she was too keen on observing the other Delegates. The spitting of the foreign tounge, while incoherent, needn't be translated to profess its brash tongue. After a particularly nasty vocalization, she quirked a brow and eyed the wincing Isabelle.

The Doctor listened with half interest to the other Delegates, but felt as to interject herself into the conversation. To be polite, and whatnot. And with her mind set, she went out of her way to follow through.

"Crowded, eh?" Softly spoken, in response to the Krioval Delegate, "Somewhat the opposite in Fodmodmadtol. We're spread thin over Epsilonia... Named after this system, of couse." Curiousity piqued her still, to go on. "So have any of you heard of the Epsilon Eridani system prior to this? Aside from that, visited?"