NationStates Jolt Archive

To all Merchants of the World,
On behalf of the board of directors of the Scarborough Traders Faire, I invite you all to attend this most festival. This recreation of the medieval Scarborough Faire, held on the Dercsoni Island of Hope, is a place for all traders and merchants to gather together, as well as ordinary people, and nobles, to sell and purchase all types of goods in one location. All goods may be sold from weapons, to works of art, to small crafts, and livestock. However, the following items, under the rules that govern the Faire, are banned, and subject to imemdiate confiscation by Dersconi officials:
Pornography
The "musical" form known as Rap
Any Satanic items
Illegal narcotics
Other Items so decreed by the faire and Dersconi government.

To all traders: kindly submit a small entrance donation, to the Board of Directors. All traders, merchants, and consumers are subject to Dersconi law.

God Bless,
The Reverand Father Joseph Marco, Archdiocese of Carmel, Chairman of the Board of Directors

"Mom, look a faire!" HRH Robert Ryan Hexx looked up from his hand full of bright circulars.

"Oh? Where?" His mother looked up from her own pile of missives that her personal secretary had passed through. Her Majesty Mercedez Merrideth Hexx thought wrily that her personal secretary was passing though too many, but she knew that all that made it past his eagle, and intimidating, eyes were important.

"In Derscon, on the Island of Hope" He read from the flyer. "Could we please go?"

Mercy sighed. The various faires that were held in Tanaara were on hold due to the troubles in Tarlachia, and Robert had been interested in going for some time. He'd not pressed the issue, but he'd carefully kept her apprised of the running schedule of all of them. That he'd bothered to do so, and done so in a most polite manner, let his mother know that it wasn't just some pasing fancy.

"If you will contact..Is there a contact listed?"

"Yes, a ...The Reverand Father Joseph Marco, Archdiocese of Carmel, Chairman of the Board of Directors listed" Robert looked down the flyer until he found it at the bottom..

"Then contact him and let him know that we will be there incognito with only minimal security. It's only polite, and personal communications are always the best." Mercy smiled at her son.

He agreed readily and went out from his mothers private office.

"Jeremy, I need to send a missive to the Reverand Father Joseph Marco, Archdiocese of Carmel, Chairman of the Board of Directors for the Scarborough Traders Faire to be held in Dercson. Can I do it on your 'puter?"

"Go right ahead."

Dear Father Marco,

My mother, Her Majesty Mercedez Merrideth Hexx of Tanaara, wishes me to inquire if a visit by ourselves, done incognito with only our personal bodyguards, would be too problematical for your Faire. We understand that arranging even unofficial visits by foreign Monarchs is never easy, and will understand if it is simply not possible. But I most sincerely hope that you find it possible, for the Faires normally held here are all cancelled due to the troubles in Fatal Terrain.
Sincerely,
His Royal Highness
Robert Ryan Hexx,

"How does that look, Jeremy?"

"Correct this here... and this" Jeremy, private secretary to Her Majesty made a few minor corrections and nodded approvingly. Robert was most precocious for a child his age. But then again he was the son of Robert Fortier of Imitora and Mercedez Merrideth Hexx. Two of the most formidible people he'd ever had the pleasure to meet.

With the push of a button the missive was winging it's way through cyberspace to the nation of Dercson and Reverand Father Joseph Marco, Archdiocese of Carmel, Chairman of the Board of Directors for the Scarborough Traders Faire.

http://www.atddm.com/mmx1.gifand http://www.atddm.com/rrx1.jpg

Father Marco recieved the e-mail and sent back a quick reply:
Your Royal Highness,
I would most certainly welcome you to the faire. I would double check on Dersconi security policy, however, I do not foresee any problems. I look forward to meeting you, and your mother, at the Faire.
May God Bless You and Keep You,
Rev. Joseph Marco,
Archdiocese of Carmel
He sent the e-mail off, and resumed his other work.

"Well, Jeremy, could you check with the Dersconi 's on what security protocols are needed." Mercy returned her beaming sons infectious smile and continued on with her yoga work out. Only forty two and unmarried she intended to keep her lithe figure despite the various constraints of being an active, 'hands on' monarch and having little time to call her own. As Jeremy left to see to her request she winked at Robert as she abandoned yoga for aikido and flowed into a kata. "And you scamp, how did your lessons go this morning?"

Robert was very much his fathers son, far prefering physical activity over mental, but his teachers had long ago learned how to engage his intellect and keep him interested. He joined her in a mirror of her kata as he described his day so far.

Jeremy slipped out on cats quiet feet and began making the appropriate official enquiries.

"Ya know, we haven't had any dealings with these guys since, well, God only knows when."

"Exactly, and thats why we are gonna send someone out there, and at least let them know we still exist." Hoot pushed some papers forward, towards his FA, and started setting up other appointments.

"Well, Mr. President, who should I send?"

"I dunno, send someone from the Navy, I'm sure we got someone in line for the admirality or otherwise decent position that requires diplomatic skills. Look it as a test for them. Tell them its for a promotion or some shit."

"Yes, Mr. President. Now, about the other matter?"

"The funeral? Yeah, we gotta figure that out, don't we."
+
Give me Fuel
Give me Fire
Give me that which I desire

The thrash mettal filled the cockpit of the F/A-76 as it banked hard, bringing its nose clean around, towards a little dot on its own radar. The music wasn't played over a CD in the cockpit itself, but over the ship-fighter radio. A few Imitoran credits was all it took to make your training dog fight have its own soundtrack.

As James Hetfield wailed on, Lt. Robert "Cool Hand" Mitchell flipped and tossed the fighter, trying to pinpoint the location of the second fighter. A small light show in the cockpit was tying to aid him, but the young pilot, an expert despite his low rank, was easliy outflying the computer. It simply couldn't keep up.

"C'mon Cool Hand, I know you think you can find me," a voice taunted. It belonged to Capt. Rays Garrett, know as Turbo to his wing mates, and the CAO of Imitora's VFA-805, the Jolly Rogers. He had personally made sure that the younger Mitchell was his wing man. He was young, impulsive, and damned good. Garrett was having a hard enough time keeping out of the cone of fire, and at this point in the dog fight, a counter lock was nigh impossible.

With a flick of the wrist, Cool Hand's Archangelsk rolled over and under, diving its nose down, and rolling into an upright, stable angle, bringing the fighter around. He caught only a quick glimpse of the opposing fighter, countering his own manuver. "Whats wrong old man, am I out flying ya?" The comment itself was ironic, as Mitchell was 23, Garrett coming it only five years older at 28.

"Don't kid yourself son, I'm just letting you think you have what it takes!" The F/A cut back across, its underbelly all but scraping along Cool Hand's cockpit. The younger pilot swore at himself, and righted the fighter, swinging it back around towards Turbo. However, he had fallen for the trap set, teh cut across had not been done at a straight angle, but in a turn. Turbo was around and facing before Cool Hand could even right himself. The alarm in Cool Hand's cockpit buzzed audibly.

"Bingo kid, your dead. You know the rules, drop to hard deck, and RTS!"

"Aye sir, Swordsman Seven, RTSing."

It was no more than a few hours later when Cool Hand had his feet up, kicked back in the ready room. Fox News's Imitora affiliate was broadcasting info on the Tarlachian situation, slowly worsening. Footsteps were heard, followed by a body. Garrett. "Get your shit together bud, we're going on an adventure."

"Huh?" Robert said, looking up from the news.

"We got gov sanctioned leave. We're going to Cherry Ridge. Some sorta old time fair or something. Now pack your shit."

"Whats the deal?"

"Your my wingman, your gonna go with me. Got it?" Garrett was normally laid back, but a promotion to Lieutenant Colonel was on the line, and he wanted the jump. He was that much closer to getting his own ship, and there was something about his VFA. He had fully adapted the pirate mentality that was associated with the Rogers, and was himself a fan of pirate lore. The theme of the fair would work out well, and while normally they these style of fairs held to the old mideval time period, he was sure they wouldn't turn back a pirate. Who could?

"Fine," Mitchell replied, standing, heading towards his quarters. "What should I bring?"

"Whatever is comfortable. Enough for a few days."

"Aye aye sir. When's lift off?"

"Just be ready to go when I say so."
___

To: Rev. Joseph Marco, Archdiocese of Carmel
From: Capt. Rays Garrett
Re: Fair

Rev.,

With your blessing, my wingman and myself would like to attend your faire. We wouldn't be selling anything, just seeing what's available and meeting new people. If you could simpy alert us on where to send any funds, feel free to do so at your earliest convience. Regards,

Capt. Rays Garrett
Imitora Naval Air Fleet
VFA-805 'Jolly Rogers'

Captain Garrett,
You are most certainly welcome to attend this faire. As a buyer, you may either pay at the gate, or, as you are a nation's diplomat, you may wire your funds to the headquarters of the board of the faire on the Island of Hope, and you will be able to enter early, and reserve better seats at the dining establishments and better rooms at the hotels and other places to stay.
May Christ Jesus bless you,
Rev. Joseph Marco

Greetings Father Marco!

This faire idea of yours is simply splendid, and too great of an offer to miss! Would it be acceptable to set up a stand or two or three to sell famous Pschycotian swords? These have long been held collectable works of art in many countries. Again, a splendid idea, and our royal blacksmith is looking forward to seeing it!

Yours in Christ,

Shogun Nakamura Himura Kenshin

"Mother, I want to go in costume, garb as they call it." Robert commented excitedly as he lookede through the additional brochures that had arrived concerning the Faire.

"Why of course" Mercy laughed "That's half the fun! What did you want to go as?"

"Why a page of course, your page, since you ought to wear this" He handed her a print of Elizabeth I of England, the well known painting of the legendary monarch (http://www.dover-kent.co.uk/people/images/pic_elizabeth_i.jpg) in the white and pearl gown.

Mercy swallowed and bit her lip to keep from laughing "Oh That is a lovely gown, but I don't think it would fare well outside of a Formal Court and I thought we were going incognito?" She didn't want to mention that she'd probably faint from sheer exhaustion carrying all of that heavy fabric and jewelry around.

Rogbert revied the picture again, his serious sea blue eyes studying the ensemble carefully, and with obvious reluctance agreed. "You're probably right Mother, but some day can we host a fancy dress ball? You'd look ever so much better in it than she did, she is so sour faced."

That did it and Mercy burst out laughing helplessly. "Rob! Thats not nice to say about one of the greatest monarchs to ever rule."

Her son shrugged unrepenetantly. "We have to find you a husband somehow."

That brought the laughter to a sudden end. "Rob!" Then she looked at him carefully "Does it bother you, not having a father?" One of her greatest and deepest hidden fears- at least from Rob - that she was some how depriving him by not being married and him having a father.

She loved his biological father very much, and had deeply buried guilt feelings about not telling him about his son. She had asked him to marry her, but he had turned her down and it had not seemed right to tell him that she was pregnant. She hadn't wanted him to feel trapped into anything, and she had been very afraid that if she told him he would have insisted in doing what some insisted on calling 'the right thing' - no matter how wrong it would have been.

"No! Mom, I don't need a father, not having you. You're the best mom there is!" He replied adamantly.

Mercy let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. When he called her mom, she knew every thing was alright. He'd taken of late to being formal and the diminuative was his endearment to her.

She ruffled his hair and gave him a brief hug that he wiggled out of like most eight year olds did

"Mom!" He excalaimed indignantly.

"Well they'd have to meet with your approval just as much as mine."

Rev. Marco,

Consider the money wired. I look forward to the Faire, and hope that our arrival is not inappropriate. My wingman and myself will be arriving by private flight, with no military esscorts or cover. Respectfully,

Capt. Rays Garrett


With a click of a mouse, the email was off, and Rays grabbed his duffel. He had already alerted the Imitoran government to send off the pay, and the Finance depertment had done so, not alerting Garrett that the money would be comming out of his own pay. Of course, with his pay grade, it wouldn't be much of a dent, but a dent none the less. He tossed the bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his helmet with his free hand.

A quick walk through the cramped halls of the carrier, and he was at Mitchell's bunk. He tapped his helmet against the door, grabbing the attention of the young lieutenant. "Hey Cool Hand, get your shit together, we're outa here!"

Robert nodded, closing down his computer. His duffel was already packed, and he snatched his helmet of his bunk, holding it down by his side. "Where to Turbo?"

"Derscon, Cherry Ridge hosted shindig. Shouldn't be too long of a flight. Our birds are loaded up and ready to rock."

Moments later, the two pilots were out on the deck of the carrier, two F/A-76s loaded up on the cats, blast shields already in place, cockpits open. The pilots slid into their respective fighters, neither carrying any munitions, and closed the cockpits running through the preflight.

Cool Hand settled back into his seat, pulling off a pair of aviators and sliping them into a jacket pocket. A gloved hand closed the visor, and settled on the throtle, watching as Garrett's fighter rocketed forward off the ship and into the sky. I love this part, he thought to himself, his grin hid by the oxygen mask. He mashed the throttle forward, feeling the pressure build up behind him. The deck hand saluted, and he returned the gesture, giving a thumbs up.

A heartbeat later, the nose of the fighter dropped, the fighter lurched, and then the catapult rocketed the aircraft forward. In a second heartbeat, he was airborne, pulling the nose up towards the sky. A tug of a lever, and the landing gear was up in the belly of the aircraft. Soon he was on Garrett's wing, sitting just fifty feet to the left and one hundred back. They were broadcasting openly, letting everyone know they were there, keeping a loud, and therefore unthreatening, profile.

The two fighters slid through the open sky easily, towards their destination. After only a few short hours, they were always short to Cool Hand, they were nearing a final approach. The radio cracked to life, and Garrett gave Cool Hand the final flight path. The second fighter dropped in behind the first, and Garrett radioed ahead, asking for permission to land.

"So what are you going to wear?" Khadri, one of her four personal bodyguards,and a close personal friend asked. She and her partner, Sinjin, had already decided on and aquired Irish folk garb- linen kirtle and leinne for her and a dashing cavaliers outfit for him. Easy to wear and move in. Robyn and her husband, Kazuma, were going Japanese, a casual ladies travelling kimono set for her, he in full samurai with hakama and winged over mantle.

"Oh I had this little number made up." Mercy's eyes gleamed wickedly as she unveilled what was on the dressmakers dummy. The rich dark crimson of the heavy silk gleamed in the overhead light and the antique gold that practically hid the Venetian bodice shown even more.

"That's the gown from Dangerous Beauty!" Khadri half gasped. "Are you going husband hunting?" She teased as only an old friend could.

"NO!..but maybe a flirtation or two might happen. I have the height, coloring .."

"and build!" Khadri laughed.

"To carry it off. No need for those dangerous platform shoes of the period for me." Mercy joined in the laughter.

"Well get Lydia to packing it. We leave before dawn in the moring, and it's a long flight. I've checked and the funds are wired and acknowledged, as are the suite reservations and banquet tickets. Heres to two nights and two days of freedom." Robyn said as she entered her queens's private suite. "The Bird is ready to fly and Rob is going nuts. I don't think he'll sleep tonight, but I bet he falls asleep on the plane."

The Bird was Mercy's personal transport, a specially equipped Antonov AN124.

The final packing will be done while we're at dinner, according to Lydia" Mercy refered to her patient and most able maid, as she stood and replaced the protective cover over the dress. "She has everything in hand as always. Now lets get though this political dinner, and night at the opera, without to much hubbub and we're good to go."

The three women swept out of the suite together still chatting amiably.

Sitting in his leather chair, behind his desk, Headmaster Richard Cleveland looked once more at the piece of paper in his hand. He thought for a moment, then pushed the button on his desk console. A moment later, there was a knock at the door, before it opened to reveal the face of his middle aged secretary.

“Ah, Miss Summers, I’ve been thinking about our economics students, and I’ve had the most splendid idea for them.” Richard announced as soon as the woman appeared.

Miss Summers walked further into the room and opened her pad, as was her habit, but she did not say a word, knowing that her companion would continue without need of a prompt from her.

“This!” He threw the paper on the desk towards her, in an almost dramatic fashion.

Reaching for the paper, Miss Summers picked it up and read the words on the page. “A Faire?”

“Precisely.” Richard steepled his fingers together and leant back in his seat. “The chance to see business in a fun and relaxing environment. Our students think that work is some kind of chore, but this will open their eyes and make them see sense.”

Miss Summers nodded. “Yes, it will do that indeed.”

“Get Professor Harker up to speed on the idea and write to that Reverend chappie. I want to make sure that we support this Faire thing.” The Headmaster looked at his companion as she continued to stare at the paper. “Chop, chop, Miss Summers, we don’t want to miss the boat, or um, plane.”

Nodding her head, Miss Summers left the room and began making the necessary arrangements for six students and their professor to attend the Faire.

Rev. Marco

My personal company Stuart Enterprises will be making an appearance at the Faire. They won't exactly be selling everything we offer but treating it more like an expo and making lots of contacts. Of course, if people want to make deals we'll be happy to do so as well.

I'll be personally attending to snap any collectors items worth buying. Got to spend some of the money earned from investing in Cute Bunny Burger Corporation! I'll be taking my annoying little daughter Leia as she loves shopping like I do.

Love
Queen Mariah
XXX

To: His Excellency Shogun Nakamura Himura Kenshin
From: His Reverence Joseph Marco
Your swords will be very welcome at the Faire. I hope to see you again, and trust that you and your family are doing well.
God Bless You, Your Family, and your Nation,
Father Marco
---------
To: Her Majesty, Queen Mariah of Jeruselem
From: His Reverence Joseph Marco
I look forward to seeing you and your daughter, as well as seeing what unique gifts your company brings.
Blessings,
Father Marco

<Jeruselem military airport>

Queen Mariah's plane was ready to leave for Derscon for the Faire. Another place full of company salespeople and managers was also ready for the same destination. Engineers were still checking the planes and the auxillary fuel tanks for the trip.

A pretty young lady and her daughter disappeared into the plane as guards nearby watched, bored. Count Richard and Crown Prince Arthur watched as Mum and daughter were going for another trip to Derscon. Arthur shouted "Bring some goodies for me!" as the door shut.

The engineers left the planes and the planes soon started taking off. They roared into the clear blue sky - and a fighter escort joined them. DESTINATION DERSCON.