NationStates Jolt Archive

Elenya gazed contently at the clear blue sky as she relaxed against an old apple tree, her gaze turn down to a deer that was feeding on the leaves of a tree only centimeters from where she sat. Slowly the High Priestess’s hand reached out and gently caressed the timid creature.

The deer’s body tensed under Elenya’s hand as the faint sound of armor clad footsteps, the deer stared forward anticipating an attack by a predator, it’s ears swiveling madly. The footsteps continued to grow louder and soon the figure of a tall elven woman clothed in Ceremonial armor came into view. The deer galloped away quickly as the woman came into arms reach of it, disappearing back into the forest from where it came.

Elenya stood up and plucked a large ripe apple from the tree, taking a small bite out of it she smiled savoring the taste. The armor-clad woman gave a small formal bow before speaking “High Priestess, it’s my duty to look after you and when you just run off without a word to me or any of the others, it makes my task more difficult than it needs to be.”

Elenya took another bite of her apple as she listened indifferently, it wasn’t the first time she had gotten the talk and would most certainly not be the last time either, “Tidyl, I’ve told you many times to call me Elenya, and besides you seem well capable of finding me” she offered Tidyl the apple, who accepted and took a small bite.

“High Priestess, we should return to the temple, today the initiates are taking the test and the festival starts in a week, oh and Lyn’Priestess Rylel would like to talk to you later.”

~ discontinuity ~

The Garden of the grand temple of Odessa was a buzz with excitement as several of the temple’s inhabitants prepared for the quickly approaching festival of the moon, perhaps one of the largest and most public festivals in all of the country. Inside the temple there was a small grouping of priestesses, well soon to be priestesses, before them stood proudly the Statue of Odessa, her hair billowing in the wind and a piece of fine silk draped around her nude figure.

“Linsir Priestess Alassë, please step forward.” Lyn Priestess Rylel glanced back and forth from the clipboard in her hand and the young elven girl, her aged face betrayed no emotion, although she liked the girl the final test would prove if she was capable of joining the Priestesses of Odessa. “if you prove yourself capable of contacting the goddess Odessa you will be accepted fully into the priestess hood”

Slowly the young elven girl stepped forward and knelt on a stone block with intricate carvings and symbols before the statue. Closing her eyes she took slow and deep breaths, as gentle humming coming from nowhere in particular grew in volume in each passing moment.

Only moments passed, but to Alassë it seemed like an eternity, then the humming began to fade and the markings on the stone block blinked into nothingness. Alassë gasped, it felt as though all the air was sucked out of her lungs, her body went numb and rigid, and her skin became clammy as euphoria washed over her body and gripped her tightly, after a minute or two she regained her composure and got off the prayer stone.

Lyn Priestess Rylel strode forward smiling as the group of Linsir Priestesses giggled to themselves “initiates, I’d like you to welcome Priestess Alassë, Priestess Alassë you may return to your room or do as you please until dinner.”

Alassë quickly made her way towards the inner halls of the temple, her face pink with embarrassment. A woman caught her eye as she continued to walk, she wore high level Priestess outfit and had dark green hair and eyes, she seemed so familiar to Alassë although she couldn’t put her finger on where.

Had Alassë been paying attention as she walked she would of noticed she was on a collision course with High priestess Elenya. A loud “oomph!” reverberated throughout the old stonewalls of the temple as Alassë stumbled nearly falling. “High priestess! I’m sorry very sorry I wasn’t paying attention and I should have and I-I…” Alassë said apologetically faster than one would think possible, Elenya grinned as she gently placed a finger on the young priestess’s lips silencing her.

“Now, now, child no harm done” Elenya’s gazed turned from the young Priestess to Lyn Priestess Rylel and the group of initiates then back to her, she noticed the young woman’s skin was clammy and bright red “congratulations on passing the test, contacting the goddess Odessa can be … interesting for some, I hope to see you about Priestess”

Alassë blinked and glanced down to her initiates clothing today was the last day she would ever have to wear them, quickly she snapped back to attention as the High Priestess began talking about the test and Odessa, turning a darker pink in embarrassment. “Thank you High priestess and I do not believe interesting quite describes it...”

Elenya watched as Alassë disappeared deeper into the temple before she continued onward with her guardian Tidyl, there were many things left to do before the festival began.


Dear Readers.

I wish to invite you to the ni’lir mon luna, (festival of the moon ) it will be a week long event, featuring song, dance, and many fine foods. Housing and transportation is available on request. The festival of the moon takes place in one weeks time, Should you have any questions of extra needs please feel free to reply to this message.

High Priestes Elenya Danilahn

To: Her Eminence the High Priestess Elenya Danilahn of Turnomess vor Odessa
From: The Office of Mephet’ran, Elenaran of the Necrontyr Empire

The Elenaran and his wife, the Elentári of Menelmacar are most pleased to be invited to attend the festival, and they wish to let it be known that they shall attend, and time permitting, attend for the duration. If matters make this impossible, they shall also bring a small delegation of friends with them in order to take their place, if they should be called away on some urgent and unavoidable business of state.

There are no particular needs of the Elenaran of Elentári, though their compatriots may include necrontyr, in which case it is desired, if not required that any personal rooms made available for such persons should be provided with heating systems somewhat above the normal even for tropical areas.

The Royal couple wishes to let it be known that they are delighted to accept this rare opportunity to experience a foreign culture of which they have no prior knowledge, and that they hope to learn much and establish an understanding that may be treasured far in the future.

The delegation should arrive aboard the Imperial Necrontyr Ship Arnstoan Rhien shortly before the indicated time, and the vessel will, assuming you have no complaints, remain in the nearest appropriate geo-stationary orbit for the duration.

Elash Mîraglariel
By the Hand of Elash Mîraglariel, Adjutant of the Elenaran

Elenya tapped her finger on her desk as she read over the reports from different cities, nothing of any particular interest or importance; she idly wondered why she was even bothering to read them. Leaning back in her chair she groaned quiet staring at the wall in front of her, it wasn’t just any wall, to anyone passing a casual glace at it, it would appear to be a thick healthy green forest with the sun setting over a cluster of mountains. In fact it was, several meters above her head where a camera recorded the sun setting in real-time and displaying along almost all of the underground panels, the elves would be able to cope living underground without the image feeds and other devices that tricked their senses into thinking they were still above ground.

Despite the primitive looking temples, Tùrnomëss' vór' Odessa was an advanced nation with ships capable of taking them out into the vast expanse of space, however rare those travels are.

She slowly shifted in her chair settling back down for more reading, several reports and other notices, her eyes felt like they were about to explode from reading dull needlessly detailed reports about this and that. Finally she came across the reply from The Ctan, a ripple of excitement ran up and down her body as she read the message carefully.


Dear Elenaran of the Necrontyr Empire

Preparations for you and your compatriots has been made for your arrival, I look forward to meeting you and your wife and hope you enjoy your stay. I am willing to allow your ship to stay in a geo-stationary above our land on one condition, two of my ships must escort it for the duration of it’s stay.

High Priestess Elenya Danilahn

*To the Temples guards surprise a raven appears, as if from thin air, directly in front of them. It ruffles it's blue black feathers, shakes it's head and fixing it's yellow eyes stare upon one of them, waddles forward dropping a rolled parchment from it's beak.
The parchment unrolls like a carpet in front of it.*

For the attention of High Priestess Elenya Danilahn of Turnomess vor Odessa.

Most venerable High Priestess,

It is a long long time since the Valkyrja have joined others in ancient rites and customs of their people outside of our region.
If I may, I would like to send one of my sister Valkyrja to join with you on this most auspicious occasion.

Brusca of the Valkyrja

To Her Dear High Priestess Elenya Danilahn of Turnomess vor Odessa

We, the Greater East Asia Republic of Noir, are most pleased to be included in the Festival of the Moon presented by her Highness. Lord Maestro Toshiro Hamilton-Shiryuu will attend the week long event with his wife and two daughters.

The Maestro does not require housing, only a dock for his personal mobile fortress, the Blues Driver, as he and his family will reside on it while on your home. Please do not be alarmed by the fortress, we assure you that it will be unequipped of its ammunition, save for personal use weapons on board, for the duration of its stay. It will however, be escorted by two Class-1 battleships which will not return until the end of the festival or until requested to.

Transportation and will not be necessary, however, the Maestro requests for someone to act as a guide to your home planet. The guide should also be able to explain any cultural rules on conduct and etiquette and any other important information or about your planet. The guide will be paid in full for his or her services, of course and will be provided shelter onboard the Maestro's fortress if needed.

The Maestro wishes for me to tell you that he has never experienced the culture of your world before and is delighted with this opportunity of knowledge and communication presented to him. He wishes to create new and lasting friendships during the week long event. He hopes this will be a wonderful exchange of culture.

In closing, the Maestro looks forward to this event. Please accept this porcelain doll as a token of his gratitude.


~~~|| The Lord Maestro Toshiro Hamilton-Shiryuu ||~~~

**Seal used by his secretary with direct authority from the Maestro, Grape Mishima.**

Elennor Walked along the temple walls lazily, she couldn’t stop thinking about the festival, which was quickly approaching, 4 days to be exact. Glancing around the temple yards she saw the three other guards manning their posts along the walls, they were more of a formal position in the temple than a actual guard duty these days, occasionally they would be called on to do tasks for the High Priestess.

Her pointed elven ears perked up at the sudden sound of flapping wings behind her, she quickly turned around staring at the bird as it landed on the wall dropping the parchment from it’s mouth. Picking up the message she glanced over it quickly before jogging away from her post towards the inner temple, she stopped and turning to the raven and took out her ration and broke off a small piece and tossed it in front of the bird.

“High Priestess!” Elennor said inbetween deep breaths; running in formal armor was tiring to say the least, “A message from The Valkyrja.”

“Thank you Elennor, I appreciate you bringing it down personally.” Elenya said politely as she took the parchment from Elennor reading its contents silently. “That makes three confirmed nations attending the festival.”

“Three? I had only heard of this one and the one from the Ctan.”

“Another arrived today from The Republic of Noir, Elennor would you be interested in being a guide for one of our guests for the duration of the festival?” Elenya said looking up from the penchant at Elennor awaiting a answer.

“I would be honored High Priestess…” Elennor made a quick bow before walking out of the High Priestess’s chambers back to her post, the sound of her armor echoed softly off the walls of the temple with each step.


Dear, Lord Maestro Toshiro Hamilton-Shiryuu of the Greater East Asia Republic of Noir.

I would like the thank you for attending this event; a guide will be assigned to you and your family upon your arrival. Your mobile fortress will be given clearence upon your arrival aswell, two ship be assigned to escort it all times for your safety.”

Sincerely
High Priestess Elenya Danilahn

High Priestess,
It is with great joy that we receive your missive regarding the upcoming festival. It has always been and shall always continue to be our firm policy to embrace as much contact, cultural and diplomatic, with our neighbors as we possibly might. Unfortunately, we shall not be able to attend the affair in person, though it is our understanding that many great crowned heads are doing so. It is our honor to designate one of our most trusted vassels, His Lordship, the Baron Buchanan, to attend in our name. His Lordship shall require no special arrangements.
Respectfully,
Owain ap Cunedda
High King of the Resurgent Dream et. al.

Prince Edmond Elkenwood glanced restlessly at the heavy grey autumn skies. The first raindrops had just fallen and within minutes the storm would be upon Elkenwood Manor.
Unlike the rest of the royal family Edmond just couldn’t bring himself to like this kind of weather, and his brother Herbert’s constant musing about the beauty of nature in her full power did nothing to improve his condition.
At times like this he would do anything to be just about anywhere else.
He didn’t hear the careful stirring of slippers until it was right behind him; he turned and noted without much interest the skinny figure of his father, Nicholas Elkenwood, before him.
“Beautiful weather today isn’t it” Prince Nicholas said with an ambiguous smile “The farmers will be delighted”
“I suppose” Edmond sighed.
“Of course, it is less of a joy for you… You’d rather be somewhere interesting with some interesting people, my boy…” Nicholas bit his lower lip thoughtfully and turned away to inspect the branch-like ornaments framing the door he had entered.
“What exactly—“
Prince Nicholas Elkenwood turned once more towards his youngest son, this time his smile was even wider.


High Priestess Danilahn!
It is with great pleasure that I read about this lunar celebration of yours, and although the present state of affairs prevents me from being there personally, I have decided, with your permission, to send my son Prince Edmond to participate in the event.
The company will, as far as I can tell, consist of ten to fifteen persons; friends, bodyguards and servants, and although there is no need to worry about transportations, I would greatly appreciate it if suitable sleeping quarters could be arranged.
Also, my beloved son is still young and perhaps a little too confident in certain matters, so it would perhaps be best if you could provide us with a briefing about your nation and its customs, in order to prevent any embarrassment on my part.
Respectfully signed
Prince Nicholas Elkenwood of House Aldor, ruler of the Forest Kingdom of Elkwood

*The raven enters the room through the open window, it lands with a thud onto Brusca's desk.
Scattering her papers with the draft from it's wings, it ruffles it,s gleaming blue-black feathers back into place and tilting it's head looks defiently at her as she deftly catches some of the errant papers.
Brusca glares at the bird.*

"You do that on purpose don't you? I'll have your tail feathers for a hat if you continue."

*Unmoved the raven snaps it's sharp beak at her and blinks*

"Oh I'm not in the mood today, what news?"

*The raven waddles towards her and faces her eye to eye*

"Elves? All of them? Well, thats good......Female guards? Hmmmmmm......."

*Brusca leans back smiling, her hand idly drumming on her desk as she thinks*

"It's been a long time since we have mixed with Elfen kind, now who should I send.........or perhaps I will just attend myself?"

*She sighs*

"No I can't I have Emperor Josef here and Queen Alexandria, who I have sorley neglected, there is too much to deal with at home......I'll send Trine, yes she will be best fitted for this."

*She sits back and smiles at the Raven*

"Yes, you can accompany her, now off you go and eat, I have papers to sort out......again....."

Office/Quarters of Field Administrator Traegan Stark, Revenian Diplomatic Service Block, NexCon, Nexus, ESSR

The comm beeped. And beeped. And beeped again. Then the program still referred to as an "answering machine" cut in.

"You have reached the Office and Home of Traegan Stark. He is unable to come to the comm right now. That means that he's either doing something, being lazy, or out roaming the galaxy doing his job. Either way, you can leave a message after the beep and he'll maybe get back to you."

The beep sounded, and the recording started...long enough to record a short statement from the person on the other hand, which in this case was "Administrative Override, Relaren, Sero, High Chancellor."

Then the comm flicked live of its own accord, and a high-pitched, very loud three-note signal was blasted throughout the office and apartment of Field Administrator Traegan Stark. Quite sufficient to cut through the shower's soft blare and reach the ears of that self-same Field Administrator.
---

He swore. Loudly and fluently.

Candy looked up at him, fluttering her eyelashes and gazing at him with those had-to-be-augmented blue eyes.

"What's wrong, Acey?"

Traegan Stark, Ace to everybody but his mother and a few others, shook his head like a punch-drunk fighter, then disengaged himself from Candy's embrace and turned off the shower.

"Sorry, Babe...but duty calls."

He didn't explain further, and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist before darting towards the office and skidding to a stop before the comm.

The large vis-screen on the wall showed, quite clearly, the perfectly composed face of Sero Relaren, High Chancellor of the Exalted Star Supremacy of Revenia, leader of the Daggerstar Party, and Adminstrator-in-Chief of the Revenian Diplomatic Service.

Traegan began to compose some form of greeting, but Sero cut him off.

"Traegan...you have an assignment. The reason it's me telling you this and not Theodora is that this is quite beyond your paygrade...but. But you've done first contact work before...and you're also as close to an RRT Administrator as we can get without actually using an RRT Admin. So. You know the procedure."

Then Relaren disconnected. Ace, who had managed to remain stoic throughout the whole transmission, managed to walk to the chair behind his desk before he collapsed fully into it.

Whatever this assignment was, it had been enough to somehow worry Sero Relaren...because Revenia's foremost diplomat did not usually talk like that. Maybe it was stress...whatever.

He tapped a button on the comm, and about two minutes later Lyssa, his aide, let herself in. She was dressed, as always, in an immaculate and utterly proper dark-gray skirt-suit thingy. Ace's skill was in removing women's clothing...not identifying them.

She began tutting immediately upon first sight of her charge, and didn't stop until she had him dressed in full whites, the woman in his bathroom ejected from the RDS block, the transport lined up, preparations made, so on, so forth...

Thusly, one hour later, Field Administrator Traegan "Ace" Stark was onboard an RDS Cutter, waiting only for confirmation before making starfall.
---

RevNet Transmission Begins
Authentification: RDS Red Seven Alpha
-Header-
FROM: Administrator Aedys Winton, RDS Office of Communications
TO: High Priestess Elenya Danilahn or Appropriate Representive Thereof
SUBJ: Re: Festival of the Moon
~Message Begins~
NOTIFICATION: It would suit our will to have an RDS Administrator attend this festival of yours. It would suit us mightily to have confirmation of this request...

Preferably in the Affirmative.
~Message Ends~
Transmission Clear

Well... Bump. essentially.

Only two days remained before the start of the festival and the air was thick with excitement, messages sent to several of the representatives of the invited nations. The Temple was cover with decorations; the garden was filled with floating orbs of soft light seemingly defying the gentle breeze, even the underground areas of the temples were decorated.

Elenya and Tidyl slowly walked through the halls double checking this and that, making sure everything was picture perfect for the festival. Tidyl was the first to break the silence, it was neither a comfortable or uncomfortable, it was just well silent.

“High Priestess, the festival is quickly approaching and our invited guests have yet to turn up, some of the priestesses and guards as starting to worry.” Tidyl said carefully with a diplomats grace as they continued to walk down the main hall of the temple.

“Do not worry Tidyl they will come, and I wonder if you not so modest reasons…” Elenya mused as Tidyl blushed.

(OOC: just a quick post, sorry I haven’t had a chance to write more, just trying to move the thread along.)

Prince Edmond Elkenwood studied his reflection in the mirror critically, frowned slightly and selected another cape before nodding with satisfaction.
He went along the darkish corridor, illuminated only by the early morning light coming trough the high windows. Presently he ran into Ingralf.
“Oh. Greetings. It is indeed a great pleasure to once again receive your visit…”
“Hi, there kiddo!” Ingralf said, cutting through Edmonds monologue as dispassionately as a doctor cuts through body tissue. With his broad brimmed hat, long beard and shabby grey clothes, he looked a lot like the god Odin.
“So in what business have you come here again, good sir?” Edmond asked, trying not to look discouraged.
“None, really” Ingralf said “I’ve come to join you on your little holiday trip. Nicky didn’t tell?”
Ingralf’s habit of referring to Edmond’s father, the ruling monarch of a not too unimportant nation, as ‘Nick’, was perhaps excused by the fact that very few men knew him better. That and that Prince Nicholas always spoke of Ingralf, even in his company, as ‘that old tramp’.
“No, he must have forgotten to mention it” Edmond said.
“Quite so. I’ll be bringing Tom, my squirrel with me.”
At this a pair of hazel brown eyes, pointed ears, a twitching nose and lots and lots of fur emerged from behind Ingralf’s shoulder ”And Sir Ellsworth is coming too, of course. Hey, come meet the little fellow, Ell!”
The towering figure of Sir Ellsworth appeared behind Ingralf. No one seemed to be sure who, or indeed of what species, he really was. The great glowing eyes, emerald green scales and the long slithering tail would have suggested dragon, but the hat, thick brown overcoat and the almost circular spectacles suggested otherwise. The fact that Sir Ellsworth was one of the friendliest and most congenial persons Edmond knew, somehow only made his presence more unsettling.
“Oh, here you are, my young friend, it is so good to see you!” Sir Ellsworth said, shaking Edmond’s hand with apparent care not to break it. “So, who are the other members of our little excursion party?”
“Just Sir Flynn and Lady Annabelle” Edmond began. Sir Flynn was perhaps the prince’s best friend. With his long red hair worn in a pony tail and a huge gold ring in one of his ears, he looked almost like a pirate, something which his manners did nothing to refute. Lady Annabelle was, or so legend had it, the most beautiful woman to be born in Elkwood for more than a century. Rumours had for long been suggesting that something was going on between her and Prince Edmond, but the truth was that they both were to self centred to enjoy each other as anything more than accessories.
“Other than that, there’ll just be a pair of guards, a few servants and some general hangers-on.” the prince concluded.
Ingralf smiled. “Those people seems to stick to you nobles like flies to s—“
“To sugar” Sir Ellsworth finished the sentence. “Just a minor detail, my boy, how exactly are we going to get there?”
“Oh, I don’t know” Edmond said “By train I expect, at least initially. It looks like it’ll be a long journey.”

Trine carefully chose a small quiet copse a few miles away from the Temple and other civilisation in which to arrive. It was not the Valkyrja way to broadcast how they got in and out of places.

First, a raven burst into the sky almost with a 'pop' as the air around it was missplaced.
Trine and her huge war horse appeared close behind landing as easily as though they had just jumped a small garden fence.
Without breaking step the handsome grey followed the raven making it's way out onto the road and towards the Temple.

As the Temple grounds come into sight, Trine pulls her horse to a halt.

She pulls off her travelling cloak and stowes it into a saddlebag, then checks her ornate bronze armour to ensure it is as it should be.
The raven circles lazily over head taking advantage of the warm afternoon thermals as trine dons her helm and finally unstraps her shield and lance from the horses side.
Settling the shield comfortably onto her left arm and resting the lance in the cup by her right stirrup, she raises herself up to her full hight, then gently kicks her horse back into a lazy walk.

The raven swoops down towards her flying past as if to check that she is correctly attired, then flapping it's mighty wings to gain momentum leads their way towards the Temple once more.

The ship that arrived was quite simply, massive. Kilometres of shining metal that seemed to flow and move in places, or pulse with almost visible energy in others, some vanes and pyramids crackling with azure lightning as the vessel slowed. In overall form the ship was based around a large crescent surmounted with a stepped pyramid. From the back section, two long and deceptively fragile seeming struts extended, with various engines and systems between them as well as a pair of rudders containing hyper-speed adjusters that allowed this newer design to be more precise in its course adjustments at greater speeds than its predecessors.

It moved into geo-stationary orbit as suggested, paying no mind to the local ships, which it was justifiably confident of being able to easily overcome. The landing vessel that left from the ship’s landing bays however, was visually very different. A simple enough shuttle of curving lines and graceful symmetry, bedecked in crimson and gold leaf on its hull, which cut through the air without seeming to touch it or be heated by friction at all.

The vessel touched down softly, not so much landing as alighting for a moment, too flighty and delicate to rest its mass on anything but the decks of its parent vessel. From a door in its white-and crimson hull, several inhabitants confidently stepped out, shining black body armour that flexed with the movements of the wearer as a second skin over white ceramic-seeming material that rippled and reflected the light as fish scales might when they moved. Draped loosely over their shoulders, light grey cloaks hung, held back behind sword handles and holstered pistols and other weapons.

These guards moved in a way that was beyond simple grace, and into the realm of the sublime. They did not twitch without purpose. Even the occasional flourish of the hand as they moved was exquisitely perfect, complementing their comrades in dance-like motion. They took up places on either side of the door, looking around themselves, though they wore helmets that were fully sealed, these were crafted with transparent faceplates, rather than ‘dehumanising’ helmets. The faces within were pictures of tranquil repose as the glanced around them.

The Elenaran and Elentári were next out of the shuttle, both were extraordinarily beautiful, describing Mephet’ran first, one could say he was the plainer of the two. Standing at equal height with his wife of six foot seven, he was tall, and though he seemed to fill out his clothes perfectly, he was not broad, but even more so than the presumably ceremonial guards he seemed to convey a sense of control and discipline. He was dressed in white robes that seemed to dazzlingly reflect the light, or perhaps shine with some inner light of their own, trimmed with luminous silver threats. Over this as an overcoat of sorts, he wore a grey mantle that cloaked the light from the lower garments. Its edges were of a bright crimson and brocade of cloth of gold that bore the curling and flexing design of the high necrontyr script, which seemed to change over time, shifting from one position to another whenever it felt none were looking, so that by looking away and then back the text of this thin border would have changed completely.

This pattern was mirrored in Sirithil’s garb, except that there, instead of necrontyr, golden fabric spelt out inscriptions at the hem of a long and sheer red robe, with jade green bands where it terminated. Where this robe parted, at the curve of her bosom, it flew out to the very edges of her shoulders, not hanging but instead being stitched to some fabric of unsullied alabaster that duplicated the effects of her husband’s robes, shining radiantly upwards and illuminating the thousands of diamonds and rubies of a fantastically worked necklace that decorated the flawless skin of her chest. A golden-yellow diamond eagle clasped in claws of sparkling clear jewels a magnificent ruby the like of which could never come into being naturally. But nor was this spectacular jewel a construction of technology, instead it was made as a courtship gift by her husband, with shaped lattices of crystal forming dozens of parts that would never conceivably fit together without passing through one another.

This ruby beauty was duplicated in the Lady’s naturally carmine eyes, which danced inwardly with the reflected fire of incomparably glorious beauties unseen by mankind from millennia past. And it was reflected on the circlet borne on her brow, encompassed by flowing golden-blonde hair which plummeted down her back loosely, displayed proudly as it cascaded across shoulder blade, back and buttock, universally of one colour, aging and dulling finding no purchase on even a hair of her head. This crown was of a metal without compare, damasked mithril of Kazad-dûm spun at once into a single coherent band and a thousand strands that arched and flared skywards, seeming too fragile to possibly withstand use as practical headwear, but enduring nonetheless. At its centre, the crown bore another eight-pointed star of ruby, with its lowest peak spearing outwards to become the slightly threatening but timeless and regal insignia of the Menelmacari.

This was a crown duplicated almost exactly on the brow of Mephet’ran, except that in place of the ruby he wore sculpted ammonite that created a replica in shimmering green-blue of the solar-symbol of the necrontyr.

Both monarchs wore swords, both mostly symbolic, in the case of the former because of the lack of need for such a weapon, in the case of the latter because she carried a more modern but less photogenic weapon upon her person. Mephet’ran’s sword was a simple enough affair, made of the same living metal as the ship above or indeed, his own avatar, a slightly curved blade, in keeping with Sirithil’s own, with lapis-lazuli, aquamarines and sapphires decorating the hilt. The other sword, Dant'harthad, was much more elaborate, and vastly more famous however, rarely leaving as it did, Sirithil’s side.

Both stepped down and awaited their reception.

(OOC: just a quick post, full one coming soon)


FROM: High Priestess Elenya Danilahn
TO: Administrator Aedys Winton, RDS Office of Communications
SUBJ: Re: Re: Festival of the Moon

Message received, living quarters, transportation, and a guide will be available upon request. Hope you enjoy your stay.

High Priestess Elenya Danilahn

It had undeniably been a long journey. Too long, Prince Edmond thought, as he and the others ascended what felt like the hundredth hill that afternoon.

The sun was just about to set behind them, and the world was drenched in thick golden light, which together with the warmth and the oppressive silence beneath the high deciduous trees made the atmosphere almost suffocating.

Even Ingralf and Sir Ellsworth had fallen silent, and all that was heard were the cries and chirpings of strange, unseen birds. Their conversation, of which Sir Ellsworth had done about eighty percent of the talking, had been so full of unknown names and places that Edmond had lost interest in it long before it ended, but it had nevertheless left him with the impression that things somehow had been better at some undefined point in the past.

Once again Edmond was reminded about how little his fathers old friends, or indeed anything of his old life, seemed to have in common with the life he had chosen as the ruling monarch of Elkwood, shortly before Edmonds birth.

Behind him Sir Flynn and Lady Annabelle walked on in silence. It was a testimony to the unreality of the whole situation that Sir Flynn wasn’t trying to tell Lady Annabelle any of his jokes, and that Lady Annabelle wasn’t trying to fake dignified silence.

Farther down behind them, the servants were trying to steer the horse cart with their luggage along the narrow path. Tom, the squirrel, had fallen asleep on Ingralf’s shoulder; it made a surprising amount of noise for such a small creature, and in the tranquillity of the forest the sounds seemed almost blasphemous.

Finally they reached the crest of the hill. The air was cooler here, and the faint breeze felt refreshing. Before them opened a vast valley, in the distance they could see the high, graceful towers of the temple of Odessa, and behind it the great, pearl-coloured disc of the newly risen moon.

Elennor leaned again the temple wall watching the occasional animal run by the perimeter of the temple. She rubbed her eyes delicately as she stood up and yawned loudly her limbs outstretched. She didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, too excited to fall asleep and she also couldn’t stop thinking about her duty to guide a group of visiting of dignitaries.

She sighed hoping that she wouldn’t screw things up or even worse; the dignitaries would be boring stiffs. Something caught her eye, a raven just appeared out of nowhere followed by a by a woman on horseback.

Not a minute later several the gates into the temple opened and a small group of priestesses stepped out to welcome their guest. One of the priestess stepped forward pulling back her silk hood revealing her long dark green hair and matching eyes “honored guest I would like to welcome you to the Temple of Odessa, I hope you enjoy you stay during the festival”

Aside from being the only elf in the entire land with dark green hair and matching green eyes the priestess seemed be much more than what was shown, much, much more.

~// discontinuity \\~

Tidyl watched from the control tower of laven’durel space port, the only above surface spaceport left in the country. The room was cramped both with the vast amount of equipment in the room plus the workers who maintained and used the equipment, and the extra bodies of Tidyl, 3 guards, and 5 priestesses did little to improve their surroundings.

“Satellite A-3 has reported and confirmed the Ctan ship has entered and matched orbit. Sending Morning Sun and Archway to the stars rendezvous coordinates now.” One of the workers said instinctively as she tapped away on a dated physical keyboard. The large screen on the west wall flickered to life as it began displaying data flowing in from the two ships and nearby satellites.

“The Morning Sun reports a shuttle leaving the ship and beginning it’s descent.” The woman again chirped in as the screen switched over to a life feed from an orbiting satellite.

While to Tidyl and the other visitors this seemed like a normal descent to them, the control tower crew knew better, there was not descent burn, no fireball streaking through the sky. While the people of Turnomess vor Odessa were considerable advanced, space travel wasn’t as advance as other fields, they had never discovered gravity drives or similar engines so this was all quite new and fascinating to them.

Tidyl and the rest of the welcoming party quickly made their way down the several flights of stairs. When they finally reached the ground floor Tidyl had made quite a few recommendations for the improvement of this ancient spaceport she would have to give to High Priestess Elenya when she returned to the temple.

After the ship had settled down on the edge of the runway Tidyl stepped through the gate followed by the others, she watched carefully as the Elenaran and Elentári both striking, exited the ship, she paid particular attention to the Elenaran, men in Turnomess vor Odessa were few and far between, roughly 4 women for every man, as stated by last years census.

She signalled the others to wait as she gracefully made her way towards her guests, taking note of both their beauty, many thoughts ran through her mind as she walked most of them not of pure intention.

Tidyl stopped a meter from the two smiling welcomingly as though they pair were a old friend coming home. Her dark red armour gleamed in the sunlight as she stood the armour fitting her curves to perfection, her hair short black just reaching her chin in length.

“I am High Guard Tidyl Varyr and I welcome you to the Turnomess vor Odessa” She said softly as she slowly moved her self closer to the female and gently placed a kiss on her lips, her hand stroking her cheek as she broke the kiss and side stepped over to the male and repeated the welcoming including the kiss, when she spoke again with undertones of mischievousness. “I would be honoured to show you to your living quarters, the others would be honoured to carry your belongings, may you enjoy your stay..”

(OOC: sorry for such a late post, Elkwood I promise the next one will come much faster )

Elennor leaned again the temple wall watching the occasional animal run by the perimeter of the temple. She rubbed her eyes delicately as she stood up and yawned loudly her limbs outstretched. She didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, too excited to fall asleep and she also couldn’t stop thinking about her duty to guide a group of visiting of dignitaries.

She sighed hoping that she wouldn’t screw things up or even worse; the dignitaries would be boring stiffs. Something caught her eye, a raven just appeared out of nowhere followed by a by a woman on horseback.

Not a minute later several the gates into the temple opened and a small group of priestesses stepped out to welcome their guest. One of the priestess stepped forward pulling back her silk hood revealing her long dark green hair and matching eyes “honored guest I would like to welcome you to the Temple of Odessa, I hope you enjoy you stay during the festival”

Aside from being the only elf in the entire land with dark green hair and matching green eyes the priestess seemed be much more than what was shown, much, much more.



Trine dismounts with the agility of one who is used to wearing such restrictive armour and bows low.

"I am Trine of the Valkyrja, Brusca and my Sisters send you warm greetings.
The honour is mine, to recieve such a welcome and to be allowed to attend your Festival."

She stands straight and lifts her visor, her face lit with a genuine smile.

All C’tan are born of fire. The primal star fire of fusion plasma is what makes their bodies – their true, and usually unseen, bodies. The oldest of their race, such as Mephet’ran, are innumerable millions of years old, and remember their formation in the primeval creation of the universe, congealing fire, mass-energy so compressed it scourged what little space there was in its fury and outlandish particles that have not existed since. In their ‘physical’ forms, their kind have lived many hundreds of thousands of mortal lifetimes with powers almost beyond belief.

One such power that all C’tan acquire, to a greater or lesser degree according to their stature, proclivity and skill is called, in the ancient language of the Necrontyr, Artireah – mind speech. Very similar to the phenomena that most call telepathy and empathy, this talent was one of the things Mephet’ran, among all his peers, excelled at. It was different from the telepathy often practiced among other races because the C’tan practice of Artireah actually allowed for one to damage the mind of an organic being much more easily than one could commune.

It was therefore, a testament to Mephet’ran’s talent that he could and habitually did, effortlessly pick up the feelings and hidden desires or fears of others, even without conscious effort. As Tidyl strode across the open ground on the way to them, it was without cognisant desire that he took in her surface thoughts and erotic desires, in much the same way as the couple’s guards looked her over thoroughly, and even as Mephet’ran’s eyes examined her from toe to crown, taking in every curve and every last square centimetre of smooth skin.

It is pertinent to note that C’tan see in a very different way from humans and even elves. Though it is within their common abilities to choose to only see a certain range of the electromagnetic spectrum, such as the ‘visual light’ range, commonly they do not, instead perceiving everything from gamma radiation to ‘television’ frequency waves. It would perhaps be a dizzying experience to most, but it is how they have come to know the world that is so alien to their blast furnace like home. They are for that matter, at least in the case of the Messenger, a loose translation of Mephet’ran into English, capable of perceiving things through solid objects, the contents of a closed box, the doings in the next room, or the blood cells of a living person for example.

So to say that he examined every centimetre of Tidyl’s skin was in fact, no exaggeration.

One might wonder how such an ancient and powerful creature could find the desire to love the, in other ways, more magnificent and powerful, wife at his side, or find the propensity to return the fresh and newly hatched ardour of Tidyl Varyr. It would be a wise question, with a disconcerting answer. They didn’t.

Which would be to say, that the C’tan had not, for the vast majority of their tragically rapacious existence, cared for anything outside themselves. One could in abstraction in time and place from the wickedness they had inflicted, easily see how such beings could find inflicting suffering on others to simply be amusing. When you would live until the end of time and were, in your true form, larger than an entire planet, it was not so much a case of ‘dehumanising’ others as simply not deigning to ‘humanise’ yourself.

Sirithil meanwhile, free of such sight but possessed of other means of seeing the true nature of a person from casual inspection, met the amorous guard’s lips with her own soft and unadorned – she of course, required no makeup, her radiant and flawless complexion often giving the impression that she wore it, applied by some peerless master of the art – lips. She leaned down a little to join her mouth to the other woman’s, casually sliding an arm around the High Guard’s waist and pulling this intriguing greeter to press against her robes softly.

As Tidyl moved to Mephet’ran, under the iridescent eyed scrutiny of his wife, who, rather than being jealous or concerned, was simply enjoying herself, he took hold of her in much the same, forwards and aggressive (though far from harmful!) manner, spreading his fingers at the small of her back and pulling her to take a little step forwards to stand against him as he too leaned down to kiss her, being sure that, although the local custom would seem to suggest that she give the kiss, he initiated it a moment before she had the opportunity.

As Tidyl offered to show them to their rooms, the Elentári smiled, “That would be wonderful,” she said, smiling, and speaking the local language, not through study, though she like most of her kin, took great joy in learning and creating languages, but through by what was, in her own lofty measure, trivial sorcery. “Our baggage however, should be dispatched on one of the other shuttles,” she added, “Please, lead on.”

With Little formal contact between the host nation and the Council it was a while before Iyanna finnally decided to accept the invitation. In the end through, it was neccersary, the council had for too long been distant. Matters on Mars had pulled their attention towards matters of simple 'state' security. while Iyanna and the rest of the council did not view this as objectionable, or regretful, nor miss the simple pleasures of being a head of state, able to attend the many and various functions on Earth. It was understood that a Leader was expected to attend such functions, to not simply be a war leader.

It was for such a reason, and with the added bonus of being it seemed able to meet with the leadership of many members of the Veritas Alliance, that Iyanna decided she would attend. Still for her to attend she would need suitable escorts. After a few moments of consideration the choice was simple, two seers where close to the point where they would be considered suitable for the role of Ambassador. A guided social function such as this would allow Iyanna to oversee a practical lesson in diplomacy. (The High Farseer not being one to waste any oppertunity)

First came the simple formal RSVP.



To The High Priestes Elenya Danilahn.

The Council sends it's greetings to you on this day [Date Lost] We hear with much interest of your festival ni’lir mon luna. Indeed it is my hope as the High Farseer to attend. Of course matters being as they are it is with much regret that I must also bring Four staff members with me, should I be needed elsewhere.

High Farseer Iyanna
Heir of Telgorthrind.
Hei of Melien he who was a Council.

((OOC Note Yes the excuse for her Escort was OOCly shamelessly stolen from Mephet.))

Mernova sat atop the Elennor’s section wall idly watching the sun set. She sighed happily; Elennor had the best view of the sunsets. Something caught her eye, the figures on several people traveling on foot towards the temple. Mernova quickly made her way down the ramparts towards the guard station her armor clinking rhythmically with each step.

5 minutes later several figures made there way from the temple gates, one of those figures was the High priestess herself made their way slowly towards the group, Elenya in the lead. The High Priestess continued forward as the others stopped a few meters away their faces hidden by the stretching shadows of the dying sun, their slender and graceful bodies made it quite apparent they were all female.

“I am the High priestess Elenya Danilahn, and I welcome you to Turnomess vor Odessa” she gave a small bow her eyes never leaving her guests own eyes, most notable the lizard-man with a childlike curiosity. “if you would be so kind, I will show you to your living quarters and in the morning if you wish, your guide will show you about the temple.”


Dear High Farseer Iyanna

I am delighted to hear you and your peers will be attending the festival, living quarters and transportation will be readied for your arrival. Should you have any special needs I would be happy to change your living quarters to meet your satisfaction.

High Priestess Elenya Danilahn

Lord Buchanan did not arrive in a mighty spaceship or through some ancient magic. No. He was happy to be delivered to the shores of Turnomess vor Odessa aboard a more conventional sea going vessel.

The baron was a man in his late forties. He could be described as well-bred and well-groomed but not as handsome. His hair, mostly light brown, was beginning to show some signs of grey. His figure was muscular but not overly trim. He was adorned in a black silk tunic with a high collar and matching boots and breeches. His cloak was clasped over his heart with a golden medallion in the form of a gryffon.

On his arm was his wife, Lady Maeve. She was an attractive redhead several years younger than her husband. Her figure was slender and one could hardly tell from looking at her that she was a mother of three, although she was. She was dressed in an elegant but not overly complex gown of light blue.

The couple stepped down the ramp towards the locals with polite smiles, as their staff buzzed around in the background taking care of all kinds of technical details.

what kind of catfood do you serve? are there any dogs invited? do you have good napping spots? are there any flea markets around.

It all happened so fast Prince Edmond barely noticed.
Suddenly Sir Ellsworth had kneeled before the considerably smaller High Priestess, kissed her hand and addressed her in a few words, which Edmond, not understanding them, deduced to be in her native tongue.
Sir Flynn and Lady Annabelle bowed and curtsied respectively, and even Ingralf nodded politely, his gaze never deviating from that of the priestess.

Before Prince Edmond had the chance to greet his hostess in any way, Sir Ellsworth (having become the groups unofficial spokesperson) kindly accepted Elenya’s invitation, and agreed to a guided tour the following morning, and suddenly the small party was on it’s way to what would become their place of residence for the rest of their stay.

There was only one seaport in Turnomess Vor Odessa, a lengthy narrow channel just barely deep enough for a ship to pass through with some margin of safety. The forward observation posts had seen ship early on during it’s trek through the channel leaving the local temple and the small village ample time to prepare a welcoming party, The village known as begel was surrounded by a sheer wall of mountain with only two ways in or out, the first being picked up by helicopter that traveled back and forth every ten hours, not the most luxurious chariot for royalty.

The second was through the use of the teleportation stones; they were from a time long forgotten when magic was used only by a select few, only used when transporting people to places that they needed to be immediately.

The town’s lead priestess Saruriel was little over five hundred but she didn’t look a day past twenty-five, long golden locks and dark hazel eyes, her walk graceful as she strode through the part in the crowded towards their guests, her body radiated warmth and love.

“I would like to welcome you to Turnomess vor Odessa, I am Saruriel the lead priestess of this town, forgive me for asking but are you here to attended the festival?” she smiled motioning for them to follow her. “The festival is taking place at the Hall of Odessa where the High priestess resides, the nearest helicopter is due back in four hours or if you’d prefer I could teleport you and your wife to the temple tonight and have the belongings flown over.”

Buchanan looked at his wife for a moment before turning back to Saruriel. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lead Priestess. I am Lord Buchanan and this is my lady wife."

He nodded slightly at her words. "We will wait for the helicopter." Men with his luggage approached while the lord and lady walked towards the heliport, reflecting inwardly that their hosts could certainly have been more coordinated and better prepared. They had, after all, known for weeks that they would be arriving at this port.

Second Miltian Spaceport Terminal A – (Second Miltia)

“Lord Maestro, please walk this way,” said an aide, who motioned the way towards the shuttle that brought passengers to the docked spacecraft outside of the space colony. “Your wife is already onboard the Blues Driver.”

“I see,” snapped Toshiro as he walked briskly and stopped just outside the terminal door. Before him was the view hundreds of space craft docking days, inside of many were a plethora of large and small space craft. Many of these craft were shuttles that made connecting flights between the colony and even larger spacecraft outside the colony. Toshiro took a few seconds to take in the sight, his long dark leather cloak fluttered in the artificial wind generated by the space colony weather controller. It was six o’clock in the evening planet side, so the gigantic lights along the struts of the colony dome had started to light up as its geosynchronous position became less and less illuminated by the system’s sun. Directly in front of him was a detachment from his personal guard and the shuttle that would take him up to one of the many mobile fortresses that the Noir Space Fleet controlled.
Toshiro had a stern look plastered onto his face as he approached the two rows of guards that lined the pathway to the rectangular utilitarian like vehicle. Slowly he lifted his starched sleeve and held his hand to the rim of his hat to salute the men in front of him. In a split second both rows snapped to attention, heads held up high and guns gripped and shouldered. Toshiro dropped the salute and continued to walk up to the shuttle. Upon entering the shuttle, the large shuttle door shut behind him with a metallic clank and the whirring noises of the locking servos. Once completely separated from the outside, he let out a loud sigh and slumped into a nearby seat. A flight attendant walked up to the Lord Maestro and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “My Lord, your seat is this way,” she said kindly. Blinking in the bright light, he stood up and walked down the corridor into the seating area. The fluorescent light of the craft lit many of Toshiro’s features that were hidden by the setting sun outside.

The Lord Maestro was a young man in his late mid-twenties, but his black hair had already begun to gray under the stress of his position. It had been two years since end of the Miltian conflict and the dissolution of the empire under the Keiji clan. Just last year the Senate had convened and elected him out of the four candidates presented by the four Guild family clans, Bashianus, Dagobel, Eraclea, and Hamilton. He then married Alexandra Sakurai, the first daughter of Aramaki-Keiji Sakurai, the last remaining descendent of the Keiji clan, to unite the new Republic with the old ruling family. After putting together this quarter’s budget and other domestic issues, Toshiro decided that he should take some time to rest and do some traveling.

The small shuttle taxied onto one of the many launching canals that bridged between the spaceport and the colony proper to outer space. Once outside, the shuttle drifted towards the Blues Driver. The Blues Driver is a Durandal-2 Class Mobile Fortress can be noted for its sword like shape, though uniform for all Durandal category space craft, its unique quad aft wing-like orbiters and its blue and white colored hull to distinguish itself from the combat variants. Along either side of the Blues Driver are two smaller ships, classified as original Durandal Class Battlecruisers, the Zephyrus and Steyr. Dwarfed by the Blues Driver that is at least five times larger, the Zephyrus and Steyr are four kilometers long and are colored red.

Once the shuttle entered the Blues Driver’s aft docking bay, the three ship contingent slowly turned towards Miltia’s designated UMN column area to gate into hyperspace. By the time Lord Maestro Toshiro had stepped out of the shuttle, the three space craft had already entered hyperspace and were on their way to Turnomess vor Odessa.

OOC: Sorry for the late and poor quality post, I've had too much homework.

(OOC: sorry for the wait, post should be coming soon. I've been a bit dry on creativity lately.)

Having washed away their travel dust, and otherwise made themselves ready, the Elkwood delegation gathered in the small hall that had been arranged for them during their stay in Turnomess vor Odessa.
The hall was of circular shape, with doors to the bedrooms and other necessary facilities along the walls, as well as the large, arched entrance to the garden. The high ceiling was entirely made up of a great dome of glass through which, at this time of the day, early starlight was shining down on the little assembly.
There was no fireplace, Edmond noted, and although the air was considerably warmer than anything he had experienced in Elkwood, and full of intriguing scents, this detail had somehow managed to be a disappointment.
He gazed around at the others. Lady Annabelle was wearing an elaborate green dress with a thin silver cord around her waist, Edmond was not at all surprised she had chosen this style of clothing, although she would not be able to wear it for fore than one or two hours before they all would retire to their beds. Sir Flynn was dressed in vivid crimson, with one of those plumed hats that he had taken fancy of lately, Sir Ellsworth was wearing a purple silk outfit which he, if Edmond knew him correctly, probably intended to sleep in, and Ingralf looked just like Ingralf used to look.
Sir Flynn munched thoughtfully on what appeared to be an apple he had found in a bowl on the low marble table in the middle of the hall.
“At least you can’t complain about the food around here” he said “as little as I’ve eaten, almost all of it has been delicious.”
“Not that that counts for anything” Annabelle replied “You seem perfectly content to eat anything that doesn’t try to run away when you poke it with a fork, or has any strange foreign name you can’t pronounce…”
She picked up a small red fruit from the table, Tom the squirrel was running around among the bowls, jugs and various decorations, apparently with no higher goal than running in mind. “But I agree. Its nice here” she paused “I just wonder what kind of people really lives here, I’ve never had the opportunity to meet any elves before, said in strict confidence it actually makes me a bit nervous.”
“I expect most of us are” Ingralf said. “Of course, there’s no need to worry about our hosts. Not when we have our fellow visitors to worry about, anyway…”

Trine had also bathed and changed.
Although she had disguarded most of her ceremonial armour, she still wore the ornate bronze breast plate over a deep red dress. Fitted at the top it, so that it wasn't bulky under armour, it flowed long and full from her hip, making her look far more feminine than she had appeared on arrival.
She undid her hair thick blond hair and brushed it until it shone like rivlets of gold flowing down her back, then pulling on a light wieght cloak, matching her dress.

She turned and smiled at the raven perched, it's head cocked to one side, on the bed post.
"Well? Will I pass muster?"

Strapping on her bronze and silver sword, Trine adjusts her cloak and picks up her helm, tucking it comfortabely into the crook of her left arm.

Opening the door, she steps to the side, allowing the raven to fly effortlessly out and down the passage way, following it to see if she can locate any of the other guests.

[]

You know, it really is an unfortunate asteroid that we're going to discuss for a moment. For some reason, transmissions from all over the universe manage to reach it. Normally, and for most asteroids, this would not be much of a problem. Unfortunately, for this particular asteroid the problem was rather annoying - sort of like certain...problems that can arise in humans: embarrassing and something that you are told is "perfectly normal", a comment that does absolutely nothing for your dignity. Anyway, this asteroid's problem is a certain rare ore that (and yes, I use this particular asteroid fairly frequently) takes the transmissions on a thoroughly enjoyable tour of the universe, including black holes, crystal beaches beside ammonia oceans, and even the occassional hyperintelligent shade of the colour blue restaurant owner. Anyway, after this little tour of Life (perhaps not), the Universe (Check) and Everything (Possible), the transmissions end up at EntryGate, get sent through the only route through The Nebula to GateStation where they hang around for a bit before being kicked out in the general direction of Goblin Sitay. Here, they are recevied by the "Ginormuss Ressepticonatererer" and brought to the King.

Anyway, regardless of the various goings-on of transmissions, asteroids and Ginormuss Ressepticonatererers, the end result was that a reply was sent (having been written by a human scribe).

[i]To High Priestess Elenya Danilahn,

We gladly accept your most gracious invitation to the Festival of the Moon, and I hope that my representative will facilitate further meetings between our respective peoples.

I send as a representative Commodore-Admiral Shinvort Clap, currently commanding the Big Shyp "Reel Shiny", along with gifts in token of the event. I, and we, hope that they prove at least entertaining and look forward to future relations.

The Reel Shiny will halt outside your system, and C-A Clap will be flown in, with honour guard, by a GateGoblin craft.

Regards,

King Griptite da Supa

King of the Goblin Lands,
Overlord of the Goblin Nebula,
Protector of Goblindom,
Head Honcho of the Geen Powa Movement,
High Mage of the Nebula
Uniter of the Combined Goblin Collective

Being a squirrel, Tom reasoned, was almost like having magic powers. Of course, Tom had never been anything else than a squirrel, and did therefore perhaps not fully appreciate the advantages of his position, but this did not prevent him from feeling a certain vague gratitude towards his parents for also being squirrels.

First of all, he was small. He could hide anywhere, climb even the steepest walls, and jump longer than most mammals of his size. Also he was blessed with a fairly acute set of senses, as well as the useful, albeit slightly unnerving, ability to sense danger, that is every rodents best friend.

And if this wasn’t enough he was also in perfect control of the most dangerous power in the universe, which was that of looking cute and fluffy.

The most important powers of a squirrel, however, were those of the mind. Naturally, a squirrel’s brain, having to fit inside a squirrel’s head, is not very large, and can therefore not contain the same amount of information as the mind of, say, a human.

This is not the same thing as saying squirrels are stupid, that would be like saying meticulously designed Italian handbags are of less value than heavy old wheeled suitcases, because the latter can hold a higher amount of stuff.

Anyway, since Tom’s brain was not capable of containing very much information, he simply had to concentrate on the important parts. Thus it was that he, running around among the plates and bowls on the table, did not know where he was, nor how he had got there, but within seconds had located every available food source within a 200 yards radius.

But since he wasn’t hungry, and there did not appear to be the slightest danger anywhere around, he got rather bored, and when his fine, sensitive and indisputably pretty nose caught the smells of night air coming through the large door in one end of the room, he found himself, with nothing even remotely like a conscious decision, moving in that direction.

The wind was cold and fresh, and whispered to him about things well beyond his wildest dreams. As he went through the gate and out into the garden he had still no thought about who or what was awaiting him, but he knew, whit a certainty beyond that of any rational creature, that they would be positively delighted to see him.

The visitors from Elkwood are disturbed as a large black shape bursts through from the hallway and into the room.
In a rush of wind and flurry of feathers, the huge corvid lands on the table. Sliding and scrabbling in an attempt to get a grip on the table cloth it scatters bowls and dishes, sending most crashing to the floor.
Regaining it's balance and attempting to look dignified, the raven looks at those assembled as it stretches it's wings, then tucks them neatly away.

He takes a swaggering step forward then drops a rather stunned, but otherwise unharmed squirrel onto the table in front of it, looking up it opens it's beak wide and screeches at them, it's sharp black beak snapping angrily at the air.

"Good evening M'Lady, Gentlemen....."

It is now Trine's turn to stand in the doorway, her face showing just a
touch of amusement.

"I believe the Raven is trying to tell you that it is not wise for pet rodents to be out in the open on such a clear night as this.
Allow me to introduce myself, I am Trine, Valkyrja, a guest here for the celebrations."

The raven was still standing on the table in the middle of what looked like the last meal in Lemuria, served shortly before the islands annihilation, eying the rest of the room as though apparently owning it.
Sir Flynn glanced from the bird to its mistress “What a beautiful creature” he said, then adding, almost as an afterthought “Of course, the raven looks rather good, too”
The effect would have been rather delicate, had he not been at least the head shorter than the Valkyrja, and had he been able suppress the quite audible laughter that had emerged as a result of his own wit.
Sir Ellsworth smiled vaguely at this, before cutting in at just the right moment “My Lady, please allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Ellsworth, and my friends are; Ingralf…”
The grey man nodded.
“Sir Flynn…”
“I believe I am quite capable of introducing myself” Flynn said, “Sir Wilbert Flynn, at your service” he bowed so deep that his illustrious hat almost touched the ground.
“Lady Annabelle…” For a moment Lady Annabelle looked as though she had forgotten entirely how to greet the visitor, but then she smiled a not entirely friendly smiled and curtsied. “Pleased to meet you” she said.
“And our most beloved Prince Edmond Elkenwood…”
“Nice to meet you” he said “My name is Edmond”. And then, as in a desperate attempt to make himself more interesting “Prince Edmond”

Trine shook her head ever so slightly and smiled an amused smile at Sir Flynn's opening remark.
She nodded politely as each introduced themselves, taking care, particularly in Lady Annabelle's case, to match their welcomes.

"What a charming group of travellers, I am so pleased to find myself blessed with such company."

She makes her way to the devastated table, sighing as she holds her arm out for the Raven to step onto. It's weight and the fact that it's claws were dug into her arm for grip seemingly to mean nothing to her, as she turned towards the comapany.

"This is my companion Quoth, I'm afraid he is a big fan of Edgar Alan Poe's Gothic novels and poetry, so chose the name for himself."

Settling him onto the back of an armchair, she procedes to clear up the mess, turning again with the small bundle of fur in her hand.

"I think that our furry friend may need a little comfort from it's carer? He seems to be fine, no damage, though I fear he may still be just a little afraid when he has realised he hasn't become raven supper."

She looks at those assembled then offers the creature to the most likely candidate.

"Your's perhaps Sir Flynn?"

Empress Penelope studied her reflection in her compact, making sure her makeup was emmaculate, her blond hair was fell in perfect natural curly place over her heart-shaped face and her baby doll blue eyes. Her 3'in nails were painted bright yellow to match her yellow silk sleeveless dress, she wore a yellow mink fur coat to protect agianst an imagined chill. The Empress to the Son of Heaven wore many rings made of gold and yellow diamonds and a necklass with a skrom on it (a tiger with deer antlers, the symbol for the Way of Peace).

"Why am I going to this heathen festival?" she thought out loud as the car began to pull up. "Because it will help spread the glory of the Empire to the Heathens Your Majesty." Bistro, the head of her security detail answered without thinking.

The door to the limo opened and two of the five guards who were armed with Mag-12's and wore extra clips (and plenty of other hidden goodies!) stepped out to aid the Empress out. Her yellow stiletto heels touched the ground and surrounded by her guards swepped into Elkwood Hall.



Her Beloved Majesty Empress Penelope ti‘Io Rystal, Beloved Mother of the Dynasty, Consort of the Son of Heaven, Keeper of Peace

Empress Penelope heard a conversation between a "Trine" and a "Sir Flynn" and decided to introduce herself after she and her security detail swepped into the hall with much pomp, the very symbol of Rystal Dynasty excess.

"Hello, I am Empress Penelope of Khallayne, may I ask who you are?" the young and very pregnant monarch said, her doll-like eyes and her heart-shapped face seemed to suck in the viewer demanding that they reveal their mysteries to it while revealing none of it's own.


Her Beloved Majesty Empress Penelope ti‘Io Rystal, Beloved Mother of the Dynasty, Consort of the Son of Heaven, Keeper of Peace

(OOC. You may want to read the thread and ammend your posts first, before any reply.
There is no party, there is no herald to announce your arrival. At the moment there are two seperate nations guests in a small hall set asside for the use of the Elkwood guests)

(OOC. You may want to read the thread and ammend your posts first, before any reply.
There is no party, there is no herald to announce your arrival. At the moment there are two seperate nations guests in a small hall set asside for the use of the Elkwood guests)

OOC: Which one are you at then? This thread is a little confusing.

(OOC At the moment there are two nations active in the thread, they are both in the Elkwood hall.)

OOC: Done

Quoth Cawed in what could only be disgust at this 'things' arrival and Trine was forced to stifle a grin as she heard his thoughts echo through her mind.
It's a walking daffodil.....or a bowl of custard.....may Odin save us we have been invaded by walking custard!

Ignoring the Empress for a moment she carefully handed the Squirrel to Sir Flynn, then with a straight and unemotional face she nodded her head towards Penelope.

That baby she's carrying will be born jaundiced...you mark my words!
Trine shot the Raven a warning glance before speaking.

"There is very little need to introduce yourself Empress, my sisters and I watched you on a recent broadcast.
I am Trine of the Valkyrja, but I am sure you would just prefer to call me "Heathan""

((should have posted something yesterday, but anyways; ))

Sir Flynn made a brave attempt to smile at Trine as he took the none-to-willing squirrel, and tried not to look embarrassed as the creature, after doing a surprising amount of damage to his expensive vest, made a surprise attack towards the feathers in his hat, before running away to the security of the motionless Ingralf.
Meanwhile Sir Ellsworth, a huge dragon-like being, presently dressed in a purple pyjama with tiny silver stars, had turned towards their new visitor, greeting her with what appeared to be sincere respect, or even reverence.
Lady Annabelle, too, had turned toward the Empress, as though waiting for Sir Ellsworth to introduce her.
Prince Edmond tried very hard to suppress a sudden desire to laugh, which had emerged simultaneously with the appearance of the saffron coloured entity. As this gave his face a shade very similar to that of Sir Ellsworth’s clothing, he manoeuvred towards the remnants of the table, trying to find something to drink.
Ingralf, meanwhile, had not moved an inch as the squirrel climbed up his robes and seated itself on the brim of his pointed grey hat, without the slightest movement of the head his gaze turned from Trine to Penelope, his eyes not only expressionless but positively radiating non-expression.

Look that prince fellow has the right idea!

Quoth hopped back onto the table waddling his way over to where Prince Edmond was desperately trying to find something to drink.

Tell him mines a double, I'm going to need it with Empress Marigold there AND Lady Snootypants..... damned fluffy women...... drive me mad.

Spying a bottle of fine brandy half hidden under the loose cover of an armchair, he takes a dive for it, dragging it out into view.

I claim first glass..... ravens have needs too y'know!...... OY!! HANDMAIDEN OF ODIN! ARE YOU LISTENING OR HAS THE YELLOW PERIL GOT YOU IN HER EVIL CLUTCHES?

“Although I was naturally expecting nothing less of you, I daresay you look perfectly divine” Edmond heard Sir Ellsworth saying to the Empress as he reached the table. It was a rather large table, and most of the food and drink appeared to be undamaged, although the first impression had suggested otherwise.
He heard Lady Annabelle saying a long line of adjectives, many of them superlatives, ending in “lovely” before he found a promising bottle of cider. As he was looking for something to open it with, the raven (what was its name again? “Quote” or “Quota” or something) approached him with a disconcertingly human expression on its face.
Are you thirsty, little bird? The thought entered his mind from apparently nowhere at all, and although instantly dismissed, it left a strange, lingering trace at the back of his consciousness.
There’s the bottle opener and there’s a glass, maybe I want a slice of lemon with this…
Yes, the raven is most certainly thirsty… I wonder what it wants… something strong probably…
The night had barely started, and already he had the feeling it would be very long.

Quoth's expression turns to what one could only term as a grin of satisfaction.

Ahhhhhhhhh.......so wherever this fellah's from he's got a bit of Norse blood in him.......I've managed to get through to him.

But his look of triumph turns as he sees him pick up the cider.

NOOOOOO! NOT THE APPLE JUICE YOU FOOL! GIVE ME THE DAMNED BRANDY!!!

Like a footballer passing a ball, the raven swings it's leg and sends the bottle of brandy rolling at spead towards Edmond.

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

Meanwhile, Trine has taken the advantage of Lady Annabelle's practiced pleasantries and hearing the mental commotion behind her, also turns towards the table, just in time to see Quoth's swipe at the brandy bottle.

Seeing it heading towards Edmunds foot, she bends quickly to grab it before any more damage was caused.
She intercepts it with her own foot and picks it up grinning at the Prince.

"Are you looking for an opener for that bottle?"

She pulls to cork from the brandy, it gives a deep satisfying *pop* as it releases allowing the rich dark aroma of the bottles contents to escape after some fifty years of captivity.

"Or would you like share some of this with Quoth and I?"

“Oh, yes, thank you…” Edmond said. His head was still a little fuzzy, and although he did not think the brandy would cure this, it would at least give his condition a sound, chemical explanation.
Flynn, too, had appeared beside him, carrying a few empty glasses “Mind if I join in?” he said “I’m sure there’s enough to drink for all of us, and it’s such a beautiful evening. Very…” he turned his head indicatively towards the other group “Very colourful.”

Trine almost spills the brandy she is pouring as Sir Flynn makes his last remark, but manages to keep a straight face and steady hand!

Come on woman! Get that stuff down here! Don't you know what yellow does to a ravens vision? I need anesthetic!

"OH Shush!"

She bends down and places a glass next to Quoth, then as though this was a perfectly normal action, she stands and continues to pour.

"Yes, most certainly sir Flynn, it seems to have taken on a most sunny aspect. Are you well Prince Edmond? You seem a little confused?"

Empress Penelope smilled to herself as she poured herself a small brandy, she had quietly listened to the conversation after her arrival. Her bright yellow nails flashed in the light as she took a drink of the fine brandy. "Wonderful." she thought to herself as she tasted every fiber of the drink on her tongue.


Her Beloved Majesty Empress Penelope ti‘Io Rystal, Beloved Mother of the Dynasty, Consort of the Son of Heaven, Keeper of Peace

Trine watched in amazement as the Empress ignored the glass that she had poured for her and allowed her to take the bottle from her hand.
She shrugged and pulled a face at Sir Flynn, then drank the 'Empresses' brandy in one, replacing the glass with her own and taking another drink from that.

What in Hel's name IS this ill mannered creature?
Quoth almost hissed out the words as he ruffled his feathers indignantly.
And THIS is the one that names us heathans?

Trine rolled her eyes at the Ravens exclamation, but made no reply.
Instead she turned her attention back to Edmund, obviously, Quoth's 'messages' to him had completely beffuddled him.

"Prince Edmond, would you care to join me in the gardens for a walk? I believe the fresh air would do you good."

The Empress then smilled at Trine and said, "Sorry about not drinking from your offering but old habits die hard*."

*Note: Until the invention of the Poison Snooper (which detects all known toxic substances in food or drink) Imperial Family members by tradition would only eat or drink of food that wasn't offered to them at parties. (weird I know)

The Empress then brushed a loose strand of her curly blond hair away with her left hand, her yellow nails gleammed like gold in the light. In reality she had heard in a fuzzy way the Ravens message but didn't fully understand what it meant, except it was directed at her in someway. Which wasn't shocking because she was the Consort to the Son of Heaven for the Prophet's sake!


Her Beloved Majesty Empress Penelope ti‘Io Rystal, Beloved Mother of the Dynasty, Consort of the Son of Heaven, Keeper of Peace

Trine looks at the Empress.

"What you wish to do when it comes to food and drink honourably given by a host is your concern Empress.
However, there is something that we 'heathens' learn from birth and that is manners.
Tell me, does your religion preclude them or is it only yourself that has this flaw in their nature?"

The Empress sky-blue eyes turned into ice chip filled with indignation, "How DARE you question my manners or honor you..." the Empress cut off her words and then said, "No, I won't sink to your level, we can play the game of insult but I think I will be the bigger person and walk away from your OUTLANDISH inuendo."

The Empress then stalked off outside to one of the gardens, her guards almost running to catch up with their angry Monarch.

The small room almost sighed as the extra eleven people made their exit.

Sipping her brandy, Trine watched as they left, her face emotionless.
"Oh dear, I seem to have insulted the Empress."

She turned and addressed the party from Elkwood.
"I do apologise M'Lady, Gentlemen. This is your hall and I should not have spoken like that, even to one who was so ill mannered. I trust that you'll forgive me?"

The Empress didn't know where she was going, only that she had to get out of that party of people who were just SEARCHING for a chance to insult her. Eventually she sat down on a bench in one of the gardens which in the moonlight was a spectacular sight, which reminded the Empress of the Garden of Stillness in the Imperial City (a 300 mile complex of palaces and gardens that the Rystal Dynasty called home).

"Where's my cellphone?" the Empress snapped at her guards who handed to her. She then called her husband and slowly she grew furious agian as she started yelling into the phone about her (so far) not so fabulous night.

Eventually she will run out of steam...

Eventually.

Finally all the guests had arrived some sooner than others, some with grace, others with simplicity but they had arrived, early, late was of little concern to Odessa, The One Goddess, as she sat in the temple garden alone inconspicuously, there was no fun being a goddess if you were noticed everywhere you go.

Several things grabbed at her mind as she fiddled idly with her outfit, a long sheer silk wrap around skirt and with a matching halter style top, very plain signify a low level priestess. Easier to blend in and be forgotten should anyone notice her which if she wasn’t a goddess would be quite easy, being the only elven woman in the entire nation to have dark green hair and matching green eyes that seemed to hold the soul of every living creature and plant in them.

After a while of watching others go about their business she stood up carefully brushing away the dirt and ceases on her skirt. She quickly made her way deep into the temple occasionally being greeted by a passing priestess or guard as she made her way to the elevator, would take her to the capital far, far under the earth where the guests and many elves lived, although she mused the guests would probably forget they were underground what with the holographic walls and walk into them once or twice.

The door closed behind her with a gentle hiss followed by the steady hum as it descended at break-neck speeds. Eventually the elevator began to slow and a cheerful voice quietly echoed the very walls.

Welcome to Larsen City, Capital of Turnomess vor Odessa, it is currently 7:00 pm and the temperature is a warm 18 degrees Celsius. Enjoy your stay during the festival of the moon and we hope to see you next year.

Again the door hissed gentle and Odessa stepped out, although in a completely different outfit, a maid’s outfit to be exact. She quickly made her way amongst the crowd as she stare up the seemingly infinitely high walls, they too displayed real time video feeds of the ground above them, while the elves of Turnomess vor Odessa lived underground they were extremely claustrophobic, so extra measures had to be taken to ensure everyone remained mentally and physically well, like the video feeds and having the air mixed with the scent of whatever that day’s weather was. After a while of walking about the city she came to the area that was designated for the guests of the festival.

Something tugged at her mind, not so much a thing as a person a very powerful person at that. Slowly and cautiously her head peaked into the room of the Elenaran and Elentári, spotting a piece of high guard armor on the floor and sounds coming from deeper in the quarters, she decided it would be best to leave while she wasn’t noticed and proceed down on cleaning the rooms and discreetly checking out the other guests.

~//discontinuity\\~

The Festival begins! Four hours had passed and the several figures, including the High Priestess Elenya and High Guard Tidyl, among other high ranking priestesses atop of the temple as the moon shone a calming blue behind them hovering just above Elenya and the others. From the every wall in every building in every city the beat of drums echoed signalling the beginning of ni’lir mon luna the festival of the moon, occasionally the same cheerful voice that played in the elevators sprang to life instructing everyone to head above ground and amass at the local temples.

Several priestesses were sent down to collect the honored guests and led them to their reserved seats.

“Tidyl, I haven’t seen you since this morning, were the kin guests curious to see all that our home had to offer?” Elenya whispered keeping her eyes forward as they stood atop the temple watching the crowd quickly amass before their eyes.

“Something like that High Priestess…” Tidyl replied smiling broadly and glowing softly as they waited.

“Oh…oh! “Elenya made a quick glance at her companion smirking mischievously before regaining her composure, with a delicate cough she spoke “Tonight we Celebrate ni’lir mon luna, the festival of the moon. Throughout the ages we have paid homage to the Goddess Odessa, and we ask of her to smile upon our future endeavors, and bring us prosperity.”

Tidyl and the other high-ranking priestesses quickly took several steps away from the High Priestess as a low rumble quickly grew into a roaring thunder as a pillar of white light grew around the High Priestess, her limbs outstretched and her head slowly tilted up towards the heavens. The pillar quickly set flight towards the black night. Behind them the moon shifted from a calm blue to a dark emerald green, the festival had truly begun.

“Dance! Feast! Celebrate! And may your children be strong and wise! For the festival of the moon has begun!”

(ooc: sorry I took so long, hope the size makes up for it. )

((OOC: I’m not entirely sure what I’m s’posed to write, hope this will do, tell me if it doesn’t))

Things had calmed down considerably in the Elkwood hall as the empress and her company left, and even the always cheerful Sir Ellsworth looked slightly pleased as the last bodyguard (his black suit looking even darker when compared to his mistress), disappeared towards the garden.

Being the supposed leader of the party, Prince Edmond accepted Trine’s apologies, and Sir Flynn was just about to make some witty remark about sunflowers, and how their leaves were sadly scattered in the wind, when a voice from a loudspeaker told them that the festival was beginning and it was time to make it towards the temple grounds.

Shortly thereafter a small group of elven servants appeared, apparently to show them the way.
Last of all came a small priestess with green hair, and eyes the colour of a deep lake in the middle of an even deeper forest. No one seemed to notice her as she silently entered the room, but Ingralf, finally leaving his spot in the corner, smiled one of his all too unusual smiles towards her, as he made himself ready to leave.

Trine too was relieved when the announcement came for the beginning of the festivities.
She did not enjoy being rude or haughty, even though at times it was needed so much that it was warranted.

With Quoth balanced on her shoulder, she followed the Elkwood party to the temple.

Hessitating for a moment as she noticed the green haired woman, who had greeted her as a priestess, when she had arrived, noticing now that she was a 'servant'.
Under the guise of handing her the glass she still held in her hand, Valdra inclined her head and spoke quietly.
"My lady, I know not your name, but I know what you are, if it pleases you, I would like to speak to you during my visit?"

Both the raven and Trine once more inclined their heads and without further comment continued to the opening ceremony.

.........

Trine watched the opening ceremony with interest and pleasure.

It wasn't often, these days, that rituals such as these were performed.
She sighed, remembering the good times a few hundred years back, when the valkyrja would be invited to so many, they would have to refuse some of them, simply to give them enough time for their own duties.

As Elenya brought the cermony to a close, Trine sat for a moment to allow the other guests to move first.
Seeing that the High Priestess was already swamped with others wishing to formerly introduce themselves, she decided to wander through the crowds and see who she could find.

The Empress Penelope had endured all she could of this Heathen place, so after her "conversation" with her husband the Consort to the Son of Heaven departed with her security detail from this Prophetless place to return to the one land where the Will of Yellow Heaven was respected, Khallayne.

Little did she know that both her and her husbands days were numbered...


Her Beloved Majesty Empress Penelope ti‘Io Rystal, Beloved Mother of the Dynasty, Consort of the Son of Heaven, Keeper of Peace

The Elkwood party gathered in the square in front of the temple, being foreign dignities they had been offered fairly good places and an excellent view of the ceremony, but Sir Ellsworth nevertheless produced a small pair of binoculars through which he watched the ritual with curiosity and excitement.

The square was full of people, and although almost all of them were elves, no one seemed to pay the strangers any attention.
It was rather dark, all light coming from the bedazzling night sky, and Edmond felt considerably more alert; in fact he felt better than he had done in quite a while.

As the pillar of living light ascended before them he was far from the only one to escape an audible “ooh”, he could hear Sir Ellsworth saying something about “most fascinating, very interesting indeed” as he abandoned the binoculars in favour of a small notebook and an exclusive ballpoint pencil.

Tom, having fallen asleep on the brim of Ingralf’s hat, looked confusedly about him, blinking in the sudden brightness.
When the ceremony ended, they all felt more awake than they had done before, and so they decided to see what else the night had to offer.

"Oh! I do beg your pardon!"

Trine's attention had been averted by a flash of green hair way off in the crowd and she hadn't been taking notice of where she was walking.
"Oh Prince Edmund, we meet again? You are looking much better than the last time we met, I had the feeling thta all you needed was a little fresh air."

She smiled and looked at Sir Ellsworth.
"Lovely ceremony was it not? It's been a long time since I was amongst elfen kind, almost forgot how 'special' thier festivals can be."

“Indeed” Sir Ellsworth said “As little experience as I’ve had with the elves, this took me almost utterly by surprise (not that I haven’t heard stories of course, but then, what stories haven’t I heard?), very interesting, wouldn’t you say? Very remarkable…”

“Yes, I’m feeling a lot better now” Edmond said absent-mindedly, his eyes fixed on a small cluster of stars to the left of, and slightly above, Trine’s head “It must have been the air…I think…” he eyed the raven incredulously.

Sir Flynn smiled, or rather broadened the perpetual grin that was his mouth “I trust you’ve enjoyed your stay, so far… We didn’t really have the time for a proper introduction before, why don’t we hunt down something to drink and have a little talk about… something” Flynn hesitated, his smile fading only by the smallest noticeable degree, before increasing once again, revealing a full spectrum of white and ever so slightly pointed teeth “Of course I don’t mean to be rude, that would be… far from my intentions.”

Quoth seemed to smile and wink back at Edmund.
Yes lad, it was me......I was talking to you..........Where's the Nordic blood in yer lineage then?

He ruffled his feathers a little as Trine gave him a stern look.
Leave him alone Quoth....you're just confusing him and well you know it!

Trine turned her attention back to the gentlemen in front of her, smiling at Prince Edmund, then nodding in agreement with Sir Elsworth.
"Yes one of the best of it's kind of ceremony I have had the pleasure to see, perhaps we could chat later on the matter and fill you in on the others I have seen?"

She grins as widely back at Sir Flynn as he had at her.
"But, if you will forgive me, this kind gentleman has made the sanest suggestion I have heard yet.......Lead the way Sir Flynn, I have quite a thirst this evening."

((ooc: sorry for the recent inactivity, but that annoying part of my life called ”living” was requiring some, apparently undeserved, attention))

“And of we go!” Sir Flynn said, gesticulating theatrically “I’m sure this nice town will be able to provide us with the finest drinks we may desire! And in the mean time we’ll just have a good time going through the rest”

Sir Ellsworth smiled “Well, I’ll just leave you youngsters, or in your case, eternally young” he nodded at Trine “at it. Meanwhile Ingralf and I shall explore this wondrous city, an enterprise probably involving some food and drink as well, but doubtfully in the same magnitude as you seem to have intended. Au revoir”

The two shapes disappeared rapidly in the crowd.
“So, shall we go, then?” Flynn asked “Of course we might as well stay here drinking the quiet evening air, but regrettably that kind of consumption only serves to make me thirstier…”

Lady Annabelle looked meaningfully at Edmond “So, this is about to become another nightly episode of Flynn Force Four.” She smiled faintly.
“So it seems” Edmond said “Or, rather, five… don’t forget the raven.”

"Is he unsettling you Prince Edmund?"

Trine gestures to Quoth who was at that moment looking around trying to pretend he wasn't there.

I'm not unsettling you am I Eddie me lad, you want me to come along and sample the night life with you don't you?

Trine masks her annoyance with a well practiced smile as she acknowledges Sir Elseworths departure, then turns back to the Prince.

"If he is, I can easily send him elsewhere."
Stop that at once Quoth or elsewhere will be home!

Prince Edmond appeared to be thinking intensely for a moment. Being a member of the aristocracy, he had been given ample training in appearing to think, basically because it was a much more valuable art, and easier to cope with, than actual thinking.

Suddenly he discovered that a few thoughts actually had formed in the back of his mind. Where he came from, birds were either small non-offensive things, jumping around the courtyard looking for something to eat, or otherwise to pleas themselves with (in this aspect they differed from most of the Elkwood upper class mainly in that the latter conducted its business while appearing to think), or tremendous, tremendously dead, creations lying on the dinner table covered in one sauce or another, with strange vegetables in odd places. The raven, on the other hand, was different.

“No” Edmund said quickly “Let him stay. He’s… entertaining, after all.”

And so, with this Important Matter Being Settled, they continued their walk through the city, the prince being Sure He Had Come To A Just and Reasonable Conclusion by His Own Good Judgement and Free Will.

Trine followed walking beside Lady Annabelle, allowing the men the make a pathway through the crowds.

See? Nothing to do with me that one......He just likes my company....Oh the joys of the suggestable......OOPS....I projected that didn't I Trine....

"And did you enjoy the ceremony M'Lady?"

Yes you damned well did Quoth and there will be no more of it....that is not why Odin sent you with me......

"I myself found it very calming and it had just the right edge of drama to it, sometimes todays Elfen kind try to make it too 'spectacular', trying to cope with technology's numbing effects on natural forces."

In fact I don't remember Odin asking me to bring you at all.I seem to remember saying you could come if you behaved yourself.......which you are Not!

At this realisation Quoth edges close the her neck and delicately nibbles at her ear with his razor sharp beak.

Awwwwwwww..you wouldn't send me back really would you? I'll be a good boy I promise.......

"But I have yet to see a lazer light show or computor controlled fireworks, or music video that can match anything they can produce through nature."

The next two guests to arrive were both somewhat less impressive, but still undeniably regal. The first, evidently an elf, was no less than seven feet in height, with long black hair falling loosely over his shoulders, dressed in a robe of bronze diamante fabric that glinted in the sunlight as he stepped down from the shuttle. In one ringed hand he held an ornate staff that stood higher than he, and upon the blade-edges of its head the light flickered with a strange fire as the fractal-edge blade induced fission in the very molecules of the air that came into direct contact with it, confounding the nuclear forces at the heart of the atoms and releasing tiny scatterings of light and radiations.

Each such staff of light was an individually crafted work of art, unique to its bearer, tracing its ancestry to the ancient necrontyr clerical blade-plays, an art form occasionally still practiced, which had its own rules for the construction of its props, which were also unique to their owners. This one was no mere ordinary staff of light however. The icon it bore upon its blades was the seal of Mephet’ran, and the silver haft of the staff bore script so fine that the eye was drawn into its silvery depths, promising immense knowledge to those who would take the lifetimes of work needed to translate the curving circular scripts that regressed infinitely on its surface.

The staff’s bearer bore on his head a circlet of gold and glittering diamonded adamantium, a rare material with greater compressive strength than even the finest living metals and hardness that eclipsed that of industrial diamonds as greatly as they did redwood. He introduced himself as Athrana ‘Herufiriemmolie’ Aisteraneyra, Lord of the Necrons. Accompanying him was another of his kind, though one would not think it to look at her, less but still tall, heather-skinned and possessed of a long mane of relucent silver hair she was garbed in similar if somewhat less elaborate robes, and introduced as Asalae Salavante. She bore a different style of staff belonging to Sirithil, a gift she had received in token of friendship, an implement of great sorcerous power made of the true-silver and a sapient wood. These two guests made way for the next two.

It was not true that all of the people of the polity that was becoming known by some as ‘Greater Menelmacar’ – the empires of The C’tan and Menelmacar, named that simply because it was widely agreed that ‘The C’tan’ was no name for a state, hence that state was often referred to as ‘the Necrontyr Empire’ in speech – were possessed of immeasurable majesty and a tangible aura of age and power, but one could be forgiven for thinking so as the last of the main delegation arrived.

They were very much like the first pair of guests, and accompanied by another pair of the Mornahossë, once more for more ceremonial purposes than actual practicality, for this pair contained the closest elf in mortal realms to the sorcerous abilities of the Elentári, Aelosia, Elurín nos Dior nos Lúthien, the recently abdicated Everqueen of the Empire that bore her forename, and the other remaining ancient C’tan, Asirnoth, the brother of Mephet’ran.

Asirnoth was much like his brother in stature, but darker, where the air around the gestures of Mephet’ran seemed to be golden, it seemed to fade ephemerally as if under the influence of some dangerous and deceptive glamour that spiced the very space around the star-god with a flavour of anticipation of things yet to come, rather than the great onus of the past that accompanied the other. Though he no longer considered such burdens irrelevant, the Void Dragon was a far less contemplative being than the other side of his id, and anticipated the future to a greater extent, but thought upon it less, more inclined to live from moment to moment, he was inclined to take longer to come to an understanding of the complexities of another being, but in his way, to explore them far deeper.

In place of the grey mantle his brother had worn over white, he wore a black over-robe that gleamed as if slicked with water but was dry as the ground beneath him, over shimmering gold fabrics that shone with inner fire. His hair, as long as was the fashion of the time, drank in all that touched it, becoming the deepest blackness that could be seen except for starlight, here and there, from diamonds woven into his hair metamorphosing into a reduced version of the winged and diamonded crown of the Necrontyr Empire.

Aelosia bore a similar crown. She was as exceptional as Sirithil, though in different ways, among the race of Quendi. Dressed in a gold dress that emitted the same soft light as her consort’s robes, she smiled. Her dark eyes did not shine in the same way as the Elentári’s, but instead shone, when an observing eye was directed at them, with the lineage of the spirit who once mentored the first nightingales in the arts of song-weaving and singing. Her rich and lustrous dark hair hovered lightly about her shoulders, suspended in the air to prevent it becoming an annoyance to her.

Others came and left throughout the festival, but their roles and importance were far less.

----

Later, sitting at the guest’s table at the opening festivities of the night, Elurín was drawn to comment in hushed tones to Asirnoth, speculating on how precisely the effect of the change came about. Arnran, and the Elentári and Elenaran themselves, busily watched the locals dancing, aiming to pick up the style.

As they continued their walk through the crowds, Quoth catches a glimpse of bronze and gold and shimmering silver, twisting his head to get a better look.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO................SHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIINNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

What?

Shiny people over there, Elfen I believe, though by the size of that fellah, they could be small giants......I reckon he's taller than you!
Now that IS a ceremonial costume, not like the Valkyrja in their boring red and bronze.....what you girls need is shiny, lots of shiny.....make you stand out more.....yeah and one of those staff things instead of those boring spears you carry around, bit more glamour I reckon......

Trine sighs and shakes her head slightly.

You and your shiny, how can an intelligent, well read Raven like yourself still be beguiled by "Shiny"?
You know damned well that we don't want to 'stick out', our perpose upon this world is for a different reason and well you know and my ceremonial garb is fine thank you very much!
Now go and make yourself useful.....Look there's a table there out side that tavern place......Yes there.....go claim it before someone else does!

Trine places her hand gently on Lady Annabelle's shoulder to get her attention and points towards the table ad Quoth launches himself towards it.

"Your Highness, M'Lord."
She calls to the two men walking a few paces ahead.
"I have found somewhere for us to sit and take refreshment."

Lady Annabelle, too, had noticed the passing of the strange, ethereal, yet divinely beautiful elves, and snapped back to attention at the touch of Trine’s hand, as though awakening from a dream.
Almost shocked she realized that she had been staring stupidly into thin air, and immediately regained her usual expression of finely tuned boredom, while taking another fraction of a second to assess the situation before smiling at the valkyrja with agreement.

“Yes, this tavern looks nice” she said “very -what’s that foreign word- picturesque”

They seated themselves at the table, so that they had a good view of the street and the never-ending procession of celebrating elves. Flynn, not being sure whether they should go in and order something, or rather sit and wait for a waiter, tried to compromise by loudly whistling an old folk tune, who’s words made it an excellent choice for whistling, hoping that this would attract the attention of anyone willing to serve them.

Being a well educated young man, Prince Edmond recognized the song almost at once, and eager to divert his attention, he turned his interest towards their new companion.

“So, Trine” he said “How is it in… where you come from? Elkwood, as you’ve probably guessed, is mostly just trees and occasional animals. I guess your home is a lot more interesting”

Seeeeeeeee.......I told you, he's got his eyes on you.....Every chance he's got, he talks to you......It's the Norseman in him, under all that stupidity thats been trained into him, he's a berserker waiting to get out....you mark my words.....

OH FOR GOODNESS SAKE! WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THAT YAMMERING BEAK OF YOURS!

"Our nation is natural and relatively untouched, we have no industry other than that which can be harnessed from Nature and are relatively self sufficient. What we cannot provide for ourselves, we aquire from nations within our region, through barter mainly."

Look! He's hanging on your every word.....he's almost drooooooling.....
Quoth uttered a mocking caw, which almost sounded like a dirty laugh as he winked at Edmund.
Go on me lad, she's one of our finest she is! Ripe for th.........
His sentence interupted by Trines elbow as she nudged him hard enough to knock him off the arm of the chair he had settled himself on, Quoth flumps to the floor.

"OOps, sorry Quoth, I forgot you were there for a moment, you were being so quiet!"
Now bugger off before I DO send you home!

Indignantly, the raven ruffles his feathers back into place and begins to waddle off through the chairs.
Alright.....I get the message, you two want to be left alone.....wouldn't want to be 'corvid in the middle'.......I'm off to find something shiny to aquire.....errrrrrrrr.....admire.....

Trine glares after the bird for a moment, then when he is out of sight, she returns her attentions back to Edmund.
"Where were we? Oh yes, we trade with others in the region for the things, mostly technology that we need, so all in all we are quite a contented and happy nation. In the end, Odin will always see that his children are provided for."

She spots a waiter, carrying a tray of food and drink high over his head to avoid the cowded tables and beckons to him.
Acknowledging her as 'next' he carries on weeving his way through.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh.... At last! Hopefully we can get served now. What are we all having then? I have heard that this nation is renouned for it's food and drink."

Aelosia, at the edge of the table, watched with interest as a raven sauntered across the floor, occasionally dodging out of the way of revellers, and revelling servants. She smiled a little, and leant down, extending her gold-garbed arm down towards the bird, showing off a dazzling array of rings, ranging from a plain gold band on her index finger to a silver ring that bore in lapis lazuli and many semi-precious stones the circular device of Lúthien Tinúviel, her grandmother. The hand held a fairly small piece of pork taken from her platter. The elf pursed her lips and let out a soft and, surprisingly birdlike call, imitating one of the more common raven calls, a staccato tock-tock-tock.

AHA!.......There you are my pretty and trying to lure me with a morsal........well......I'll play along......ooooooooooooooooooooo.....thats a very pretty ring.........

Quoth makes a bee line for the bejewelled Elf and with his sweetest and most beguiling look on his face he looks adoringly at her, then delicately picks the meat from her fingers......Taking time to evaluate her rings as he does so.

Hmmmmmmmmm...........very very nice.............

“You know” Flynn said as he contemplated the evening’s first drink “I once had a drink that cost about as much as four fully trained war horses, and a rather fancy chariot for them to pull you around in, you know, whit a frame of tough, light wood and maybe some iron knife things on the wheels if you’re into that sort of thing…”

He paused, thoughtfully squeezing a cherry that had been drifting around near the periphery of the glass.

“Anyway, the drink’s made of the pistil’s of a flower only growing on a mountain in the middle of the desert… you had to order it two months in advance, see, ‘cause there’s only a really small amount of juice in every pistil, and then the stuff has to lie in moonshine in an oak barrel fore some nights, maturing, sort of…”

Lady Annabelle smiled helplessly at Trine.

“He tells this story every time he finds something exciting to drink. Funny thing is, the price gets higher every time…”

“That” Flynn said “is because of the inflatation… inflation, I mean. Very complicated things, economics. Of course, economy isn’t really a science, if it was, it would be called ecology, right? That’s outlandish for, umm, ‘self-reflecting studies’, probably…”

Trine elbow on table and chin cupped in her hand looked as though she was hanging on every word that Sir Flynn uttered.
Only the quick wink and barely precievable smile at the corners of her lips told Lady Annabelle that she was not taking him seriously.
However, when she spoke, the tone of her voice made her words sound so sincere, that any would be hard put to realise that she was pulling the old man's leg.....

"Really Sir Flynn? You have seen war horses pulling a chariot?
A mighty chariot it must have been, larger than Odin's I believe and he only has goats to pull his........
When did you see this amaizing sight? Was it before or after this drink of a thousand flowers?"

It wasn’t that Sir Flynn was stupid. Far from it, it was just that, from a certain perspective, his thinking process reminded one far more of a roller-coaster ride than a train of thought; in its eagerness to go everywhere, it appeared to be moving more in circles than anything else, and although it was often very exciting for the person going with it (Flynn), it merely looked tedious when viewed from the outside.

Also it had a tendency to make people sick after a while.

However, Flynn wasn’t stupid (if only so because there were no applicable standards of intelligence whereby he might be judged), and thus he noticed, despite Trine’s apparent sincerity, that she perhaps wasn’t entirely serious. Whereby he, being Sir Flynn after all, concluded that they were now involved in the telling of some complex, hilariously funny, private joke.

“Yes” he said after a moment’s thoughtful savouring of the drink in front of him “I rather think I have. They used to pull the sun around in a chariot; you know… in the olden days, before they noticed that it was just another ball of gas orbiting the earth. It’s a little sad, really, all those old sun gods being unemployed, I mean, having pulled our nearest star around in one vehicle or another for some millennia, now you’re suddenly faced with the cold and unfriendly climate of today’s economy… err, ecology.”

Then he added, in a sudden surge of clearness “I’m not sure where I’m getting with this."

"Oh I wouldn't worry about it my dear."

Trine smiled at the 'older man'.

"It's all very interesting conversation and as for the Gods and Goddess' pulling the sun around?
Well, it was all an elaborate joke on their part. They just put the story about for mortals to be in awe of, they are very cruel sometimes y'know?
Believe me, it gets rather tedious being imortal, been there, done that, another day/year/century."

She sighed and took a long drink.

"It gets rather frustrating sitting around waiting for nature to take it's course and chuck out a new species, or evolve an old one into something new, or give man the brain power to think past a stick and onto some new tool."

She idly toys with her glass for a moment.

"And it's always the nice stuff that gets forgotten as well.....I remember the times when things like this festival was a common occurance. We'd hardly have time to fit it all in.
Gathering souls at night, home for breakfast, morning celebrations somewhere or other, Pagan ritaul here, witch burning there, back home in time to serve at table and a pinch of the bum from Odin and then off to another battlefield for the night time pickings before Hel's lot got to the good ones........"

She laughs.

"And see Sir Flynn? You aren't the only one who can meander through a conversation and forget the starting point!"

The pillar of light faded quickly and her body felt warm with a surge of energy and adrenaline. Lowing her arms slowly as she felt the final wave of warmth crash over her body. She felt almost lucid as her back pulsated heat from a long shallow cut that had formed along her shoulder blade, nothing particular painful or life threatening. Magic in Turnomess Vor Odessa, magic didn’t drain of you energy, or consume a well of your spirit it simply inflicted a physical injury, which depending on the strength of the spell could range anywhere from a nick on the arm to death, there were few trained in spelled capable of killing both the offender and the caster.

Tidyl and another priestess walked briskly over to Elenya and lead her off the top of the temple down to her chambers. With great haste she stripped off her silk garb, which had a small stain of blood from her wound on the back, and tossed them onto her bed as Tidyl followed closely behind her.

“High Priestess you should rest for a bit, I can tend to our guests for a bit,” Tidyl said as she lead Elenya towards the bath and grabbed a comb from the near-by table. Carefully she began to brush the High Priestess’ hair as they waited for the tub to fill.

Elenya sighed placidly; she loved it when Tidyl would play with her hair, like they used to do all the time when they were younger. “mmmm a bath does sound good… if only for a little bit. It’s my duty as High Priestess to make sure our guests is well cared for, not yours Tidyl…”

Slowly Elenya slipped into the warm water, closing her eyes and relaxing tidyl stood and left the high priestess to relax while, she changed out of her formal armor into something more appropriate for the remainder of the festival.

~/discontinuity/~

If one hadn’t taken a careful glance they would have never been able to tell it was Tidyl, for starters she was no longer in her heavy formal armor that she loathed to wear, her long black hair done up in a fancy bun and a long red dress that did a good job of showing off her figure, it also became apparent that her body from the neck down was covered with intricate tribal tattoo that wrapped around her body, she like many other elves had such markings since birth. A sign of the goddess’ lifting of the curse she once laid down on their ancestors many generations ago.

Alassë had spent most of the night dancing with friends and strangers alike, word was spread among the priestesses that more guests from the Ctan and when they say either the High Priestess or Tidyl to relay the message and tell them that transportation had already been sent to pick them up, having quickly made her way up the High guard she relayed the message as quickly as possible, eager to get back to the celebrations at hand.

“Thank you priestess, would happen to know where the guests are currently?” Tidyl asked looking across the sea of dancing figures and other eating in celebration.

“Their over there Tidyl” Alassë pointed as she impatiently made her way down the grand stairs to rejoin the others.

Tidyl quickly made her way through the crowds of dancing elf kin and others, which was not a particularly easy task to the group of foreign guests. “ I hope you are all enjoying yourselves, My Name is Tidyl Varyr, the High Priestess’ guard. The High Priestess will be joining us shortly, should you have any questions or require anything I would be happy to serve you”.

(OOC:sorry for the wait, the forums would being a real twat.)

”You’re probably right” Prince Edmond said “these aren’t very interesting times we live in.”

He sighed.

“Not that I’ve had the pleasure to live anywhere, or anywhen else, but well… things just aren’t very exciting nowadays. Sir Ellsworth sometimes tells me about the earliest history, when gods and giants still walked the earth and, as you said, Flynn; the sun was not just a cold, dead ball of rock reflecting moonlight upon the world. Even when my father was young you could still see dragons in the woods once in a while. These days I’d be happy to see a badger.

“Badgers are nice” Sir Flynn said, his mind returning from a pleasant visit to Somewhere Else.

“Anyway, I think that was exactly my point, thanks for finding it, Ed. It’s like we have this” he made a wide circle with his left hand “this parallel dimension just around the corner where things are, well, richer, more real.
You notice how things just get more polarized these days, Good and Evil, Order and Chaos, Ying and Young (we used to have this company in Elkwood importing tea called Ying & Young, sure beats me how they came to stand for the Eternal Dualism of Cosmos), the Thin Guy and the Fat Guy?
You know, those fancy thinking machines they use in some parts of the world apparently think entirely in ones and zeroes. Could you imagine that, having your consciousness, your soul if you like, broken down into millions of tiny fragments of absolute yes and no?
Where are the nuances? Where’s the complexity? Where’s --- ah, there’s my glass, thank you Annabelle…”


((OOC: sorry for not writing earlier, and sorry for the apparent confusion of this post (as compared to all my others), lack of sleep does wonderful things to the human mind))

"Oh I know of places where dragons may still be found Edmond and werewolves and all manner of mystical creatures, you just know where to look nowadays. You must come and visit us in my homelands sometime in the future"

She looks at the assembled group.

"You would all be most welcome indeed."

Smiling and nodding she listens with an ever widening grin on her face as "dear old Flynn" as she now thinks of him, waxes lyrical about 'computors'. She has to agree with him.

"Yes you are so right, where is the soul? Many bare there's to these machines, yet there is nothing from them in return."

For a moment Edmond was silent, the utter absence of thoughtful expression on his face clearly showed that he was thinking, and not just appearing to do so. His consideration was not so much about whether to accept Trine’s invitation or not, but rather an (as it seemed, futile) attempt to decide if it was just general pleasantries, empty politeness not meant to be taken as anything else, or an actual invitation, and if so, how to accept it properly.

He settled for “that would be nice”.

“It would” he continued “be an excellent opportunity for both our countries. A chance to broaden our minds, strengthen our diplomatic relations, maybe even the beginning of a new era of prosperity, abundance….”. Halfway through “love, happiness and companionship” he realized how stupid he sounded.

“It would be nice. Really” he concluded.

“Indeed” Lady Annabelle said “Seeing your country would truly be an experience. You’re welcome to Elkwood at any time as well, of course”

Flynn, meanwhile, seemed to have run out of things to talk about and thus contented himself to sit silent on his chair, radiating that special form of love towards the whole universe that one can only feel when being slightly disconnected from it.

The black haired elf looked down at the large black bird as he ate beside her, and leaned forwards onto the table, “So,” she said, after a moment, leaning forwards to see past her own husband, looking at the Elenaran, “What motivated you to make ravens the national animal anyway?”

He drew his gaze back, outwardly, from the dancers to turn to Aelosia, “Well,” he said, “it wasn’t actually me, but they were chosen because they evidence some wonderful traits, most notably, intelligence and adaptability.”

As he continued to elaborate on the virtues of corvids in general and ravens in particular, Sirithil cast her spectacular crimson gaze over towards Tidyl, smiling knowingly at the other elf as she continued, with typical invulnerability, to go through the local wine list looking for something that took her fancy, seeming no more inebriated than she had been when she had arrived despite the large quantities of alcohol she’d clearly consumed. It was after all, a trivial exercise in power to suppress the effects of something as simple as alcohol. The few guards behind the table gave Tidyl a brief look, and decided that she wasn’t likely to cause any trouble.

Meanwhile, Aelosia’s gaze finally drifted back to Quoth, “So,” she said, “Do you speak?”

It wasn’t as incongruous a question as one might think. Ravens as a species, were generally supreme mimics of human voices, with the best examples having greater vocabularies than African Grey parrots. Added to that, like the Great Eagles that lived in Menelmacar (they had their own king, and considered themselves Sovereign, after all) ‘The C’tan’ had a large population of Ravens with human intelligence…