NationStates Jolt Archive

CITY OF NEW HOPE, PDSRA

An Ngo walked slowly through the large grounds of the Exhibition Centre, a faint but proud smile on her lips. It had taken months of organisation to get everything ready, but now the Exhibition was finally about to open. Huge tents scattered through the peaceful grounds and gardens just outside New Hope were already filled with cultural exhibits from various nations, tended by enthusiastic specialists eager to present them to the world. Outside, the flags of all participating countries lined the street.

Just beyond the grounds lay the thick forests which stretched, undisturbed, over most of Ariddia. Peaceful, immense and untouched, they conferred, she felt, a sense of solemnity to the event. Not that it shouldn’t be fun, she reminded herself, as she neared the Ariddian tent. She had been the one to oversee both the Exhibition itself and Ariddia’s contribution to it.

And tomorrow, the Minister of Culture will be here to officially open it.

She walked into the Ariddian tent, wanting to make sure one last time that everything was ready. And then I’ll go and see what the other delegations are doing… she told herself, with just a hint of excitement.


OOC: OOC thread here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=452866)

Daniel, with the help of his cousin Iliana Etain, were making the last finishing touches to their exibit. They weren't the only ones working it, but probably the only ones that like perfection when it came to something like this.

When the Queen had heard about the exibit she wasn't the only one who thought this would be a great way for Rastaban to reach out to other countries to connect. They were a large nation but few outside of their region new the exsisted. And she could only think of one person to entrust such a thing: her family. She choose her dearest brother and cousin.

A chirp from one of the draches made him snap out of his thoughts. Iliana qickly fed it bits of meat to quiet it. The miniture like dragon creature was one of a few native animals they could bring. Other were just to large. Thankfully it belong to Iliana and would listen to her and behave.

"Think that's it?" Iliana asked and she sratched under the chin of the little orange creature. "Or shall we move that table there just a tad?" She joked.

"No, I think that's it. I hope. Just put out a little bit more tourist guides to Rastaban and then I think we call it for right now."

Iliana did as she was told. Another drache, a green one this time, squaked at the purple next to it so Daniel quickly went over to move the two cages further apart. He did not want to see any fighting fearing, no doubt, that it would look bad.

Breep, breep! Finch's phone rang. He tapped the button on his ear to answer it, because, of course, that was where the hearing mechanism was. The speaking mechanism was implanted into one of his back molars.

"Hello, who is this?" Finch said...

"Ah, Executive, it is good to hear a familiar voice in this barbarous country."...

"The SW's are setting up the tent now"...

The SW's (Standard Workers) were indeed pitching the tent, which was larger yet less colorfull than any of the other ones. Indeed, the only adornmant it had on it was the big, red words "Kablakhul Primary Coorporation"

"Yes, the hoarding dragon is in it's cage; that was our first priority. Everything is running efficiently." Efficiently. The second greatest virtue in Kablakhulite culture next to, of course, profitablility.

When the Cheif CEO of KPC had heard of this convention, he had decided that it would be an exellent opprotunity to advertize (oops, he means educate) foreigners on some of Kablakhul's more profitable (oops again; he means rich and cultured) aspects of society. Namely; what to buy from it. Of course it would not seem that way to visiters.

Maital Berkman was waiting impatiently by the Danaan tents. She tapped one booted foot on the ground as she looked out over the fair grounds. She barely knew anything about the country she was in, only that her government had accepted an invitation to showcase their culture. So far, everyone had been fairly pleasant, but she had seen no evidence of involvement from any of the nations with which she was familiar. Where were the major powers of the modern world?

An Ngo walked slowly through the Ariddian tent, nodding appreciatively at the various sections of the exhibition. A large part was focused on Indigenous culture, with a short presentation of Wymgani history, and live, lively yet solemn demonstrations of Wymgani traditions, art and beliefs. Another section dealt with Ariddian literature, and there were screenings of Ariddian films, including Abel Moeaki’s Daybreak. A more “entertaining” section was devoted to the various uses of grapefruits in Ariddia, with demonstrations visitors would be able to take part in.

She smiled and exchanged a few words with those bringing the finishing touches here and there, then stepped back outside. Foreign representatives were bustling about in the warm, slightly moist morning air. Ngo frowned faintly as she saw the wording on the Kablakhul tent, but then, every delegation was free to organise their culture exhibits as they saw fit. She walked out onto the path and over to the Rastaban tent, and poked her head inside, with a friendly smile in greeting.

“Hello!” she said pleasantly. “Ready for your first visitors soon?”

(OOC: Sorry for the delay. Work. Yay. :-|)

Iliana jumped and looked at the woman. "Ready?" she said, quickly recovering.

Daniel smiled and looked ever so poised. Iliana would always envy that of him. He never looked put-off or taken aback.

"Yes, m'lady, I do believe we are." He bowed to her. "I don't know if we have been introduced, but I am Daniel, and its a pleasure to meet."

The Knootian tent (large and in flashy colours) was fairly food-oriented, featuring tantalizing traditional Knootian fried foods such as croquettes, bitterballen, and oliebollen. Because of this, the pregnant smell of cheap fried products drifted slowly into the tents downwind. A sign next to a fish stand inside the tent dared visitors to tip back their head and swallow a raw decapitated herring like a true Knootian, the taste of which could be washed down with some excellent beer.

Featuring most prominently in the very centre of the tent was a counter where one could buy souvenirs - from klompen (wooden shoes) to cheese, and deluxe Pink Bunny Cola glasses. Cultural exhibitions were arranged around the souvenir stand; an exposee on Golden Age paintings, a maquette of the Delta works symbolising the struggle against the sea, a stand with various works of literature, a cultural diversity stand (manned by very pretty and commercially savy Elvish ladies) and a cardboard "maze" with facts and figures about the Dutch Democratic Republic.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Daniel," An replied, with a friendly smile. A slim Oriental woman in her late thirties, she was dressed in a suit which seemed neither casual nor excessively formal. "And you, ma'am. I'm An Ngo." She held out her hand. "I'm... well, in charge around here. Both of the Exhibition in general, and the Ariddian tent." Her gaze travelled quickly round the front part of the Rastaban exhibition. She noticed the strange, winged, reptilian creatures nearby, and tilted her head. "What are those?" she asked curiously.


OOC: Within a day or two, I'll write the Secretary for Culture opening the Exhibition, and you can have visitors flocking in. ;)

OOC: Wow, it seems like every other nation has a dragon on exhibit.

OOC: Wow, it seems like every other nation has a dragon on exhibit.

OOC: They must breed like rabbits!

IC:
Iliana smiled and reddish tint reached her cheeks. "Forgive me, I'm Iliana Etain. I'm just . . . just new at this sort of thing." She wanted to die and crawl under the table, never to be seen again.

"Ariddian? That will have to my first stop then," Daniel said, smiling at An Ngo. I must commend you and such a work and effort for this event." He was going to continue when An Ngo spotted the draches.

"What are those?" she asked curiously.

"Those are draches, the miniature cousins to the very large dragons that inhabit Rastaban," he explained. "They come in white, black, red, orange, green and purple. Unfortunately we were only able to bring an orange, purple and green. They make smart and intelligent pets, but are also very loving and loyal. Would you like to see one up close, Ms. Ngo?"

"Draches..." An repeated. "I thought creatures like that only existed in fairy tales! Yes, please; I'd love to see one up close." She smiled, looking from Daniel to the nearest small, winged animal.


= = =

Iu Al'e, Ariddian Secretary for Culture, looked round the grassy setting of the Exhibition, a smile on his face despite the very slight rain. The thick forests looming all around seemed even more pristine and majestic in the drizzle and greying skies. Representatives of the various participating nations had gathered round outside, while others remained in the shelter of their respective tents.

"Ladies, gentlemen. I'll keep this brief. The first visitors to the Exhibition will be arriving in just under two hours, and I'm sure some of you have last minute preparations to make. So, I'll simply wish you all to learn a lot from one another, and to enjoy your stay in Ariddia. And, in time-honoured tradition... I hereby declare this Exhibition, the First International Cultural Exhibition, open!"

And, in time-honoured tradition... I hereby declare this Exhibition, the First International Cultural Exhibition, open!"
Finch thought that it was kind of weird that the opening ceremony of the First International Culture Exhibition was a time-honoured tradition, but then he had to be tolerant of other cultures.

Greger slowly walked the grounds, looking at the exhibitions undergoing their final touches. He ran a hand through short grey hair and sighed unsure what to do. The powers that be in the newly formed North Fenris had decided to send out ambassadors to create relations with other territories.

Then the smell of fried food hit his nostrils. He smiled and began to follow his nose to the source.

Boldur stood smiling at the opening of the tent to the Cadby exhibit. Being the assistant to the Deputy Director of Culture had its small blessings, Boldur thought to himself. Instead of sitting in an office back home, he was here surrounded by new and different people and things. Turning, he looked back into the tent. His eyes swept across the displays. Although a young country he felt pride swell up inside himself as he looked at the display of historical tapastrys which told the story of his country. The display of leather clothing and goods made from the cattle his country was justly famous for raising, were second to none. The smell of beef being prepared in the traditional way was mouth watering. "yes, Boldur thought, there is much to be seen and learned here".

Sébastien Dru was a young medical student, who had arrived in Cité-Belle to study only a few months ago. The whole city had been talking of the Exhibition taking place on its outskirts, and he had decided to visit it on its opening day.

There was quite a crowd milling about on the faintly damp grass, and many of them, he thought, did not look Ariddian. In terms of ethnicity it was hard to tell, of course, but they were dressed like tourists, to his eyes at least.

He walked slowly, taking the time to peer into every tent and wander into most. He had spotted a fairly large tent, a little dull-looking but adorned with big red letters advertising it as that of the Kablakhul Primary Coorporation. Sébastien assumed it was actually that of Kablakhul as a whole, sponsorised perhaps by the corporation. He knew what sponsors were, although the concept was utterly absent from Ariddia. A strange, foreign custom...

Well, that's what I'm here to learn about, he reminded himself, and began walking purposefully over to the tent.

The fist visitor approached the Kablakhul exhibit. Finch examined the fellow. Though clearly younger than Finch, the visitor's rank in society was completely unknown, so Finch would be cautious.

Should I call him lad? Finch wondered, but then realized No, he may be a higher rank than me. Perhaps, since I don't know his rank, "sir?" No, because he still may be below me. "Fellowcreature." Yes that's the right term, "Fellowcreature." Should do until I find out his rank and name.

"Ahh, hello my fellowcreature! How are you?" Finch greeted.

The Danaan tent was a rather large affair, done in green and gold, the national colors. On the walls of the tents were lovely landscape paintings showing the many parts of the Resurgent Dream, here the misty crags of Shieldcrest, there the pristine beaches of Pele.

On one large table were a number of cultural artifacts, ancient swords, wooden drums and oars from the indiginous culture, fine porcelain figures, as well as written and photographic exhibits on the nation's landscape, history, and culture.

Outside the tent was chained a large gryffon, slowly looking at the passerbye in an almost lazy fashion, its beak opening every now again in a yawn. Every few minutes, one of the exhibit staff would come outside the gently pet the creature and tell him how good and patient he was being.

Sébastien blinked.

My fellow creature? It seems as if I've stumbled across an example of cultural difference already...

"I'm... fine, thank you," he said, somewhat cautiously, and glanced past him. "May I look around?" he asked politely.

The air outside bore the scent of cooking. Some of it was appetising, but some had the unfamiliar stench of cooked flesh. Although importing meat into Ariddia was, under normal circumstances, strictly forbidden, he had heard an exception had been made for participants in this Exhibition. He wondered whether any of the cooking was coming from this tent, and what cultural wonders might lie within.

"Ohh blast,....darn...." Tossing off her high heels, Miranda Possal hurried around the tent as her delegation struggled to get their presentation together after they had arrived late. As the Minister of Cultural affairs it was partially her responsibility to ensure this was a success; as if the Minister of Foreign relations, her counterpart on this task, cared about anything less than hobnobbing at fancy parties.

"Please assure them that the creatures are perfectly harmless and are an essential part of our display." She said as calmly as she could into the headset she wore. They seemed to be having a terrible time getting the dozen or so liquid Mongoose's cleared through customs, their national animal always seemed to gather a large amount of suspicion and curiosity do to its unique nature. It was always one of the biggest attractions, doing tricks and intriguing everyone who saw them. "Yes I will hold."

The flamboyant tent displayed the general carefree nature of Crescent Whales, full of colors, it shook in the wind; rippling with glee. Minstrel music filtered up through the air with the smell of roasting meat, two backbones of their culture. The people of Crescent Whales seemed to live in bliss, with a marriage of old world political hierarchy combined with new world ingenuity, fiscal sense, and technology.

Other than the trouble with the animals the Whalian delegation were pleased with the effort of their small nation. There was plenty of historical information in the holo library they had set up, mostly vids of the Duke Horatio I in combat. There was also cuisine and rich delicacies which they had really hoped would take off so that they may increase exports.

Lord Leo Laveron, the provincial governor of Vershion, inspected the entire display with great care. The Grand Duke Horatio II had personally instructed him to ensure they put on a good show at this exhibition. Finally satisfied he made his way from their small corner in one of the outlying parts of the exhibition, to browse some of the other nations.

The only other provincial governor that had made the trip so far was Lord Britoni VII, who sat back in a plush cushion generally disinterested with the whole affair. It would suit him to sit there the whole time in their famous cushion chairs and smoke cigars and talk with other important delegates of the goings on in the world. He picked up a Maillig (one of the nine provinces of Crescent Whales) made cigar and lit it, its taste of fresh water satisfied his taste buds. Cigars where the main product of Crescent Whales with each province creating their own type of cigar with a unique flavor and effect.

Sébastien blinked.

My fellow creature? It seems as if I've stumbled across an example of cultural difference already...

"I'm... fine, thank you," he said, somewhat cautiously, and glanced past him. "May I look around?" he asked politely.

The air outside bore the scent of cooking. Some of it was appetising, but some had the unfamiliar stench of cooked flesh. Although importing meat into Ariddia was, under normal circumstances, strictly forbidden, he had heard an exception had been made for participants in this Exhibition. He wondered whether any of the cooking was coming from this tent, and what cultural wonders might lie within.
OOC: Is Sebastian wearing a watch or any kind of shiney apparel? Seriously, it is important.

IC:"Of couse you can look inside,"Finch said," That's what it's there for."

Boldur stepped to the inside of the blue and white stripped Cadby tent and motioned to a slight balding man dressed in a red leather vest." Farthis, have the musicians start playing and take charge while I out looking around."As Boldur prepared himself a sandwich of Cadby beef smothered in pepper and mustard he listened to the trio of tambourine, hand drum and mandolin musicians begin playing "No Moon Tonight" a traditional song of Cadby herdsmen. As Boldur left the tent he saw a few people stare at him. At first he thought he may have dropped mustard down his shirt. It then became apparent to him that they were stareing at his sandwich.Hoping he wasn't creating to much of a social gaff, Boldur quickly bolted the sandwich down as he walked along, looking at the other tents.

There was a crashing sound from the far side of the exhibition, as a bulky Charr smashed into a pile of pots and pans, scattering them across the ground around their tent. The large beast was dodging an attack from a creature that he and another Charr were currently wrestling with. An enormous insect, nearly half their size, stood between the two beasts, hissing at them menacingly. It looked like a scorpion in many ways, except for its light brown colour and the lack of pincers. Its stinger was present though, dripping with a deadly poison. That was the reason for the Charr's accident; he was dodging the stinger as the insect jabbed it towards him.

As the stinger retracted, the Charr behind grabbed it in his clawed hand and yanked it backwards, pulling the insect off of its six legs violently. The Charr in front regained his balance and firmly planted one of his large feet on the insect's 'head', careful to avoid the vicious-looking teeth that kept snapping at him. He then bent down and smashed his fist into the top of the insect so hard that it suddenly became quite docile. Seizing the opportunity, they dragged the stunned animal backwards and put it into the empty cage it had originally escaped from. Its stinger was tied back to one of the bars, essentially rendering it harmless once again.

"Keep that Devourer in its cage from now on!" roared Jaw Smokeskin, in their incomprehensible language of roars, growls, and grunts. "If it escapes again, then you shall be its next meal!"

"Sorry sir," the other Charr grumbled.

"Take that cage inside," Smokeskin grumbled, waving his hand in dismissal. "Then quickly take the second one in. Fireclaw wants it to start cooking. And hurry up with that dunelizard!"

"Yes sir," the Charr said, and began to wheel the large cage into the tent. Behind them were two additional cages; one of them contained another insect, while the other one contained a large reptile of some kind. The second insect would shortly be killed and roasted, though the lizard would join the first Devourer as a display piece.

Outside the entrance to the large rawhide tent there was a statue. It was made from a strange black rock, and formed the shape of some kind of fearsome creature. Even the statue was enough to make one shudder with fear. The statue was burning, however. The entire sculpture was consumed by flames, reaching upwards. The flames were a peculiar bright red colour, and did not appear to burn anything but the statue. As Smokeskin passed the statue, which was the same height as he, he bowed his head solemnly and grunted something quietly. After a few moments he turned and entered the tent.

Inside were all sorts of things. Illumination was provided by candles, which hung from the wooden supports above in glass lanterns. Several large wooden tables lined the sides of the tent. One of the most interesting displays consisted of enormous bladed weapons, each one intricately designed and far too heavy for a human to effectively weild. Some of them showed signs of use, and one even had blood stains from some unknown animal.

Another table was home to the skulls of an assortment of bizarre animals, unique to the Charr homeland of Tyria. Several bleached Devourer 'heads', an unusually large dunelizard skull, and several other skulls which couldn't be identified. The hides of the creatures formed a table cloth, which was a patchwork of colour and texture.

The table beside it contained several tomes and old parchments. Each one had strange writing on it; the bizarre symbolic language of the Charr. The writing was impossible to read, but from the looks of them the various texts appeared to be quite important. Of particular note was a replica of the ancient map of Tyria, which doubled as the Charr flag. It sat proudly at the centre of the table.

On the far side of the tent, Fireclaw stood beside a campfire, with culinary equipment lying all around him. As the second Devourer was wheeled in, he smashed his fist through it's head and began to prepare the freshly-killed creature to be roasted. Although it could hardly be called a rare delicacy, as the dangerous creatures were considered a common pest in Tyria, but roast Devourer meat was considered a good food and would be something new for these outsiders.

One of the Charr positioned the two remaining creatures beside the tent entrance, and began to arrange a table full of cultural artifacts nearby. Smokeskin occasionally barked orders at the two, but his work was more or less done for the moment.

OOC: Is Sebastian wearing a watch or any kind of shiney apparel? Seriously, it is important.


OOC: Yes, he's wearing a watch. A cheap one, but coated to have a slight metallic shine.

IC:
"Thank you." Sébastien nodded, and ventured inside. He frowned slightly. It seemed as if most of what was on display had mainly commercial rather than cultural value. But perhaps it's cultural for them, he reminded himself. We don't all define culture in the same way. Could this be what culture means in some capitalist countries?

"This is... very nice," he said cautiously, as he tried to understand what some of the items actually were. Other visitors had walked in, and were milling about, whispering amongst themselves.

Corrina Machuv tossed her shoulder-link raven hair slightly as she approached the Charr tent, looking around quietly at the many strange animals. She gave a nervous smile to the rather imposing Charr present. Corrina herself was tiny even for a human, standing only an inch or two over five feet tall. Her features were rather pretty by human standards, although that was not likely to be relevent to the beings in the tent. "What's that?" she asked in English, hoping they understood as she pointed at a particularly bizarre creature.
...
Latisha Margesson stepped out of the Danaan tent to stroke the large gryffon sitting just outside. "Hey, there, Cuddles. How are you holding up?" She smiled a little as she slipped a hand into her jeans pocket, pulling out a small treat which she handed to the huge creature.

Shaking her head as the several ton beast gently ate the treat right out of her hand, Latisha stepped back inside, wondering when the first visitors would be by.

The daylight was shining brightly, as shoppers,artists,cooks,and craftsmen mingled and mixed into the crowds of diplomats and various houses of nobility. From all over the venue the smells of exotic foods, and spices drifted on the wind,tingling the nose and causing more then one stomach to rumble.

Farlong had finally voted.Farlong would join this conference and show off its wares to the varying nations of the world.Soba pulled the tent straps back,tieing them down and moved the sign overhead to open.Then he turned back and went behind the counter to await the first passerby.The wait didn't take long, as at the opening of the straps, eyes shot in his direction, and people began to converge on the small domed tent.

Layed out for all were free samples from Farlongs best. Clothes hand sewn with furs and jewels,Only the best exotic cheeses, recipes handed down for thousands of generations, on display and free for all who would sample them. Tomes of lore and knowledge, on the history of Farlong and its people,government,and sciences numbered in the hundreds and were stacked in order among the vases,carvings,and paintings by some of Farlongs most famous and respected artists.

The denizens of the festival wove in and out of the tent all relishing in the free samples, and marveling at the "Weaves", great intricate rugs wove from the threads of the Oolian Spider who wove thier glowing silk only once in thier life, in beautiful and radiant designs before dieing.With a smile and a Courtesy that suprised many who chatted with him Soba took some time and let the people mill about the tent, and started his Codex (message) home.

Incoming Msg: To Offices of The Outter Order
"All is well I think the people of this world now know us, and the response so far is overwhelming. I think we have finally joined the world.The Divine be praised". - Soba - Farlong Magistrate of House Arman

The Callisdrunians arrived as evening began to set on. A runner was sent over to the Ariddian tent, with a note apologizing for their country's tardiness. Most of them were busy setting up the large Callisdrunian pavilion, which was black, almost navy blue, forest green and dark red.

Princess Bente herself, the daughter of the King, and next in line for the Iron Crown and Throne, was supervising, as well as doing some of the work herself.

The pavilion was up in no time. Runic symbols and designs that had meanings to Callisdrunians gave the great tent a dark, mysterious look. One whole section of the tent was a restaurant, which was set up just in time to cook venison and boar for visitors. Since Callisdrunians did not farm cattle, deer and boar provided most meat. The boar pork and the venison were cooked in ways that were vaguely familiar to foreigners, but at the same time, different. A large portion was dedicated to Callisdrun's famous pastries and chocolate deserts.

The people from Callisdrun probably looked very odd just by themselves, as all wore dark colors, their clothes fully modern, but at the same time, reminiscient of archaic clothes. After setting up the exhibit, they went to change out of their work clothes (although only Bente's last minute suggestion that they go inside to do so kept them from changing right out in the open). The clothes they then donned were elegant, and subtly suggested unapologetic sensuality. Most of the dresses, for example, while black, dark blue or red, were quite revealing, despite being, like all the clothing, very simple. One thing that would strike most observers as strange was that even in their elegant wear, the Callisdrunians insisted on wearing a one handed battle axe on a heavy belt, even the women in their lovely dresses. Another strange thing was the amount of tattooing and piercing most of them seemed to have, especialy the Moroii.

Even Princess Bente's garments were somewhat revealing, though simple, and after everything had been set up, she stood by the arched main entrance of the tent, two enormous Callisdrunian wolves by her side. Despite being as tall as a full grown deer, the wolves did not look aggressive, and seemed to be content in sitting and sniffing the air.

Bente hoped that the presence of Moroii (living vampires) would not put people off too much. Almost all Callisdrunians had pale skin, but the vampires were even paler, and there were several of them as part of the delegation. They also all had long fangs, barbed in the case of those from the Batory clan, and could not retract them. Two members of the Sorvik moroii clan, famous for their bright green eyes, were putting up the large iron Oak Tree emblem, above the entrance. It had been a great effort bringing everything here, especially the longship (OOC: basically a Viking style ship) that they had in the main tent, as part of the exhibit on Callisdrun's history.

Sebastian looked around the tent a little, not at all impressed by the swirly-jagger-bobs or the stimingatoralits. A few young guests were listening to a recording of a summed-up history of Kablakhul, told by a friendly-sounding male voice.

"Roughly four-hundred years ago, the area today known as Kablakhul was a primitive, rough wilderness. A few feudal lords ruled over small cities, but these were only pockets of civilization in a baron world. There, two extremeist religious clans came into existence-the Followers of Kabla and the Servents of Shyka.

As both cults grew, their interaction became inevitble. Both preached intolerance and closed-mindedness towards other faiths, but that was the only thing other than monotheism that they had in common. Obviously, they did not get along with each other very well. Three-hundred and sixty-seven years ago, the two groups' hatred of each other escalated in what became known as the Great Crusade of KablaShyka.

The two peoples fought across the small continent of Kablakhul. The Followers of Kabla thought that they had won when they razed the Shyka capital of Shykakhul, but they were mistaken. Three-hundred and sixty-five years ago, the Servents of Shyka launched a suprise cooperative attack against several Kabla strongholds.

The Followers of Kabla were driven northward towards the frozen wastes of the White Plains. There, the Followers of Kabla managed to slay the Servants' of Shyka high priest/general/king, Alekand. The Followers of Kabla took over the nation, naming it Kablakhul in honor of their god."

The recording went on to tell how the new Kablakhulites tamed the wilderness and advanced their society. A great plauge two-hundred and forty years ago was mentioned, as was a war with the neigboring Pretty Darn Evil Republic of Goldguy eighty-nine years ago. Great detail was spent describing the beginnings of mass production in Kablakhul and how it revolutionalized society about one-hundred years ago. A native Kablakhulite listener would be too optomistic to notice the way that this advancement commercialized Kablakhul, but any foreigner could tell.

The recording also described the "Great Light-Shining," in which Kablakhulites began to more critically study their nation's history about seventy years ago. Both the Great Crusade of KablaShyka and the Goldguy War were holy wars, and both had cost thousands of lives. The majority of the population realized that religion was too costly and abandoned worshiping Kabla. A native Kablakhulite would be too optomistic a listener, however, to understand how the atheism of Kablakhul allowed them to abandon a moral viewpoint of the what was happening around them as their society became more and more materialistic.

Meanwhile, a few great roars issued from behind a drape in the tent, and Sebastian and several other guests seemed curious about it.

Corrina Machuv tossed her shoulder-link raven hair slightly as she approached the Charr tent, looking around quietly at the many strange animals. She gave a nervous smile to the rather imposing Charr present. Corrina herself was tiny even for a human, standing only an inch or two over five feet tall. Her features were rather pretty by human standards, although that was not likely to be relevent to the beings in the tent. "What's that?" she asked in English, hoping they understood as she pointed at a particularly bizarre creature.

Jaw Smokeskin noticed the human wandering around the tent. He had still not quite become used to seeing the odd bald creatures wandering around freely, even after the Human Equality Act had been passed at home. This one was even smaller than most, and from what he knew of their kind, was a female. Which just made it even more difficult for him to deal with.

Though, unlike the humans at home, this one likely would not understand their dialect. And he certainly wouldn't understand theirs. Thus, he reached up with one of his clawed hands and pressed down on the black necklace that hung from his neck. A sophisticated translation device, designed specifically for these sorts of things. They were expensive, and it was impossible for anybody outside of the Council of Clans to order one, but they were useful.

As the human female spoke, her words were recorded by the translation device. Mere seconds afterwards, it regurgitated her words as a series of growls and grunts.

"That is a Devourer," Smokeskin growled in response, pointing at the enormous insect. He hit his fists against the bars of the cage, goading the creature. It hissed at him, and snapped its sideways-opening jaws. Its six legs scrambled against the smooth floor of the cage, but with its tail tied to the bars it got nowhere.

"Scurge of Tyria," he grunted. "Very aggressive, very deadly. If it were not in that cage, it would gladly devour the both of us. Hence its name. The one in the other cage is a dune lizard. They are comparatively docile, but no less deadly. Both of these creatures are respected for their strength by hunters, but they are certainly not the most challenging hunts in our lands. Unfortunately, the 'very' impressive beasts are infinitely too large and powerful to transport here. We would need an entire army of our most honoured warriors to hold some of the creatures that dwell in Tyria."

He added, with what seemed to be a grin, "Plus, they aren't as tasty as Devourers."

Shortly after he had finished speaking in his visceral language, the necklace he wore spoke his words in this human's language. Or at least, a decent approximation.

Corrina nodded as the Charr explained the different creatures to her, listening to his explanation and examining the deadly creatures on display. After a moment, the tiny woman turned her attention to the translation device itself. "Does that translate from every language?"
...
Claire Thompson wandered into the Callisdrunians' main tent, the largest of many. She was frankly amazed at area Callisdrub had set up, not just one tent but many to thoroughly display the variety of their national culture. She idly wondered if she might expect her own government to have one tent per principality next year. She grinned broadly when she saw the actual longship inside. Walking along the length of the vessel, she foundherself near Princess Bente, who she had no means of recognizing as anything but an exhibit worker, or at least no means she understood. "It's really impressive. Are ships like this still in common use in Callisdrun?" she asked curiously.

Claire was an average-sized young woman of African extraction, dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt, and a red jacket. She wore an easy-going smile and seemed genuinely interested in the various exhibits.

Corrina nodded as the Charr explained the different creatures to her, listening to his explanation and examining the deadly creatures on display. After a moment, the tiny woman turned her attention to the translation device itself. "Does that translate from every language?"

"No it does not," Smokeskin told her, looking down at the device for a second. He then looked back at her, giving her the strange, semi-confused expression he had worn the whole time. "There are some obscure dialects of Charrian that it cannot translate to, and a few of your more complicated languages. But it is programmed with most languages. I would prefer not to use it at all, but there is little change of my learning to speak any of your languages so it will have to suffice. I do not understand the inner-workings myself, as I am not a brainy, but it has something to do with miniature computers and voice recognition software."

***

Darthan Skullcrusher wandered around aimlessly between the tents, looking for anything of interest. He had accompanied the other three Charr to this place, but had no interest in putting their culture on display. He would much rather be doing other things, like hunting, or cavorting with his mates, but they would have to wait for another time.

His bulky frame rattled as he stomped along between the various exhibits. Blade weapons (a large one-handed axe, and an even larger sword) hanging from his loose belt clanged against each other with each step, and against the strange clothing he wore. Pieces of cut Devourer shell covered vulnerable parts of his furry body, and produced light tapping sounds each time his weapons bounced off them. Though not much use against modern weaponry, it was not intended to be -- it was more ceremonial than practical in nature. And it was resistant to Devourer stings and other animals, and even some blades, so it did have its uses. Why he felt the need to wear such protection whilst the other Charr accompanying him wore barely anything at all wasn't easy to tell.

He stopped beside a green and gold tent for a short while, peering into it curiously. He gave the creature outside an angry glance, not knowing whether it was aggressive or not, and stepped past it. Immediately, he went straight towards a table of swords and began to observe them intently, saying nothing.

OOC: Sorry, had a wedding to attend to out of state, thought I'd e back before now. :(

"Draches..." An repeated. "I thought creatures like that only existed in fairy tales! Yes, please; I'd love to see one up close." She smiled, looking from Daniel to the nearest small, winged animal.

"Oh, draches and dragons are hardly fairy tales to us Rastabites," Daniel said, smiling. "Would you mind, Iliana, bringing forth one of those adorable creatures?"

Iliana nodded going to get the little orange. Well, he wasn't so little, about the length of an average adults arm, but they were wel behaved creatures and loved to sit upon their companions shoulders, as the orange did by perching himself up Iliana's.

"His name is Tig. He loved to be scratched under the chin," Iliana explained. Tig, meanwhile tilted his head at the woman before him, his eyes had the same make-up of a human's eyes, save that his changed colors, currently shifting between blue and green. "Don't be afraid, he won't bite, unless you have food on your hand. You don't have food do you?"

Sébastien had found the rendering of Kablakhul's history far more interesting - both in the way it was told and for the facts themselves - than most of the commercial exhibits in the tent. It seemed that, in contrast to Ariddia, the increasing decline of religion in Kablakhul had strengthened capitalism rather than weakened it. He was no political sociologist, but it was an intriguing matter to ponder over...

He turned his head as a roar sounded from a seemingly closed off area, and he followed several other visitors over to it.

======


"His name is Tig. He loves to be scratched under the chin," Iliana explained. Tig, meanwhile tilted his head at the woman before him, his eyes had the same make-up of a human's eyes, save that his changed colors, currently shifting between blue and green. "Don't be afraid, he won't bite, unless you have food on your hand. You don't have food do you?"

An laughed.
"Not last I checked." She reached her hand out tentatively and scratched the creature gently below the chin, feeling its scaly head rub against her fingers. She grinned, and looked it in the eyes, startled and almost mesmerised by their appearance.

"Well, you'll certainly be getting a lot of attention with these. They're sweet as anything. And I've never seen eyes like those! What else have you got in here?"

"Yes, that was out master plan," Daniel joked. "Lure them in with the draches, then bang! You're ours!" he laughed and Iliana did too. Tig looked confused but turned his attention back to An.

"Well, we have interactive stations all over where people who have never been to Rastaban could get at least a taste for it," Iliana explained. "Just put the goggles on and you can find yourself walking through out capital of New Avalon and visit the various sites there. Others deal with walking among our forests and beaches. We take great pride in our enviroment. We also have a ride like thing that allows you to experience a flight upon dragon back with our queen."

"We also have more people coming who will show off Rastabites natural abilities. What some may term as magic else where. And others yet to give a sort of tour guide and answer questions that I don't even know the answers too."

"And you can't forget our food. We have some wonderful items such as our coka," Iliana continued. "I've heard people from other countries say its a blend of coffee and hot coco with just a hint of peppermint in it. To us its just coka. We also have these wonderful pastry specialties we brought. We simply call them sweet rolls. And those are just to name a few."

"I'm sure we're forgetting something, but I hope that gives you a good picture," Daniel said to An

The Errinundrian exhibit is hard to ignore.

MOYEMD, TEHMAMD and GADOHAYA tower proudly over their surrounds.

Each of the three sacred trees is 130 metres high, and 20 metres broad at the shoulder (human shoulder that is). In the Ariddian mist they appear as mighty yet benign sentinels forever brooding over the follies of the impatient creatures all around.

What care and skill the Errinundrians have displayed in transplanting and shipping these wonders here!

What devotion they have demonstrated in planting the impenetrable sassafras rainforest beneath the behemoths. Quite now! You may hear potoroos frolicking in the undergrowth.

At the southern end of the exhibit there is an entrance with a rope staircase disappearing into the mist towards the higher reaches of MOYEMD. Gippsland waratah, bathed in teeming, red spidery flowers, form an archway at the base of the steps.

But there is a jarring note.

Next to the waratah archway is a huge metal box with a large opening facing the approaching visitor. Close examination show the box covers a pit. On the metal beside the opening is a small sign that reads:

"Please leave meat, leather, guns & cars in bin provided."

As you begin the steep ascent you will pass a similar sign:

“Please bring police and military personnel no further. We would appreciate that you treat them kindly, however.”

The visitors looked quite curious about the roaring behind the curtain.

"Um, yes well," Finch said," If any of you have any shiny apparel on, especially necklaces and the like, please take them off now."

"Oh." Corrina said as Smokeskin explained. "It's still very fascinating and must be very useful."
...
The two women manning the Danaan tent allowed the Charr to look quietly, as that seemed to be his desire. The swords were in all styles and some had engravings of dragons, lions, or falcons. He might notice that about a fourth of the blades are too large for human use.

Claire Thompson wandered into the Callisdrunians' main tent, the largest of many. She was frankly amazed at area Callisdrub had set up, not just one tent but many to thoroughly display the variety of their national culture. She idly wondered if she might expect her own government to have one tent per principality next year. She grinned broadly when she saw the actual longship inside. Walking along the length of the vessel, she foundherself near Princess Bente, who she had no means of recognizing as anything but an exhibit worker, or at least no means she understood. "It's really impressive. Are ships like this still in common use in Callisdrun?" she asked curiously.

Claire was an average-sized young woman of African extraction, dressed casually in jeans, a t-shirt, and a red jacket. She wore an easy-going smile and seemed genuinely interested in the various exhibits.

Bente smiled at the the young woman's question. "Well, not in their original purpose, no. You see, they were originally the back bone of our navy, more than a thousand years ago, but would be quite outdated today, though many of our current navy ships bear gargoyles on the bow and stern as a way of you know, keeping tradition." She gestured and the fearsome looking carving on the bow. [OOC: here's a good example of what the longship looks like, but the Callisdrunian's one is a bit bigger: http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a296/bassistsartori/imageA.jpg]

"However, they are still sailed recreationally, and even raced competitively in our port cities. They no longer inspire terror when foreigners see them approaching on the horizon, though." At saying this last bit, Bente sounded almost... regretful. "There are many displays on Callisdrun's history nearby, in this main area," she said. "We did our best to minimize bias." It was a given that most foreigners, during the golden era of longship fleets, had not seen the Callisdrunians in a very positive light, as coastal raids and burning of monasteries was a very frequent occurance, and none of Callisdrun's neighbors had been able to pursue the attacking pagans when they retreated back into the waves.

Bente strode over to indicate where certain displays were. The enormous, yet content looking wolves followed. It was clear that they were extremely intelligent. Near the longship, there were smaller models of Callisdrun's navy and merchant ships going up through the present day. Though all looked perfectly functional, it was obvious that Callisdrunians designed and built ships with aesthetics as well as functionality in mind. "Here's the beginning of the display on shipping and such. An odd tidbit is that the name of our Navy actually translates most directly to 'The Unified Callisdrunian Longship Fleet,' which many think is somewhat odd, for whatever reason." She had quite an accent, though she was easy to understand, and it made her voice sound pretty. Near the other end of the ship, there was a large exhibit on the historical series of conflicts with Altar Rang, which of course, due to the value Callisdrunians placed on honesty, did not in any way attempt to gloss over the extreme brutality of the several wars. It might be said that there were no two peoples who hated each other more than Callisdrunians and Altar Rangians, and the display made the reasons quite clear. [OOC: more can be explained in a later post]

After pointing out all the various military history exhibits, Bente pointed to a door to a nearby pavilion. "That's the natural history exhibit. In it there is much information concerning the flora and fauna of our home." [OOC: more can be explained in another post] The fact that two huge wolves were following her around instead of being in said exhibit (where, to be honest, there were several others) did not concern the crown princess in the least, in fact, she patted one of the large grey canines on the head and scratched behind his ear as if that were a perfectly normal thing to do with a wolf.

The scene: an old man determinedly bends over a walking frame. His eyes stare ahead, dribble hangs from his chin and he mutters inaudible words. Despite his decrepitude he steadily progresses along the path. He has two deferential companions: one, possibly a nurse, wipes away the old man's drool from time to time; the other has a knowledgeable air. Whether deserved or not, who can tell?

chweel (the nurse): The music – that’s what’s attracting him.

stringp (political advisor): It sounds like it’s coming from the Cadby exhibition.

chweel: It’s beautiful.

stringp: Harmony for the soul.

oreadest (the old man): Depa…

chweel: I feel that I’m being transported to some other planet with wondrous sunrises, and soft, whispering winds.

The old man becomes restless. Perhaps he doesn’t like his companions gushing. But the music is ineffably serene.

oreadest: Depa…

The companions begin to notice something amiss.

stringp: What’s that smell?

chweel: Oh no! I hope his colostomy bag hasn’t come loose again.

They approach the Cadby pavilion. The old man now stops. He is clearly very distressed.

chweel (wiping first oreadest’s brow and then his own): Ugh! This is like nothing I’ve ever smelt.

stringp (nauseous): It’s coming from the Cadby tent! What is it?

oreadest: Burnt flesh.

chweel: How could they? And such wonderful music!

stringp (retching): We have to turn back.

"I'm sure we're forgetting something, but I hope that gives you a good picture," Daniel said to An

"It does indeed," An said, with a smile. "It all sounds fascinating." She walked inside the tent slowly, her gaze lingering on the various exhibits. She stopped in front of one of the interactive displays. "Incredible..." she murmured. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

She picked up a pair of goggles, and turned back to the two Rastabites.
"May I?"

She knew she should be getting back to the Ariddian tent soon, but for now there were others there who could welcome visitors in her place.


The visitors looked quite curious about the roaring behind the curtain.

"Um, yes well," Finch said," If any of you have any shiny apparel on, especially necklaces and the like, please take them off now."

Sébastien thought for a moment, then remembered his watch, and slipped it off. It was only a crude, simple watch, but it was coated in a glossy mock-silver. He put it in his pocket, while others took off watches and jewelry, some more elaborate than any he had ever seen. Clearly, there were quite a few foreigners present.

OOC:Kablakhul got deleted, and I am now posting with this puppet nation. I'm still going to act like Kablakhul, however.

IC:Finch pulled open the curtain. Behind it was a huge cage of tarnished metal. Inside the cage was a massive dragon-like creature with all black scales. Its fearsome basilisk-like mane was frilled up and streams of smoke poured from its nostrils. It also snored because it was asleep.

"This is a hoarding dragon," Finch explained, "They are native only to Kablakhul. Now, the reason you all had to hide your shinies is because these dragons are attracted to anything that glistens. The dragon would try to take your sparkley possesions if she saw them.

The hoarding dragon likes these so much because they cannot produce their own flame like their smaller cousins; they search for deposites of silicon to eat. When the silicon reaches their trachea, it goes into a special organ called a 'fire lung' which burns it when the dragon wants to breath fire. And since hoarding dragons rely so much on shining metal, they also incorperate it into their mating rituals.

They use to actually raid Kablakhulite cities looking for silicon. Humans then began to search them out and kill them-the dragons caused a lot of damage in their searches. Now very few remain, and most of those in captivity like this one."

OOC:Kablakhul got deleted, and I am now posting with this puppet nation. I'm still going to act like Kablakhul, however.

OOC: You can bring Kablakhul back to life, unless you did something against the rules with that nation. Just go to think link (http://www.nationstates.net/98808/page=help) & on the drop-down menu select "restore a deleted nation" and in the text box just put Kablakhul's name. That's it!

And Ariddia I hope you don't mind, but I slightly god-modded for the interactive goggles. If you do, I'll change it.

IC:
She picked up a pair of goggles, and turned back to the two Rastabites.
"May I?"

"Yes, please," Daniel said as she picked up the headset for the dragonride.

"Hello, Ngo An," said the virtual Queen Cora (ooc: for pic reference thing Natalie Portman with long straight hair) who was sitting upon a white scaly beast with An. "Glad you could join me today." In the background a soprano voice of a dragon could be heard. "And my white dragon, Etana, says she is glad to have you here too." The dragon's large head came into An's view and one large blue eye looked over her. "Shall we?" Cora said and with out further word the dragon took off. The goggles had slight access to An's senses and so she felt herself being launched into the air.

Within moments they were far above a city that looked rather ancient. "Below us is the city of New Avalon, our capital. To preserve it as much as possible we keep technology out if it as much as possible. No cars is our main ban. Electricity, running water and proper sewers are a must of course." Etana banked right and took them over more of the city. There were large areas dedicated to foliage. "Most of those aren't just gardens or parks, they are temples. We Rastabites believe in worshipping outside where the gods are rather than in stone buildings where they can't hear us. Our priest and priestesses however do live in the buildings you do see in middle of the trees."

Etana took them higher and above a grand complex. Part look like a private residence of someone very wealthy the other half looked like it was dedicated to military. "This is the Royal Palace Compound. The palace you see below you was much smaller when our first queen took the throne but over the years, as you can see, each queen has added on." Etana flew over the military part of the compound. "This is where the New Avalon Flight of the Dragon Air Force lives. As heir to the throne when I was younger I had the opportunity to have a chance to bond with one of these great beast. As you can see, I had to fortune of Etana in doing so. The white dragon is female and are among our dragon-kind regarded as queens themselves, so when I took the throne I became leader over the whole Dragon Air Force. Tradition, however, has dictated that the air force, since it's founding, would have land along side the royal palace."

A wing of dragons, numbering 50 dragons of various colors rose into the air just then. They took every turn and move together as if their minds were one. "Our dragons are also telepathic with their riders and a few select others, as well as each other, of course." Etana stopped from her hovering position and took a fly over the the surrounding area again, as well as the sea, which brought them near a flock of semi-large red birds with amazing plumage. "Those are our native phoenix. Rather amazing birds, most mythology on them is true, save that only one lives at a time." Below dolphin jumped and sounded as if they were trying to talk to people on a near by boat. "Our dolphins are also more than they eye sees. They are able to communicate with humans and are often best to go to when wondering what illness you have."

Etana turned back to the Compound. "I hope you don't mind, An," Cora said, "but Etana is telling me she is hungry and has decided to land us. But don't worry, my brother, Prince Daniel, has other wonderful little goggles to show you around Rastaban. And to get the actual sites and sounds may I suggest you visiting? In our region our beaches are rather hard to beat."

"...They use to actually raid Kablakhulite cities looking for silicon. Humans then began to search them out and kill them-the dragons caused a lot of damage in their searches. Now very few remain, and most of those in captivity like this one."

"How sad..." Sébastien said softly. "But fascinating..." He gazed at the dragon quietly for a long while, admiring it, though with a lingering sense of sadness. Then he looked over his shoulder. "Are there any natural parks in Kablakhul, where the dragons can move freely? Though I suppose it would be difficult to keep them within the confines of the park..."


Etana turned back to the Compound. "I hope you don't mind, An," Cora said, "but Etana is telling me she is hungry and has decided to land us. But don't worry, my brother, Prince Daniel, has other wonderful little goggles to show you around Rastaban. And to get the actual sites and sounds may I suggest you visiting? In our region our beaches are rather hard to beat."

An laughed, amazed, as she took off the goggles.

"That was... incredible! And I think I may just follow that advice, if I get funds from the government to take a holiday in Rastaban." She smiled, and set the goggles back down. "Anyway... I really should visit the other tents. And you have other visitors who need you. Thank you for all this; it was a... fascinating experience."

"There are a few national parks in Kablakhul, but dragons could not be kept there," Finch responded, "They are very territorial creatures, and one hoarding dragon's territory would cover an entire park and beyond. There has been an attempt to rekindle the spieces in the wild. The only part of Kablakhul that isn't heavily inhabited is the White Wastes. There is a rehablilitaion going on with dragons there. Unfortunatly, there is a reason that is is uninhabited: the place is nearly uninhabitable. Volcanic activity lets huge amounts of sulfuric acid into the air, and few organisms can live there."

Claire smiled with interest at the explanation from the woman whom she continued to believe to be merely some functionary from a cultural attache's office. "That's really cool. Have you ever been on one in the water?"

As she waited for Bente's answer, she looked over the various exhibits that had been pointed out to her, learning of the ancient Callisdrunian raids on foreign shores and the brutal wars against Altar Rang. While she had heard of Callisdrun before, she had not heard of Altar Rang. It bothered her when that happened. Of course, she didn't know much about the world outside her own country. She was just a tourist. But it was still troubling not to have heard of a whole nation with its teeming billions of inhabitants that was here portrayed as participating in epic and bloody wars.

Frowning to herself, Claire turned her attention to the wolves, looking the large creatures over with slight fear, or at least nervousness. Bente seemed fine being around them but they...well, they were wolves.

OOC: Assuming this is still open, if not lemme know and I'll leave

A giant green tent stood out amongst the thousands of tents. It's door finally came open, and out stepped a tall figure wearing a black cloak, that obscured her face. An eerie fog exited the tent from under the walls and out the door, and a strobe light flashed, creating errie effects on the fog. Several recordings overlapped each other, one of a machine gun on rapid fire in bursts, and the other of crickets and various other nighttime noises. Strands of cloth hung down from the ceiling. On the table as one entered the tent sat a black panther. Several displays have been set up throughout the tent. The displays showed pictures of various gadgets and scenery. One particular shot was taken in one of the many Nofian forests, The scene it depicted was of several trees that had been splattered in blood on a training excersize. Several of the pictures showed various bits of equipment and had a little plauque that said "Please ask the person on duty about these items." On the desk sat a stack of business cards, this is what they read:

The Mercenary State of Nation of Fortune
When nothing less than the best is expected

Kiley Nessa - Public Relations Detail
ozonemaker@nofian.com
(555)555-5555

Farthis watched as the trio started to wretch and turn to walk away. Thinking quickly he grabbed a bouquet of flowers and a stein from a table set beside the entrance. Moving swiftly Farthis positioned himself in front of the retreating group." Excuse me, my name is Farthis, I am the curator of the Cadby exhibition. I am aware that the smell of our native foods can be somewhat overpowering. So please except these as a gift from the people of Cadby. My Lady if you will smell the flowers, they give off a smell of cinammon which will help mask any displeasing smell. In Cadby the flower is called Sweetgift. Sir, if you lift the lid of the stein you will smell that it contains Cadby pear wine which gives off its own wonderful smell. For the older gentleman may I offer a ripe plum?" So saying, Farthis pulled a plum from inside his vest and extended it to the old man. Thinking to himself Farthis was aware it would not do to have people getting sick in front of the exhibition tent.

Claire smiled with interest at the explanation from the woman whom she continued to believe to be merely some functionary from a cultural attache's office. "That's really cool. Have you ever been on one in the water?"

As she waited for Bente's answer, she looked over the various exhibits that had been pointed out to her, learning of the ancient Callisdrunian raids on foreign shores and the brutal wars against Altar Rang. While she had heard of Callisdrun before, she had not heard of Altar Rang. It bothered her when that happened. Of course, she didn't know much about the world outside her own country. She was just a tourist. But it was still troubling not to have heard of a whole nation with its teeming billions of inhabitants that was here portrayed as participating in epic and bloody wars.

Frowning to herself, Claire turned her attention to the wolves, looking the large creatures over with slight fear, or at least nervousness. Bente seemed fine being around them but they...well, they were wolves.

"Of course I've been on one," Bente said merrily. "Every member of the royal family has, as sailing is a sport we generally greatly enjoy." She noticed the sense of fear that Claire had when she looekd at the wolves. "I assure you, they aren't dangerous," she said, gesturing at the pair. "At least not under these circumstances. I don't know why so many people in other countries hate wolves so much, especially when foreign ones are so much smaller." The pair of wolves had resumed sniffing the air, appearing not quite bored, but certainly not particularly surprised at their surroundings. Bente petted one. The animals appeared to be very clean, much more so than most dogs. "They're are national animal."

On the other side, several Callisdrunian folk musicians were getting out their instruments.

Farthis watched as the trio started to wretch and turn to walk away. Thinking quickly he grabbed a bouquet of flowers and a stein from a table set beside the entrance. Moving swiftly Farthis positioned himself in front of the retreating group." Excuse me, my name is Farthis, I am the curator of the Cadby exhibition. I am aware that the smell of our native foods can be somewhat overpowering. So please except these as a gift from the people of Cadby. My Lady if you will smell the flowers, they give off a smell of cinammon which will help mask any displeasing smell. In Cadby the flower is called Sweetgift. Sir, if you lift the lid of the stein you will smell that it contains Cadby pear wine which gives off its own wonderful smell. For the older gentleman may I offer a ripe plum?" So saying, Farthis pulled a plum from inside his vest and extended it to the old man. Thinking to himself Farthis was aware it would not do to have people getting sick in front of the exhibition tent.

oreadest (in turn extending a clawed, aged hand towards the embarrassed host): Do you make a habit of hiding p.. (thinks) p.. (thinks some more) pineapples about your body?

string (noticing his host’s growing discomfort): Please excuse Errinundrian bluntness and, in particular, our companion oreadest’s odd behaviour. He has reached an age and a position where he no longer bothers about the judgement of others.

Farthis (regaining his composure): We too, in Cadby, prefer plain speaking.

chweel (tentatively sniffing the Sweetgift): It’s a bit like our most beloved plant, the southern sassafras, but with more cinnamon and less nutmeg. And, like your beautiful music, it creates a sense of yearning, of some faraway thing way beyond reach. (She inhales the flower’s fragrance with seeming exaggeration.)

oreadest (looking at the plum): Which is the rough end?

stringp: Do you really eat dead animals? We have scavengers in our country too. From ravens down to grubs and beetles and things. There are some amazing fungi in our rainforests that dispose of all sorts of waste.

chweel (nibbles at the flower): This is cool!

Farthis (politely demurring towards stringp and smiling sweetly at chweel): The Sweetgift is a symbol or romance in Cadby.

chweel: Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I’m flying!

Farthis and the two Errinundrian men look at chweel in surprise.

chweel: The tents! The tents! They’re all alive. They’re marching! No they’re not. They’re swimming. Wait! They’re chanting together. This is fantastic. Everything’s flaming. Everything is so… so… cosmic.

stringp: The pear wine’s pretty good too. But I’d like to give this Sweetgift a go.

[OOC: Since punctuality is an important cultural component in my nation's society, I'll semi-back-post a bit so that they don't look... well, late. Which would be out of character. :)]

IC:

The Iluvauromeni tent itself began as... well, a blue tent. However, it had different origins to most tents.

Although, considering who built the tent, this isn't strictly accurate.

In the beginning was a box. The box was about yay-high - that's about twenty centimetres, by the way - and about nigh-wide (about ten centimetres). The solitary Nenya who turned up at first busied around the box for about three hours, and then left. Then another one came, and busied around the box for another three hours... and then left.

Finally, both returned (about two hours after the second departure), and stood around chattering about said box. As they were chattering in High Nenya at the time, not too many people had a clue what they were talking about, but it seems important to note that their point of interest was, indeed, the box.

One Nenya - amber-eyed lass with an elegant body that would tempt most priests at least for an instant, Catholic or otherwise - tossed her mane of hair slightly and sighed. "They might be frightened," she was saying in her native tongue. Although not easily understood even when learnt, High Nenya has a musical, almost Irish lilt to it, it would seem. At least, the nearest accent for analogy is a Cork one. That's in Ireland.

"Oh, for pities sakes," remarked the man. Well, the Nenya male. "What else are we supposed to do? Lug an actual tent all the way here? Those things are a devil to put up, you know. Infernal devices."

"Fine."

The universal irritated capitulation word utilized, they set to work. In this case, however, 'work' doesn't constitue more than pressing a small, slightly darker ring of colour on the otherwise grey box.

And then they left.

The box, however, had work to do.

Within several hours, it had grown itself into quite a nice (as not previously mentioned, light blue) tent. Naturally it was sealed. Curiously (probably), it had also extruded a small corridor, complete with an... airlock. The airlock, of course, was comprised of two sealed doors, complete with an indicator on the outside lock showing the state of air mix inside. The guage is, helpfully, in that apparently universal language (that even strange aliens from other galaxies end up talking, one way or the other), English. And they say the British Empire fell...

Not-so-subtle author-centric ethnic pride aside, the Nenya themselves did not bother to come back that day.

Rather, they - and some twenty others - arrived the next day. The other twenty were not all Nenya; rather, there were five Nenya, nine Humans, four Quendi, and six Tharash. The Quendi being Elves, the Nenya being Elfkin, the Humans being... well, if I have to explain that...

Anyway, the Tharash were the pick of the bunch, in many ways. Being quite tall and covered with downy fur tends to make one stand out in most crowds, but having Humanesque faces to go with it and being entirely naked probably increases the visibility level.

Of course, with all the dragons around, visibility is an entirely relative matter.

After some time wandering around, peering at the other tents but not actually going near them (not near enough for conversation, at least), the Iluvauromeni group ended up back at their tent. After a few more minutes talking, they eventually open the outer lock, and slip inside.

And that brings us to now, essentially. One tent, blue, unattended on the outside, stands amongst the others, wearing only a single marker implying it's origin: the Three Star Sigil of the Iluvauromeni Commonality of Everlasting Light, blazing brightly on it's... everything, pretty much. Might as well be a big bloody flag.

Obviously, the ego of the Iluvauromeni is one thing that hasn't been overstated.

With an airlock.

Oh, and one other point worth mentioning, in all likelihood. The tent is rather large. Probably about as large as they could get away with without seeming overly rude and anxious to show themselves off to the... well, whatever turned up, really.

But big. Spacious. And with that whole 'mysterious closed box' thing going on.

The Yurkan Exibition tent had taken awhile to set up, mainly due to the incense nearly causing the entire exibit to go up in flames. It was thankfully prevented before any permanent damage could be done thanks to the men in charge. Among them were three prized duelists, a few soldiers in traditional Yurkan dress, along with a history professor and a professional chef to handle historical facts and food, respectively. In the back of the tent they also managed to bring one of their shamans along.

Along with the windswept, darkened clothes and cloaks, each of the volunteers also had one or more traditional Yurkan weapons on-hand, though the duelists only had the traditional Yurkan dueling sword, resembling a rather elaborate bastard sword with varying designs. The other weapons included primarily melee weapons like the twin-spear, the Yurkan Razor Chain, along with a pair of deep red battle-claws, four inches each, though these were kept dangling from a chain around one of the soldier's necks. The only ranged weapon in sight was a rather large and unarmed crossbow.

Behind the group of men was a glass case containing non-lethal versions of the weapons for sale, along with traditional clothes and even a few good luck amulets, with Yurkan Sigils engraved in Ruby and other precious materials to ward off evil spirits. Though technically the realm of superstition, the expert craftsmanship put into each one could not be denied. Even the incense being sold gave off more of a sweet smell than that of smoke, vaguely reminescent of the ocean. The Vendor behind the case, a shaman with a metallic headband with a large Shamanic symbol on it, was covered in his wears, along with strange bones and tattoos covering everything but his face.

Further in the tent one could find Grand Wolf skulls, the largest among them huge enough to snap a full grown man in half. Though there weren't as many around anymore due to wars and attempted domestication, the largest Grand Wolves were still able to be seen hunting around the backcountry of Yurka, and if rumors were correct, the slums of certain cities. All of this was detailed on a plaque, appearing in English, with a portrait of one of Yurka's first emperors, Zoel Yurka, with his signature scar-covered body and black eyepatch, with a group of two Grand Wolves by his side, the three completely covered in splashes of blood. The reason for this is due to the fact that the name "Zoel" in Yurkan also doubled as the word "Wolf", and he lived up to his namesake horrifyingly well.

There were also free samples, ranging from spicy Yurkan duelist food and sweet liquors to large paperback pamphlets of Yurka's History, Religion, and Dynasty(Spanning over 40 Emperors). There would also be a sparring match between two of the duelists every six hours, using flattened blades so as not to cause any unnecessary deaths, though the audiance is told that in an actual duel, the death or one of both of the opponents is usually to be expected. On the quasi-spiritual path of the duelist, attempting to not strike an effective killing blow is yet another way of limiting one's own abilities.

In the backdrop to all of this, is Yurkan Classical music being played, largely composed of viola, wind instruments, and the odd harp and other stringed instruments, though there is also high-spirited drum music as well. The types of music are all seperated, with a more melancholy music being played in a soundproof room dedicated to Yurka's extremely recent stance on an end to nuclear weapons development. That exibit is essentially footage of the explosion, along with charts and pictures detailing the event. Coincidentally, that exibit is also the one detailing Yurka's long history of bloody conflicts, which has been scaled down to an enormous pair of three charts with a sentence or two detailing each war, from 160BC to the present.

Claire blinked. Then she blinked again. "Royal family?" She immediately fell into a curtsey. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I had no idea. Please forgive my impertinence." She kept her eyes lowered until Bente told her to raise them.

"Oh, now then, none of that," Bente said crisply, yet kindly. "We don't do any of that bowing nonsense in Callisdrun. Not even to the monarch." She chuckled. Callisdrunians, as a general rule, didn't bow or lower their eyes to anyone, no matter who they were.

Nearby, several musicians were getting instruments out of cases. They appeared to be folk instruments, and would look somewhat familiar to most foreigners, but somehow different. There was a bagpipe like instrument, as well as stringed instruments of various types.

CLaire rose. "Why not, Your Highness?" she asked curiously.

"Because," Bente said amusedly. "It's a matter of pride. No Callisdrunian bows to any other man or woman, ever. You could say that we don't like being on our knees. We also generally would rather others not be on theirs, either. I suppose it's just a cultural oddity."

The musicians nearby were almost finished tuning up.

"Oh, that's interesting." Claire said. "I heard the Cherokee used to be like that so it's not that unique. But they don't mind having a king?"

"The word has different meanings for us. Like many foreign countries, the royalty started as war leaders, chieftans in a way, when the nation was still a multitude of seperate city states. The position was regarded as a duty rather than a privilege." Bente paused, "It still is. Things haven't changed much in that regard. Like all heirs to the iron throne, I joined the military at age sixteen, at the lowest rank. And like all others before me, great lengths were taken to make sure that my training and service were as difficult as possible." Despite her gracefulness, Princess Bente had an air about her that hinted at the fact that she had served in the navy.

By now the musicians were almost fully warmed up. The instruments sounded like instruments from other countries, but at the same time, different. They started playing a folk-sounding tune. It sounded vaguely celtic, what with the strings and the bagpipe-like instrument, but the style not quite the same, it had a distinctness to it. The low, fretted string instruments, of which there were two, one resembling a guitar and the other a much larger guitar, added another weird sound to it. It was apparent that the tune was a dance, and it was very catchy.

"The lowest grade in the whole military or the lowest rank in the officer corps?" Claire asked for clarification.

"The lowest grade in the whole military or the lowest rank in the officer corps?" Claire asked for clarification.

"I started as a sailor." Bente said, levelly. "I had to take training classes to be an officer concurrently in order to move up. Needless to say, I didn't particularly enjoy life during that period. I did become an officer, though, eventually." It was obvious that Bente was no spoiled brat.

"That's really interesting." Claire said. "I never really knew anything about Callisdrun until now. It is interesting though. Is your whole navy set up that way, so that most officers come in as enlisted sailors and then take officer training at the same time? My Father was actually in our navy as a sailor until last year. He was a non-comm by the time he retired with the rank of Chief Petty Officer." Claire didn't hide the fact that she was proud of this. "He knew a couple of guys who went back and got officer's training though."

She smiled politely, looking around to see if anyone else was coming into the tent. She didn't want to monopolize Bente's time if someone else needed attention. "Our princes are expected to enter the military at age 17, which is the youngest age our military accepts recruits. It isn't necessarily expected of princesses but some royal and noble women have been in the military in recent years."

Claire instinctively started to move slightly to the music, looking around for possible dance partners.

Bente smiled approvingly as Claire related the fact that her father had been in her country's navy. Other people were entering the tent, but seemed to be showing themselves around. She didn't mind, as she was enjoying the conversation.

"Well, all princes and princesses have to join the military, in Callisdrun, as military service is compulsory and has been for quite a long time." She paused before continuing. "Naturally, some don't like this idea, and we've looked at other ways to do it, but making it required for everyone seems to really be the only fair way to do it. A lot of people actually volunteer for the Navy, though. It's always been the main branch of our military." Bente made an amused smile after this, due to her next thought. "Many foreigners find the literal translation of its official name to be humorous, though."

The musicians entered a different phase of their tune, which retained its catchiness, despite being in a minor key. A few Callisdrunian attendants who were apparently on break danced a bit to it. The dance steps to this particular song turned out to be very suggestive. They seemed to be unaware of this fact, or perhaps they just didn't care. By now, some people were buying some of the food that was cooking, as well.

"So Callisdrun must attach a lot of importance to this exhibition..." commented Claire "...to have sent their princess personally."

Being a water nation, you can find other sports to do other than lap swimming, boating. AQUA POLO is the name of the game.

Two AP athleats would present the rules, show video footage, then invite gusts to participate.

Alex strolled through the Exhibition grounds, occasionally stopping at a tent to view the various exibits. His clothing, a pair of dark brown trousers, a cream colored shirt with a dark green over tunic and a pair of good leather boots, would have fit right in in most fantasy worlds such a Middle Earth, Narnia or Mithgar. The only distinguishing features were the silver circlet on his forhead and the sword, midway between a longsword and a short sword, on his left hip. The tent will be up and ready before too long, I might as well see as much as I can before I'm needed back there as host.

Approaching the Callisdrun tent the slightly Elven looking young man went inside. He nodded politely to the two women he saw, then stopped and turned to face them as his ears caught the word 'princess'. "Good day to thee your Highness." He gave a slight bow, then straightened. "If it would not interupt thy conversation too much, might I have the honor of introducing myself?"

Claire looked to Bente, awaiting her answer to the young man's question. She smiled a little at the Narbithian as she returned his nod. She listened quietly to the man's somewhat archaic English as she studied his somewhat Elfish features, not speaking herself for the moment.

"So Callisdrun must attach a lot of importance to this exhibition..." commented Claire "...to have sent their princess personally."

"Well, actually, I insisted on going myself," Bente said with a smile. "It sounded interesting and fun, and it was a chance to get away from paperwork and tasks back home. Almost a vacation."

Approaching the Callisdrun tent the slightly Elven looking young man went inside. He nodded politely to the two women he saw, then stopped and turned to face them as his ears caught the word 'princess'. "Good day to thee your Highness." He gave a slight bow, then straightened. "If it would not interupt thy conversation too much, might I have the honor of introducing myself?"

"Why, certainly, sir" Bente said to him. The man's odd garb did not particularly shock her. After all, she, like most Callisdrunians, habitually went around with an axe on her belt.

OOC: Assuming this is still open, if not lemme know and I'll leave
OOC2:I posted this a while ago, and am hoping for a response.

A giant green tent stood out amongst the thousands of tents. It's door finally came open, and out stepped a tall figure wearing a black cloak, that obscured her face. An eerie fog exited the tent from under the walls and out the door, and a strobe light flashed, creating errie effects on the fog. Several recordings overlapped each other, one of a machine gun on rapid fire in bursts, and the other of crickets and various other nighttime noises. Strands of cloth hung down from the ceiling. On the table as one entered the tent sat a black panther. Several displays have been set up throughout the tent. The displays showed pictures of various gadgets and scenery. One particular shot was taken in one of the many Nofian forests, The scene it depicted was of several trees that had been splattered in blood on a training excersize. Several of the pictures showed various bits of equipment and had a little plauque that said "Please ask the person on duty about these items." On the desk sat a stack of business cards, this is what they read:

The Mercenary State of Nation of Fortune
When nothing less than the best is expected

Kiley Nessa - Public Relations Detail
ozonemaker@nofian.com
(555)555-5555

"Why, certainly, sir" Bente said to him. The man's odd garb did not particularly shock her. After all, she, like most Callisdrunians, habitually went around with an axe on her belt.


Alex returned the smile. "My full name and title is Alexander Kingson, Prince of Narbithia, second son of King Narbithan Tyrantfoe and brother to Crown Prince Narbithan the Eleventh. Among my friends and family I simply go by Alex, which I much prefer to the formal version."

"Are you enjoying your vacation then, Your Highness?" Claire asked.

Shaking Alex's hand, she said "Pleased to meet you, I am Bente, crown princess of Callisdrun. I also prefer to be called by my name."

Turning to Claire, she said "Yes, I am enjoying the trip. It's much less stressful than having to help my father with matters of state and such," she sighed after this, showing that clearly, her life was not one of luxury that was typical of royal families. "Oh, and please call me Bente," she said with a smile.

(I hope this is open)

A darkend tent full of people, a young man, and young woman came out.

"Ladies and Gentalmen, all the tricks we do here, are 100% real. No smoke, mirriors, or tricks of magicians, for we are real sorceres. My assitant Misha Tomani will assit me. Misha."

"Thank you. We will elvate from the stage, to the celing."

Misha rose to the celing, the audience ood.

"To prove that their are no wires, turn on all the lights."

"Tada."

The audeince applauded.

"Thank you, Bente." Claire said with a smile.

"So where is Callisdrun exactly?" Claire asked, to keep the conversation moving.

Bente chuckled. "Oh, the far north, where the sun never shines and it's cold all the time." She was not complaining about Callisdrun's climate, but it was common for Callisdrunians to poke fun at themselves in this way. "In the winter it snows on us and in the summer it rains."

Callisdrunian moroii had evolved very well to cope with the area's harsh climate, as opposed to other humans. Of course, they were only 15% of Callisdrunians, but were the image often associated with the nation.

Claire nodded as the princess spoke. "I've never been that far north. Do you think the climate affects your culture very much or how you live your daily life?"

Claire was a little worried that she was imposing on Bente but hardly anyone else seemed to be around and she was somewhat overwhelmed that she was talking to an actual princess. Bente's attitude, much more casual than one would expect of a princess in most countries, actually made her slightly more nervous, although also more eager to hide her nervousness and act relaxed and casual. She wasn't that sure it was working.

Claire knew almost nothing of aristocrats back home. They hadn't had much real power in the last twenty years at least. But Bente did seem to confound not just her stereotypes but her admittedly meager understanding of how aristocracy 'normally' worked. From what she gleaned in the tabloids, Danaan aristocrats who'd lived hard lives devoted to duty, risk, and military service were often the most formal and stuck-up about their rank while the more pampered aristocrats were also more polite, friendly, and casual. While the tabloids never made any formal analysis of the Danaan aristocracy, they portrated aristocrats as all being either useful and mean or spoiled but nice and never any combination thereof. If Claire had met very many real titled nobles back home, she'd know that the tabloids did not accurately describe the real human beings behind the Danaan Court. As it was, she was learning they were wildly off the mark if applied to Callisdrun.