NationStates Jolt Archive

A little over two years had passed since the battle that had ravaged the capital city, brutally killing millions of people and leveling almost a quarter of the city. But the effects of that day did not stop with what had occurred at that period of time and still could be felt across the nation. The economy remained in shambles with corporations suffering major losses including the insurance companies that were unable to reimburse their policyholders for the massive amounts of damage that they had incurred. This forced the government to step in and attempt to reconstruct on their own, incurring heavy debt and forcing layoffs in non-essential portions of government, which only further damaged the economy. Social and political upheaval had appeared, particularly on the local levels of government, as the primarily Christian majority in office faced opposition from a fairly new polytheistic religion that opposed the former’s theocratic policies. Violence was commonplace on the streets of the major cities as the more radical elements of these two sides fought against one another. The national government itself was not spared from problems as it faced the trouble of trying to govern over six billion people using a form of government that was only meant to operate a corporation of half a million employees, a vastly inefficient system for such a purpose.

Although, no matter how important one would see those problems, they seemed to matter little to the embattled population and its leaders when the holiday season approached as all were eager to put aside the heartache, the stress, and the problems that were faced every day and spend time with one another. Christmas trees were bought and decorated in numbers never seen before. Lights were hung from the remaining damaged buildings in the capital city and everything else in sight. Carolers roamed the streets, singing to whoever would listen. And parties were planned that were to bring families and old friends together for a joyous evening.

The citizens were not alone in this idea though, for the Chairman and Chairwoman, long stressed by the events that always kept happening, saw this as an opportunity to relax and enjoy themselves. So individual invitations, elegantly written with a fine tipped quill pen and sealed tightly in addressed envelopes, were delivered to friends of old and new, allies, and acquaintances of the two leaders and included, Former President Drakomis Nokomis Reign and Diplomat Gregory Paladin of Anagonia, Emperor Phoren Narqu of Underwater Asylum, Dread Lady Nathicana D’Aquisto of the Dominion and the entirety of the Non-Democratic Alliance, Premier Hasan Muhammad of Hallad, King John Antonette and wife Katrina of Cherry Ridge, Queen Mariah I and Count Richard I of Jeruselem, Shogun Nakamura Taiki of Pschycotic Pschycos, King Joseph-Napoleon of Reichskamphen, and the Imperial Family of Derscon. In addition to these leaders, a final invitation was sent out, addressed, oddly enough, to “Ame Tilr”, the Xanthalian Ambassador to Northrop-Grumman.

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As the puddlejumper descended into the atmosphere on Earth in preparation for a landing, an unexpected voice resonated from the speakers in its cockpit. “Corporate Jumper One, this is Davis air traffic control. You are not cleared for landing. I repeat, you are not cleared for landing. Please reroute to CCIA.”

The Chairman’s son, Alakantar, who was piloting the craft, appeared surprised at this for he was instructed by his parents weeks ago to land at the air force base, which was much closer to their home than the international air/spaceport. “Davis, this is Jumper One. My orders were to land at Davis. Direct orders from the Chairman himself.”

“Jumper One, new orders were received today from Chairwoman O’Neill, stating that you were to land at CCIA.”

After responding that he had understood the orders, Alakantar huffed in aggravation as he complied with them, first pulling the nose of the craft back up above the cloud cover then turning it south towards the capital city and the airport.

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Several minutes later, the tan cylindrical vessel touched down upon the tarmac inside an area specifically intended for private and other non-commercial aircraft. It was only a short distance from the major runways, where medium to large sized jet aircraft were constantly arriving and departing, carrying travelers to their holiday destinations. But the section that the puddlejumper was in had very few people and even fewer of the small aircraft moving around for the weather was just not the best kind for it.

Alakantar understood how it was outside when he opened the rear hatch, allowing it to drop to the ground with a clank as a drawbridge. He was immediately met by a gust of frigid wind that blew snow into his face and rear compartment, all over the luggage he had stored there. Brushing the snow off of his face, he gazed outside, watching the white flakes blowing across the tarmac.

“Ah…winter as usual,” he chuckled, glancing back to his fellow Drow companion as he gestured outside. “Welcome to Northrop-Grumman.”

Eyarayin d' Drasdera looked out onto the bleak whites and grays of this nation, so different from her native jungle province. Still...she was a guest here.

She nodded, accepting the casual welcome into his country.

Eyarayin stood at five feet two inches, not incredibly tall among her own, but not short, either. She had dispassionate red eyes that Alakantar -- an exchange student to Kaymiril -- had never seen show any emotion at all. A neutral expression seemed permanently fixed on the sharply chiseled face, and long hair -- black, with a prominent white section -- fell down her back in a tight braid.

Her attire was standard for her, that being a black military uniform with silver embroidery displaying her House's insignia.

On the front, a serpent twined around two swords, crossed and turned down, and a serpentine pattern trailed down her arms and legs. Around her midsection, a seamless metal girdle hugged the uniform to her body. It was really her Thalack in resting form, so that it wouldn't arouse unnecessary suspicion.

"Did your new instructions say where your mother would meet us?"

The blue and white SEB-52 converted heavy/stealth bomber dropped out from inside the dreary, grey clouds. Stretching out below it was the devastation. Aboard it, Shogun Nakamura Taiki surveyed the landscape solemnly, How could it come to this? Two allied nations reduced to ash heaps... The noise of groaning gears filled the cabin dimly as the flaps on the wings outside lowered. Taiki continued looking out the window in sorrowful silence until the lowering landing gear shook him back. Looking around the cabin, he surveyed the garland and lights hung around it, with red bows pulling it all together. This should be a happy time, but it's hard to get into the mood with the sights outside. The giant plane landed with a small "thump", and rolled to a slow pace, taxiing to its designated area. Taiki walked forward and stood at the top of the door as the plane lowered itself on its landing gear until the door turned staircase touched the tarmac. Taiki stepped out onto the stairs and embraced to cold wind blowing across him, whipping his hair out to his side and getting snowflakes caught everywhere on his cloak. He walked down, off the plane and began looking for where ever he was supposed to go.

From the air, the heart of Caprica City appears as a giant wheel, a massive circle of urban sprawl ringed by a broad beltway, five highways radiating from a hub of government buildings out to the belt highway. Beyond the beltway on three sides, the city is removed from the surrounding landscape by cliffs. Here, suburbs and upper-class dwellings sprawl out, overlooking the urban area below and the sea beyond it.

Crushed between the beltway and the cliffs wherever there is enough space between the two are several poor neighborhoods, divided from the walled inner city and overshadowed by opulent properties hundreds of feet above them. In one particular nook, a single group of middle-class properties survives nestled between the city, the cliff, and a particularly dirty section of beach. Just before the last incident with the Alteran a special wall, adjoined to the city's main walls, had been constructed to prevent flooding of the area. A single massive steel door stands open to the shoreline, ready to be closed should the might of the sea arise to challenge the constructs of man.

This neighborhood, cut off completely by its walls when the doors were closed during the Second Battle for Caprica City, was one of the few virtually untouched by the madness that engulfed the capital for six terrifying hours on that fateful day. Its modest, yet well-maintained buildings, smooth roads, and carefully-manicured lawns were quite out of place after the capital was ravaged. Indeed, its residents kept the doors providing access to their sector closed long after the battle was won. This prudent action protected them from the chaos that gripped Caprica City until order could be restored. As such, a number of the people that live here feel as though they are blessed; and even though there is no wall that can protect them from the troubles the city now faces, they count themselves very lucky indeed to have been spared the destruction of life and property suffered by much of the city.


In this neighborhood lives a single family of Trasnian nationals. At the head of the household is an unobtrusive woman by the name of Amy Tyler. Her Xanthalian documents claim that she is Ame Tilr, which sounds exactly the same, but is written with Mirfakan phonetic spelling. As a native English speaker, Amy has never spelled her own name that way. Her parents called her Amy and her family name is Tyler; why she should have to change it to satisfy the demands placed upon her people by Mirfak's cultural imperialism? Amy has always been a contrary, a trait that, combined with her disdain for the ethnocentric policies of the central Xanthalian government in Mirfak, has not served her well in her relationship with her bosses on Renku.

Of course, anyone with the qualifications to serve in a diplomatic role knows when to hold her tongue. Amy didn't attain the rank of Ambassador by being insubordinate. She likes her job, and she's damn good at it. Even though Jĭn Rĭn often cites her for her irreverence, Tyler is an immensely competent officer, one the Triumvirate isn't about to dismiss. Tyler moved her family to Northrop-Grumman and began working at the Xanthalian embassy there as a Minister soon after it re-opened 317. Though forty-seven years have passed in Xanthal since then, it hasn't even been half that in the Corporation's territory. Nevertheless, it's been more than enough time for Tyler to become the embassy's Ambassador, a title she attained about sixteen years ago by the Grummian clock.


Amy stands fully uniformed in front of her bedroom mirror, folding her hair into a bun at the back of her head. She is a healthy, vital-looking woman of about fifty Earth years. She is short and skinny, with long blonde hair and a presence that is strengthened by the sharp lines of her clothing. The official uniform... She stares at her reflection with mixed emotions. It identifies her as a fully-credentialled diplomatic representative of the Socialist Republic of Xanthal and a servant of the Triumvirate. Protocol demands that it be worn to all official functions, but while she was putting it on today the instructions on her invitation kept running through her mind: 'casual,' 'casual,' 'the dress for this event will be casual.' By the time she had it zipped up she had convinced herself it would be inappropriate. For any other occasion she would have been all too happy to leave it in the drawer and pull out one of her party dresses, but there is a certain degree of dignity in wearing the badge of her office. Even Amy, no friend of the Xanthalian government, feels obligated to represent her people now. Trasnia may not have been attacked directly, but the implications of Mirfak's defeat have been felt by all the vicinages; all but Than are just as vulnerable. This was not an assault on Mirfak, after all, but an assault on all the Xanthalian nations.

"Paul!" she calls to the man on the other side of the bed, pulling on his shoes. "Do you think this is too formal?"

Her heavyset husband looks over warily. "I think it's... appropriate." Amy is the only one in her family with Xanthalian citizenship. Paul Ernst was born on Freeland just as she, but, not having the diplomatic status of his partner, lost his status as a Xanthalian when they moved out of their country. He and one of their two children is now officially Grummian, having acquired citizenship shortly after moving to Caprica City. Their first child, now twenty-two, renounced his Corporate citizenship and moved to Xanthal just days after the ESUS invasion of Mirfak with the intent of joining the military, an impulsive decision that he carried out to the dismay of his parents. Their second, just nineteen, continues to live with them.

Amy nods decisively. "Alright, this. Ready?"

"Uh, I guess," he replies submissively. "I've never met a dictator before; so... I don't know. I'm as ready as I will be."

"You're probably not going to meet one today either, so don't worry about it," Amy asserts. She turns off the light and marches out; Paul scrambles after her, tripping over a footstool along the way.


A group of three, heavily clothed, troupes out of their two-story home towards the street across the lawn, buried in layers of heavy snow. The chill wind whistles with great strength through the city, unabashed by the walls and homes. The family approaches the black SUV parked in front of the house, waiting for them. Gregory, the son, gets into the back seat on the right side. Paul goes around to the left and Amy takes the front seat, nodding politely to the driver.

Count Richard I was lying in bed looking at a huge scars in his body - 1 new liver and 1 new lung. A selfless military man with compatible organs had decided he would sacrifice his health organs to save the Regent's life. He didn't want to it, but in the end the man had saved him. No more lying in hospital attached to huge machine, he was back to being a person not a cyborg.

He wasn't back to his normal self, he needed to take drugs every day and could not do much stenous activity. Sleep was still hard work and no sex with his wife either. He opened the invitation from Northrop-Grumman - a chance for holiday!

His schoolgirly-gigglepots wife walked in Inquisitor Janus. She had spent the afternoon learning how to shoot a gun without killing yourself.

Richard: You two kids had fun?
Mariah: Apart from my hearing going funny, yes.
Janus: It was hard work

Richard: Want to go Northrop-Grumman for a Christmas party Mariah?
Mariah: Sure thing, Christmas! A time to have fun, meet people, get drunk and ...
Janus: Pick up men. Hey Richard, you upto it with that new liver and lung?

Richard: Well, I'm not dead yet. So I might as well have fun while I'm here.
Janus: No shortage of fun with this wife of yours.
Mariah: God put me here on Earth for fun.

Richard: Well, it's settled. Shall bring the kids, I assume Northrop-Grumman will be safe.
Janus: Well, it is and is not. It's safer than the Greater Prussian capital anyway.
Mariah: Have to bring the kids. It's not Christmas without kids. It's family time!

Janus: Well, I have no family. All dead. Only family I have is my Inquisition and they don't do much at Christmas anyway apart from card games and getting drunk.
Mariah: Then you must come as our security guard! My orders.
Richard: I think she likes you.

Janus: I afraid so.

Katrina opened the invitiation, and informed her husband of it. "I really don't think there can be much enjoyment there, since they broke away." Katrina replied, "Its a party, John. We're going." He rolled his eyes at her, and muttered, "Are we?" He gave up, as there was no winning. Antonette snatched the invitation, and glaced over it, before lightly tossing it on the table. "We need at least one guard. Orlean?" She replied, "Hes an asshole!" Antonette nodded, "Exactly." She groaned, then agreed, "Only if we bring Cardinal Marco." John replied, "Agreed."
----
Your Excellencies,
My wife, Katrina, and myself, will be in attendence at your party. However, we also request that Captain Charles Orlean of the Greater Prussian Imperial Guard also attend, along with His Most Eminent Lordship, Joseph Cardinal Marco, Archbishop of Cherry Ridge. We await your reply.

Merry Christmas,
His Majestic Highness John, King of Cherry Ridge and Archduke of Bavaria
Her Most Mahestic Highness, Katrina, Queen of Cherry Ridge

“Actually…the original plan was for us to land at Davis Air Force Base, where I already had transportation set up long before we even left Kaymiril,” Alakantar explained as he leaned against the interior of the craft. “We didn’t even have to meet anyone, just a simple drive home. But now…I don’t know. I’m guessing that she will meet us here.”

He released a short sigh as his eyes once again gazed out across the tarmac towards the massive curved glass structure that comprised one of the airport terminals. Snow that continued to blow rather forcefully melted immediately upon striking the glass of the terminal’s roof, warmed by the high-capacity heating systems inside. But the flakes that fell outside blew across the ground where it piled up in corners, against walls, creating deep snowdrifts. And the large amounts of it still falling obscured the young Drow’s eyes from viewing anything from afar in great detail, so when a white figure stepped out of the glass terminal’s doors, he was unable to immediately recognize who it was.

As the person neared the puddlejumper, Alakantar recognized the familiar white leather fur-lined trenchcoat, pants, gloves, and heavy boots that he was used to seeing in these winter months, the clothing that made his mother blend in so well with the snow around her.

“Hey, Mom!” he yelled happily, stepping out onto the metal ramp. Raising an eyebrow, Siri said nothing in return and motioned a little to the side with her gloved hand. To his shock, Alakantar was suddenly propelled from the ramp into a nearby snowdrift, covering him in white and stunning him slightly, but not hurting him in any way.

Meanwhile, stopping approximately fifteen feet from Eyarayin, Siri stared coldly at the female Drow, studying everything about her closely, her stance, expression, and clothing, an attempt to understand her fully. But surprisingly, she drew a longsword from a scabbard at her side. Its gold handle and emerald pommel shone brightly in what little sun was overhead.

“Eyarayin d' Drasdera…” the elf muttered, raising the sword with her gloved hands. “...defend yourself.”

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A couple of kilometers from the location where the battle between Eyarayin and Siri was about to begin was an area on the other side of the massive airport that was specifically designed to accommodate the large but still private aircraft that few in Northrop-Grumman owned. It was a rather large location, surrounded by hangars on one side and a glass domed terminal on the other. Today, it was being used for the SEB-52 of the Shogun of Pschycotic Pschycos, and that aircraft, along with any others that would arrive, would be stored in one of the hangars while they attended the party.

Upon stepping off of the aircraft, Taiki was met by an Air Force second lieutenant, dressed in a standard uniform with a heavy dark blue overcoat around him and a service cap upon his head. In his left hand, he clutched a datapad that contained a list of all the guests who would be arriving.

He smiled and greeted the leader, politely. “Good afternoon, Shogun Nakamura Taiki, and welcome to Northrop-Grumman,” he said, gesturing towards the waiting black SUV a short distance away. “I’m Lieutenant Jonathan Wells, and I’ll be your driver today. Please, come this way.”

As Wells was leading Taiki towards the vehicle, he brought up the silver datapad from his side and pressed a button upon it. The device buzzed softly and activated its internal scanners, in an attempt to detect any sort of weaponry upon the man. This was to avoid the rather embarrassing personal searches that the Corporation used to have to do in the days of old. Within only a few seconds, the Shogun’s name on the guest list flashed bright green, indicating that he was cleared to attend the party. Wells also noticed that the name “Amy Tyler” also had done the same, clearly meaning that she and her family was being picked up at the moment.

Arriving at the SUV, Wells opened the passenger side door for the leader and promptly shut it once he saw that Taiki was settled in. He then stepped around to the other side and done the same before speeding off to the O’Neill residence.

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Some time later, both SUVs, the one carrying Shogun Taiki and the other carrying Ambassador Tyler and her family, simultaneously arrived at the wrought-iron gates leading onto the property of the O’Neill’s. The first thing one would notice was an intercom system that was mounted onto a stone pillar on the driver’s side of the gravel roadway. But that was not needed at this time, for a sensor panel contained within that pillar detected a microchip embedded within the chassis of the vehicle and promptly began a scan. It detected the ID cards of both drivers, confirming that they were allowed to enter, and opened the magnetically locked gates, allowing the vehicles through, into a dense forest.

After a few miles of driving, the poorly-shoveled gravel road turned into one of wet black pavement that caused any snow that fell upon it to melt from the heated roadway, a fairly common thing now in the often blizzard conditions of southeastern Northrop-Grumman.

Soon, the forest opened up into a large clearing with a massive granite-fronted mansion as the focal point. The centuries old structure towered over the roadway that circled near the front entrance. Its hundreds of large windows, containing much smaller panes, overlooked the grounds, and those in the gable fronted dormers that jutted out of the steep slate covered roof gave those inside a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside. The front of the mansion had been cleaned recently to its original color, while further back, it appeared to be blackened, untouched by the restoration project that still continued and most likely would still continue for a few more years.

The SUVs pulled around the paved circle to the entrance, where the drivers quickly got out and opened the side passenger doors for the guests to come out. Wells, being the first one there, stepped up to the heavy metal and wood doors of the mansion and pulled one side open to allow Taiki and Tyler’s family to enter.

Inside, the guests found themselves standing in the front hall, twin staircases climbing each side to the second floor. Its dark mahogany panels were decorated with wreaths and bows and candles were lit in the windowsills. Overhead, an iron chandelier hung, tightly bound to the old log beams that crossed the ceiling. Standing underneath this light fixture was a tall elf, dressed comfortably in tan robes fastened to his waist by a simple belt. His long golden hair remained untied in any such way and gently flowed as his head moved to make eye contact with the guests.

He smiled to them as he spoke. “Greetings and salutations, Shogun Taiki and Ambassador Tyler. I am Vice Chairman Shiran Naelthasser.” He then bowed before he continued. “I am certainly pleased to meet you both and am delighted to meet your family too, Ambassador.”

Shiran gestured to a closet underneath the stairs and opened his hands to the group. “Please, allow me to take your coats, and while I am here, would any of you like something to drink before I escort you into the other room?”

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<:: Begin Transmission ::>
<:: Priority - Delta ::>
<:: Sender: Jack O’Neill – Defense Central Command Datalink – Northrop-Grumman ::>
<:: Recipient: King John and Queen Katrina Antonette – Cherry Ridge ::>

Dear John and Katrina,

Thank you for your response. I am certainly glad that the two of you are attending, and I also welcome both Captain Orlean and Cardinal Marco to this event. I will be looking forward to seeing you once again John.

Merry Christmas.

Sincerely,
Jack O’Neill

<:: Text Ended ::>
<:: Transmission Sent ::>

“Actually…the original plan was for us to land at Davis Air Force Base, where I already had transportation set up long before we even left Kaymiril,” Alakantar explained as he leaned against the interior of the craft. “We didn’t even have to meet anyone, just a simple drive home. But now…I don’t know. I’m guessing that she will meet us here.”

He released a short sigh as his eyes once again gazed out across the tarmac towards the massive curved glass structure that comprised one of the airport terminals. Snow that continued to blow rather forcefully melted immediately upon striking the glass of the terminal’s roof, warmed by the high-capacity heating systems inside. But the flakes that fell outside blew across the ground where it piled up in corners, against walls, creating deep snowdrifts. And the large amounts of it still falling obscured the young Drow’s eyes from viewing anything from afar in great detail, so when a white figure stepped out of the glass terminal’s doors, he was unable to immediately recognize who it was.

As the person neared the puddlejumper, Alakantar recognized the familiar white leather fur-lined trenchcoat, pants, and heavy boots that he was used to seeing in these winter months, the clothing that made his mother blend in so well with the snow around her.

“Hey, Mom!” he yelled happily, stepping out onto the metal ramp. Raising an eyebrow, Siri said nothing in return and motioned a little to the side with her gloved hand. To his shock, Alakantar was suddenly propelled from the ramp into a nearby snowdrift, covering him in white and stunning him slightly, but not hurting him in any way.

Meanwhile, stopping approximately fifteen feet from Eyarayin, Siri stared coldly at the female Drow, studying everything about her closely, her stance, expression, and clothing, an attempt to understand her fully. But surprisingly, she drew a longsword from a scabbard at her side. Its gold handle and emerald pommel shone brightly in what little sun was overhead.

“Eyarayin d' Drasdera…” the elf muttered, raising the sword. “...defend yourself.”

"I see that the standard Northrop-Grumman greeting differs more than slightly from the one with which we received your son in Kaymiril," said the female Drow mildly, walking down the ramp and flicking her braid back over her shoulder.

She'd come unarmed, to help Alakantar feel less uncomfortable, but now she held up her hands, and a pair of short-swords appeared in the slender black hands, elegantly crafted and honed to kill.

"N'dromis...full torso and neck."

The silver girdle at her waist shifted, oozing up to become armor for the upper half of her body, shining silver.

"Siri O'Neill, Chairwoman of Northrop-Grumman; wife of Jack O'Neill, Chairman of the same. Your accomplishments include mage, Sith, and warrior. You have led fleets into battle and come out alive.
"I am Eyarayin d' Drasdera, Second Granddaughter of the Third House of Kaymiril. I am the Captain of the Fourth Fleet, and have come through two international wars and two internal skirmishes with honor. I have been invited by you into your nation and welcomed into it only with challenge."

Her stance shifted so that one foot was forward and the other pointing at a 45 degree angle away from her body, and the front sword was parallel to her body, to defend, while the other parallel to the ground, to strike.

"I hear you challenge, Chairwoman...and I accept."

The Royal jet gently passed above the clouds that blanketed the skies above Cherry Ridge that day, and pointed its nose to the island inhabited by the Northrop-Grumman Corporation. As the jet barreled over the clouds towards the island nation, a radio messege came in: Story weather. John deleted the messege as his wife walked into the room.
After recieving permission to land, the jet slowly glided towards the tarmac, and skidded to a stop. Four figures emerged, and stepped onto the ground, where they awaited the Northropian transport.

Taiki bowed pleasantly to the lieutenant. "Thank you for the welcome. I'm sorry you had to come out here in this weather to retreave me," he said. But he followed him to the SUV and enjoyed the ride, not having to worry about surprise attacks for once.

At the mansion, he again bowed pleasantly to the Vice Chairman. "Thank you very much for the welcome. I'm sorry, but I'll be keeping my cloak, it's a force of habit, I hope you understand. And I've brought a small gift for the O'Neills. It's a bottle of Sakerita. It's strong and takes an acquired taste to enjoy it, but I'm confident that they will anyway!" He offered forth the bottle of green-tinted glass and drink with a large smile on his face. The thoughts of trouble from the flight long gone, replaced with a simple pleasure at being where he was.

He then turned to the ambassador, bowed, and offered his hand, "I don't believe we've met! I'm Nakamura Taiki, Tseii-Shogun of Pschycotic Pschycos. What might your name be?"

Amy returns the smile graciously, deftly brushing aside her own surprise at seeing the reclusive official in person. She bows shallowly, removing her winter cap in one fluid motion, eyes firmly set upon those of Naelthasser. "Mister Vice Chairman; it is a pleasure to meet you."

Paul and Greg handle the presence of the important offical much less smoothly. Paul averts his eyes momentarily before correcting himself. His son stares at Shiran with something approaching awe, mouth hanging partially open. A quick flick to the side of his head from his father snaps him to attention, then Paul steps forward, removing his own hat and clearing his throat. "My family is honored to share the joy of the season with the chairs of this great Corporation." He takes off his coat and hands it to the elf, along with his scarf and hat. Amy and Gregory follow suit, until the Tyler family, freed of their winter clothes, has fallen back into line; husband in creme-colored business casual attire, wife in her black jumpsuit and golden trim, and son so formal in his black suit and tie that he looks like a businessman at a board meeting. "I'll take a glass of sherry, if you have it."

"No, thank you," Amy says discreetly as the Vice Chairman's eyes alight upon her expectantly.

"M-me?" Greg looks stunned to be addressed by Naelthasser, even if it's just eye contact. "Uh, beer- I mean wine. Red. Please." He blushes, obviously embarassed. Amy sighs quietly at her son's stumbling.


After Shiran has excused himself to deal with their clothing and retrieve the drinks, Amy turns her attention to the other guest in the room; Shogun Taiki. He introduces himself as "Nakamura Taiki, Tseii-Shogun of Pschycotic Pschycos," a title unfamiliar to her. She is vaguely aware of the existence of a nation called Pschycotic Pschycos (it originally struck her as a very odd name for a country), but Xanthal has not had any formal diplomatic contact with that state in her lifetime. To her knowledge there is no animosity between them, they simply haven't gotten around to talking.

Interpreting his name and appearance as indications that his culture has Japanese origins she returns his bow, going just slightly lower to show her respect. Holding the pose for a couple of seconds, she then straightens and accepts Taiki's offer to shake hands, grasping his perhaps a bit more weakly than would be nominally expected. "Amy Tyler, Socialist Republic of Xanthal; Ambassador to the Conglomeration of Northrop-Grumman. This is my husband Paul, and our son Greg." She indicates each in turn.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, but you don't have to bow quite so formally!" he said, chuckling and waving off the gesture. "Though I'm quite impressed you know of that custom! I don't get near the same respect from others at these events! Well it's not like I mind. Now, my great-grandfather would be appalled at the way things go about that these days, but....Oh dear! I'm rambling again!" It was true, Taiki had a habit of rambling on. He turned to Paul and bowed, and then turned to Greg and bowed again...except this time his large, round spectacles slipped off his nose. He stuck his hands out and juggled with the glasses for a few seconds, finally catching it and placing it firmly back on his nose. "Heh heh, sorry about that. It happens from time to time!" His grin reflected a bit of the embarassment of the situation.

"Of course," Amy says politely, shrugging off his clumsy maneuver. She immediately feels comfortable with the strange man, but takes a step back to give him his personal space, placing her hands at her sides and keeping her eyes just slightly averted from the Shogun's. Though he seems unconcerned with protocol, as a diplomat it's Amy's job to do whatever she can to ingratiate herself to potential contacts. "I must admit that I'm not familiar with your country, Sir. If it's not too much trouble, I hope you'll educate me on the basics." The two other members of the Tyler family exchange a secret 'here we go again' look, but remain attentively silent.

A jet which looked more like something from Star Wars streaked towards Northrop-Grumman. Onboard was Queen Mariah, Regent Richard, Inquisitor Janus, Crown-Prince Arthur and Princess Leia. While the kids were irritating Richard, the Queen was half asleep. Janus was reading something about how monks resisted temptation.

The pilot had to negotiate patches of unstable weather which made the kids all quiet and they hugged their Dad who wasn't the superman he used to be but he made sure his kids were feeling safe.

Queen Mariah held onto Janus during the rest of the flight as she was never a good air traveller. She fell asleep in his arms.

When the plane managed to land after all that trouble, the pilot being an ex-airforce pilot. The quintet left the plane with everyone except Janus carrying luggage. Janus had to carry Queen Mariah who was still asleep like a victorious war chief carrying off someone else's Princess. Mariah being small wasn't a problem to carry. Richard normally would have dragged Mariah around but Janus did not want Richard to overexert himself.

They stopped somewhere shady and waited for the Northrop-Grumman reception party, while the kids tried to wake Mum up. Princess Leia yawned, and need a Cute Bunny soda to keep her awake as like her Mum, she didn't like air travel either.

Xavier slumped in his chair as the personal ship hovered over the atmosphere. Tarakh was sitting next to him, reading the paper and drinking. Behind him the four figures of the SPG, and six other Praetorian Guards were hovering about, not doing much, as there are no threats on board the craft.

On a similar craft, General Karaka Rakhamov and his boss, Marshal Darii Shchitkovetsovich Razladanov, were travelling to Northrop-Grumman on request of Xavier. They were both personal friends of Xavier, and they were to meet someone there whom Xavier has taken interest in.

Both began their approach to Northrop-Grumman without much show, landing where they were told to and not making much of a fuss.

Along for the ride was Franz von Papen, the Foreign Minister to the Tsar. He was not relishing the fact that he was talked into putting off his resignation, but he felt it was for the better.

OOC: Horrible post, but there isn't a whole lot to put up right now.

“Challenge?! What the hell?!”

At first, Alakantar thought his ears were deceiving him, until, out of the snowdrift, his head shot up to find out what was happening. His eyes began to widen once he saw the scene which was unfolding before him. A friend who had saved his life not very long ago was now being challenged to a duel by his own mother…a duel which he thought would most likely end in Eyarayin’s death.

“Wait! No! Stop!” he yelled as he desperately tried to scramble up from the tarmac. “What are you doing, Mom? You’re the one who invited her here in the first place!”

Without turning her head from her opponent, Siri responded calmly, “Silence, Alak. I know what I am doing. Leave us be.” She said nothing further to him as she grinned at Eyarayin and quickly spun herself around, slicing the heavy longsword towards the Drow’s armored chest.

“But…but…” Alakantar stuttered as he realized that there was nothing he could do right now to stop this, aside from what he believed to be a crazy attempt to block two armed and deadly women by jumping between them, definitely something that he was not really wishing to do. So he remembered someone who quite possibly could stop this mess and brought out his cell phone, dialing quickly.

It rang twice before he heard the familiar voice on the other end. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Alak…”

“Hey…I assume you're at the airport already…has your mother picked you up yet?”

“Ummm…about that…I think that she’s…” He was unable to finish the sentence for the connection between him and his father was suddenly cut off. And promptly upon doing so, the phone began to emanate a sharp ear-piercing noise.

Beep-beep…beep-beep…beep-beep

“What the hell?!” he muttered as he glanced down at the screen to see what was going on and saw what the culprit of this problem was. “Low battery…damnit…”

Breathing a sigh of resignation as he placed the cell phone back in his pocket, he gazed out at his mother and friend fighting. “What do I do now…”

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“Well…it looks like Shiran has done it again,” a single male voiced mused to whoever wanted to listen.

Leisurely standing between the twin staircases in the doorway to the central hallway was a tall man, six foot two to be exact, clutching a bottle of Guinness beer in one hand and idly toying with one of the lit candles on a decorated table with the other. He appeared to be middle aged as his face had a few wrinkles on his forehead and his short hair was beginning to have some grey mingled in with the brown. But his clothes were certainly a contrast to everyone else in the room for he wore a red and green knitted sweater and simple tan slacks.

The man chuckled slightly at the appearance of these guests, before he introduced himself. “Howdy, folks,” he said, offering a handshake for each one. “The name’s Chairman Jack O’Neill. I’m glad you all could come in this…rather…brutal weather.”

”Now…let’s see if I can remember who each of you are…” Jack began to call out the person’s name as he pointed at them. “Shogun Nakamura Taiki…Ambassador Amy Tyler…ummm…” He paused as he tried to remember, then responded quickly again, “Wait wait…don’t tell me…husband, Paul….and…erm…son, Gregory. That's not too hard…"

Amy casts her attention away from the Shogun to greet the newcomer. Immediately recognizing the Chairman, she turns to face him; shaking his hand with a rather loose grip. "Mister Chairman," she says with a thin smile.

"Sir," Paul shakes his hand firmly, executing a short bow and keeping a poker face drawn across his features.

Greg, still not completely recovered from the encounter with the Vice Chairman, can't even begin to cover his elation at shaking Jack's hand. He holds on with a deathgrip, pumping enthusiastically. "Mister Chairman, it's an honor. We're so honored to be here. Your guests, I mean. To share Christmas with a man of your stature is..."

"Gregory," his father mutters warningly in his ear.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I-" the son takes a step back. "Don't mind me; I'm a bit caught up in the excitement of it all, you see. If you don't mind, perhaps we could talk later?" He searches Jack's expression with all the hopeful anticipation of a boy a quarter his age asking Santa for a special toy. It's all Amy can do not to groan. His father glares at him critically.

“Challenge?! What the hell?!”

At first, Alakantar thought his ears were deceiving him, until, out of the snowdrift, his head shot up to find out what was happening. His eyes began to widen once he saw the scene which was unfolding before him. A friend who had saved his life not very long ago was now being challenged to a duel by his own mother…a duel which he thought would most likely end in Eyarayin’s death.

“Wait! No! Stop!” he yelled as he desperately tried to scramble up from the tarmac. “What are you doing, Mom? You’re the one who invited her here in the first place!”

Without turning her head from her opponent, Siri responded calmly, “Silence, Alak. I know what I am doing. Leave us be.” She said nothing further to him as she grinned at Eyarayin and quickly spun herself around, slicing the heavy longsword towards the Drow’s armored chest.

“But…but…” Alakantar stuttered as he realized that there was nothing he could do right now to stop this, aside from what he believed to be a crazy attempt to block two armed and deadly women by jumping between them, definitely something that he was not really wishing to do. So he remembered someone who quite possibly could stop this mess and brought out his cell phone, dialing quickly.

It rang twice before he heard the familiar voice on the other end. “Hello?”

“Dad, it’s Alak…”

“Hey…I assume you're at the airport already…has your mother picked you up yet?”

“Ummm…about that…I think that she’s…” He was unable to finish the sentence for the connection between him and his father was suddenly cut off. And promptly upon doing so, the phone began to emanate a sharp ear-piercing noise.

Beep-beep…beep-beep…beep-beep

“What the hell?!” he muttered as he glanced down at the screen to see what was going on and saw what the culprit of this problem was. “Low battery…damnit…”

Breathing a sigh of resignation as he placed the cell phone back in his pocket, he gazed out at his mother and friend fighting. “What do I do now…”

So tempted to smash her face in...

It would have been easy, too...the elf had to use both hands to wield the heavy sword.

That was clumsy...

Eyarayin brought her swords up to parry the blade, catching the overly large and heavy weapon easily and lashing out to Siri's stomach with a kick.

"Tell me, Darthirii, why do you fight an opponent of unknown strength with a weapon balanced to the hand of another?"

She could have inserted at LEAST 'known equal' instead of 'unknown,' but she did her opponent the honor of potentially putting herself as the lesser swordswoman. That, of course, was still to be seen.

"Also...I would have expected your son to better understand a guesture such as this."

Oh...heh. The mental chuckle hadn't been out of amusement...it had been a note that she'd found a way to give in to her earlier temptation while not (seriously) injuring the Chairwoman.

Eya shook her head once, hard, and the braid came flying up over her shoulder...right toward Siri's face...and there was a weight attached at the end of the braid, in the form of a decorative ornament depicting her rank within her House.

Jack smiled and had the urge to chuckle to himself at the response that he was receiving from Greg, for it was rare that the Chairman would have someone this excited to meet him. He was used to walking around in public every day with no one ever really bothering him about pictures, autographs, or any such things, and he would often just chat with the citizens as he would a friend. But he didn’t mind Greg’s enthusiasm at all.

“Ah, that’s alright, Greg,” Jack replied as he patted the young man on the shoulder. “I’d be more than happy to have a little chat with you later. Perhaps after dinner.”

He then glanced around at the other guests and added, “Ok, folks, how about we get out of this drafty hall and into the living room?”

Stepping towards the side set of doors, Jack gently pushed the two open to reveal a rather large room with two dimly lit iron chandeliers hanging overhead. The walls were paneled with the usual mahogany wood that seemed to be prevalent throughout the house, but the floors were just stone with a large piece of red, thin carpet that covered the center of the room. Across from the double-doors was a massive stone fireplace with a fire blazing, providing much needed warmth to the room. And to the right was a fifteen foot high Christmas tree, decorated with an assorted color of lights, ornaments and topped with a bright star at the top. In the center of this room sat armchairs, sofas, and love seats, its wood elegantly hand carved and upholstered with a red and gold flowered design.

“Have a seat anywhere you’d like,” Jack stated, opening his arms to the empty room.

Through a door on the opposite side of the room, the Vice Chairman entered with two drinks in his hand, the sherry for Paul and the red wine for Greg. He handed each of them their drinks with a nod and excused himself from the guests, leaving for the kitchen to check on the dinner for the evening.

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The guests that had recently arrived from both Jeruselem, Cherry Ridge, and Derscon were greeted in the same manner as had Shogun Taiki, with a waiting Air Force officer and an SUV. But this time, thankfully, three vehicles had been sent to accommodate the eleven people comfortably, instead of trying to cram everyone into just one, which would have been interesting, considering the dynamics of the passengers.They were quickly scanned by the officers, and their names checked off of the guest list so as to not keep anyone, particularly the kids and Count Richard, from waiting too long out in the frigid weather. And after seeing that the swords and other bladed weaponry that the guests carried were nothing to be concerned about, the officers escorted everyone into the warmed vehicles and sped back to the O’Neill’s residence.

A short amount of time later, the SUVs arrived at the entrance to the mansion, where the guests were escorted out and through the heavy wooden doors. There, in the front hall, they were met by a different person this time, one whom most, if not all, the guests had never seen before. She stood at about five foot, four inches with her long snow white hair neatly tied behind her. Her red eyes stared carefully at each person, watching every expression that they made towards her to see their response.

The Drow clasped one of her hands over the other behind her and spoke flatly to the new arrivals with scarcely any emotion in her face. “I am pleased to welcome you to Northrop-Grumman and to the house of O’Neill, hospes. You no doubt know each other so I will spare the introductions save for my own. I am Ire’arra Aleanrahel, Matron Queen of the First House of Shal’Thassan-Nal.”

OOC: One's coming tomorrow.

Prince Arthur giggle as his Mum "Hey Mum, she's taller than you". Princess Leia rolled her eyes - she wasn't all that tall either like her mother and realised she was going be stuck as 5 foot tall too. Queen Mariah was used to her son's weird humour, because it came from her. He patted him on the head "That's alright son. People like to see me lying down than standing up." and he smiled knowing what she was referring too.

Queen Mariah spoke to the Drow "Nice to meet you Ire’arra Aleanrahel. This is our first visit to the nation of Northrop-Grumman, and I'm sure it won't be our last." replying in flat tone echoing the Drow's lack of emotion due to her rather tired state. Inquisitor Janus quite liked this Gothic looking elf despite her being non-human, she would have fitted into the Inquisition easily.

A blue swirl appeared, blazing with the light of a second sun for a scant few seconds as a trio of massive vessels slid from the strangely liquid, a pair of four and a half kilometre long battleships, their hulls coated in a silvery layer that reflected the light from engines and the six kilometre long battlebarge that they flanked. Ornate, gothic styled towers climbed high into the dark depths of space, and small, unmanned drones orbited the vessel, glowing with the light of a warm, Australian afternoon. The light glinted off ornately crafted 'glass' windows, elaborately stained and shaped into wonderous, amazing portraits of the Royal Family of the Empire. Railgun turrets bristled on every metre of the hull, and missile pods routinely jutted from the hull, as ornately crafted as the rest of the vessel.

A wing of fighters launched from the battlebarge, and split in two, running flybys on the escort ships, and then, a two hundred metre golden frigate launched, streaking towards NG. A few minutes later, it set down in a field near the mansion. It had taken a little wrangling, but they'd secured permission, and a large, bizarre fighter circled overhead before landing beside it.

Up to the door they went, the royal family and attendants. A tall, fair skinned but heavily tanned man with golden hair and piercing blue eyes lead them, scarred and obviously burnt, slightly pointed ears poking through his hair. Another elf was behind him, with nearly the same face, the same exact hair and eyes. His skin was ivory pale, and he looked younger overall. Unlike everyone else, who were clad in simple, comfortable clothing, he was clad in a fine suit, obviously silk, and had an elaborate sword on his hip. Behind came a graceful, elegant woman with vibrant green eyes and a noblewoman's posture, raven hair elaborately plaited through with silver thread. Then, a lanky, greasy man. Tall, incredibly pale and surrounded by an aura of unease and discomfort for most, and for those with psionic, magical or related gifts, a nearly terrifying one. And finally, fifteen feet behind, was a youthful looking woman, obviously the daughter of the man in front and the woman ahead, the same vibrant green eyes, only slightly glowing. Her hair was long and well kept, blonde streaked with black, seemingly natural.

Drakomis walked up to the Mansion doors in a calm and collective manner. He held himself very proper, his attire that of a Jedi Masters Robes. Having just left a Council Meeting from the Northrop-Grumman Jedi Academy, he had no time remaining to change into anything else. And he didn't want to. So he had cleaned up, and came to the Christmas Party.

His Personal informAtion Device beeped, and he took it from his belt pocket. Gazing at the screen he smirked. His reptilian skin folding up genbtly across the back of his snout. How amusing was it to have Padawans under his teachings. They always contacted him. He typed in a quick reply and placed the P.A.D. back into his pouch, and entered the Mansion.

"Hello? Jack?"

John Antonette bowed slightly, "I am John, King of Cherry Ridge." He noticed a spot of snow on his pin stripe suit, and brushed it off, before introducing his wife, "This is Katrina, my wife." She nodded, "How are you?" Charles Orlean simply glared when he was introduced, though when Antonette glared at him, he said, "Good Day", and that was all.
Cardinal Marco, before he could be introduced, nodded, saying, "Your Majesty, nice to meet you. I am Joseph Marco, the Archbishop of Carmel." He was obviously interested, and sensed that she was not normal, whatever normal was. "You can probably tell though by the way I am dressed." He motioned to his cassock (really a simary, as it has a shoulder cape), red sash across the waist, and red buttons episcopal ring, and his pectoral cross. His ring was a gold band, with a ruby in the center. Along the sides on the band were various engravings. His pectoral cross was suspended from a gold chain, with rubies in various places. All of its precious metals and stones, however, were outclassed by a tiny chip of wood inside of it, a relic of the true cross.

OOC: I'll have to back up a little with this post.

Taiki smiled at the question of his country. Naturally, he was fond of it, and always happy to divulge information. "Well, geographically it covers all spectrums, from forests, to deserts, to tundra, to high mountain peaks (great for skiing, I might add), to tropical beaches. It all depends where you go in it. The main nation is a large, deformed rectangle with a large sea in the middle, and then we have multiple surrounding island chains.

"We were founded from the ancient Japanese many centuries ago. A little while after, we were conqured by the Dersconis. We then fought for our freedom under my great-grandfather. The people then agreed to place him in charge of the country, forming our current government.

"We're a military dictatorship. I'm thehead of the government, and the military handles all government activity, including police work, at local and provincial levels. That isn't, however, to say that we're oppresive. The only thing controlled is the government. As for economics and private life, we leave most options open to the people. We try to just eliminate one area of worry from them. However, all the previous shoguns have thought it wonderful for people to write to them with suggesstions they may have thought of. I fully plan to continue this. Other than that, the only other significant thing is our navy, which is one of the most formidible naval powers in the Greater Prussian Empire, and we design and build all our weaponry ourselves."

When the chairman had come out, Taiki had taken his hand and shaken it, as well as the customary bow he always did. When Greg had gone off talking, he laughed politely, and tried to comfort him a little, "it's a time of celebration and happiness! Such enthusiasm and energy is more than called for!"

He followed them into the next room and immediately took up a seat next to the fire. He was used to being near one at this time of year, as he'd lived in a rather cold portion of his country for most of his life.

The Dersconi party -- Veliky Kynaz Xavier, Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh, Marshal Darii, General Karaka, and Minister von Papen -- all walked in with oddly minimal pomp and circumstance. Xavier Andropov was wearing his customary black and gold attire, which was designed more like a flashy military uniform than something fitting for an Emperor. Tarakh Andropov was wearing his military uniform -- it was that of a full General, but it was more decorative, as he was a Prince, meaning it was jet black and gold, rather than the normal black and red. Marshal Darii Razladanov and General Rakhamov were both wearing their military dress uniforms, while Count von Papen stuck with a basic three piece suit.

Xavier glared at the greeter and the complete lack of any sort of respect or ettiquete. Stupid fucking elf. He refuesed to even acknowledge the existance of the metahuman in front of him, instead turning his attention to his palm PC. Tarakh, however, remained typically unemotional. The military officers were both back with Xavier; Franz von Papen was the only one to actually acknowledge the greeter, nevertheless greet with a smile.

"Good evening to you, as well. I am Franz von Papen, the Foreign Minister of Derscon." He didn't feel like adding on whatever titles he held, as von Papen didn't find the event to be an especially formal affair. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Xavier scanned the newcomers, and, after finally finding who he was looking for, motioned in that direction.

"Darii, go say hello to our friend and bring him my way."

"Yes, sir." The Field Marshal departed to get the person whom Xavier was looking for, while General Karaka stayed with the Grand Prince to occupy him with conversation.

Marshal Darii pinpointed Orlean, who was hovering in the back of the Ridgian party. Attempting to avoid any serious discussion with anyone here, he took the long way around and approached Orlean -- who was looking incredibly bored -- from behind. Putting a hand on his shoulder, Darii pulled Orlean away and whisked him out of earshot of the others.

"Captain Charles Orlean, we have heard much about you. I am Field Marshal Darii Shchitkovetsovich Razladanov, commander of the First Corps of the Dersconi Imperial Army." He began walking back around the path he took to get there, and motioned for Orlean to walk with him.

Orlean's face brightened in a rare moment of happiness. He followed quickly, with only a brief nod at Antonette as he left. As he followed him, he said, "Field Marshal, I am elated to havr this oppurtunity to meet you. You march across Reichskamphen was brilliant! If only you'd gone the wh.." he coughed, and continued, "What is the purpose of your fetching me?"
When he saw Xavier, however, he stepped bravely in front of him, and bowed from the waist, "Your Highness!" He stood upright once more, and said, "Of all the Prussian monarchs, it is you who I have wanted to meet. It is my honour to finally stand before you."

OOC: I believe an "oh shit" is called for right now. *edits his post*

EDIT: Post edited. w00t

In a quick, heavy blow, Eyarayin’s foot struck Siri square in her chest, causing her to stumble back a few steps and knocking the wind out of her. As she was now gasping for air and unable to focus at the task at hand, she did not anticipate the next attack and found herself stuck in the face this time.

“Damnit,” she muttered quietly as she tried to straighten her body and focus upon her opponent.

Siri’s green eyes met Eyarayin’s once again, glowing slightly as her anger grew inside…anger from the fact that she was not clearly winning this battle so far. Something had to be done, she knew. She couldn’t lose to this Drow.

“Very well,” she snapped at her opponent, staring straight at her. “I really don’t need this weapon to fight you, anyway.” With that, she flung the broadsword out of her hands, where it landed in front of Alakantar with a loud clang against the tarmac.

With a smooth wave of her hands across her belt, Siri snatched up two ten-inch daggers and launched herself towards Eyarayin, bringing up one of the weapons to slice at her wrists. But with her right boot, a sharp three inch blade slid out of the front as the elf rammed it towards her opponent’s lower leg.

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Mariah and the Dersconi Foreign Minister’s comments only spurred a slight nod from Ire’arra, who, as per her usual self, rarely engaged in what the humans called ‘chit-chat’, for she considered it pointless. On the other hand, she was more than willing to answer questions that were asked of her and asked anything of a person that she was curious about as she was with the Ridgians.

“I am well,” came the response to Katrina with a nod. “What is the status of your wellbeing, Queen Antonette?”

From Captain Orlean, Ire’arra could feel the tension already mounting between the two and merely raised an eyebrow to his rather rude (in her opinion) response that she received. A few ideas had already arisen in her mind as to why he acted so, but she thought that she would just have to wait and see. But the Drow had found Cardinal Marco to have a rather nice demeanor, even for a human, and looked over him very carefully when he mentioned how he was dressed.

She returned her eyes to his and replied, “No, I cannot. However, I have heard of your monastica for we do possess a sizeable portion of your followers here in Northrop-Grumman, but I have never truly met one of its gub…leaders.”

Noting that the leaders and their families were still all wearing their coats and such, Ire’arra commented to them, “Before you depart into the other room, would each of you please leave your coats and other personal belongings that you would prefer to be stored, out here?”

She then waved her hand, opening the double doors leading into the living room.

Eyarayin's left eyebrow quirked for just a moment, and she stood for a moment, her blades at her sides.

When she did move, it was a lightning fast motion, a twist to the side and a half-step back.

The forward blade slipped under Siri's daggers, preventing them from going anywhere without Eyarayin's consent, and the back sword slipped behind the slender Elf's legs, the flat of it sweeping abruptly forward, using the poor traction to take Siri off of her feet.

Finally, the swords retracted as the Elf was knocked off of her feet, and Eyarayin slammed her right foot into her opponent's side, letting the icy ground send her flying back. After a few feet, she set her other foot down, stopping her motion abruptly and adopting another battle stance, this time with the tips of both blades aimed toward her opponent.

No...no...NO!

Siri’s eyes widened as her attack proved to be quite unsuccessful, sending her back crashing into the ground with no injury to her opponent. She was growing ever more frustrated because of that fact and because about twenty years earlier, she had tried the same maneuver on Drakomis and failed horribly, winding up dying of a lightsaber wound that split her chest open and severed her arm completely.

Now on the ground, she was faced with yet another blow to her body, from Eyarayin’s foot, and felt the pain of it rip through her side. Angrily, she slashed at the Drow’s leg with her left dagger, trying to hurt her in any sort of way.

“I have had it with this…enough is enough…,” she muttered quietly, dropping the daggers from her hand. “You want to play like this? Fine…”

After trying to push through the pain she felt in her side, Siri was able to stand, although hunched over. Her eyes began to glow bright red as the anger raged inside of her, anger from her inability to be able to defeat her opponent. She crossed her hands and rapidly spread them. The tarmac underneath Eya thrust open with a wide cavern, pipes underneath ripping open and propelling burning hot steam upward. Siri then clenched her fists in a ball and thrust them downward, the puddlejumper bolted forward, towards the Drow and into the hole.

Standing with his back up against the terminal wall in an attempt to keep away from this, Alakantar realized that his mother had crossed from a friendly sparing to an all out attack on his friend with the intent to kill.

“No! Don’t kill her!” he yelled to Siri, but she did not listen. “Just stop! No one is supposed to get killed!”

"I am fine, thank you," was the reply from katrina. Sensing the tension, Antonette was glad when Orlean walked off, and quickly apologised to the drow standing before him. When the door weres opened, Katrina walked over and greeted her father with a peck on the cheek, and the greetings one often hears between father and daughter.
Upon entering the room, John greeted the Shogun, and sat down, and engaged 'idle chit chat'. He then greeted the others, and frowne dto himself, missing the presense of Prince John of Derscon.
Cardinal Marco smiled at the drow, "I assume that you have heard of the slaughters that some of my fellow bishops carry out on elves, and for that, I apologise. They are not following the true faith." He then thanked her for asking them to remove the coats, and he placed his scarlet cape with the other's coats, and his black leather bag with the other brief cases.
"If I may ask, Your Majesty, who exactly [i]are you again?" He adjusted his collar, and waited for her reply.

No...no...NO!

Siri’s eyes widened as her attack proved to be quite unsuccessful, sending her back crashing into the ground with no injury to her opponent. She was growing ever more frustrated because of that fact and because about twenty years earlier, she had tried the same maneuver on Drakomis and failed horribly, winding up dying of a lightsaber wound that split her chest open and severed her arm completely.

Now on the ground, she was faced with yet another blow to her body, from Eyarayin’s foot, and felt the pain of it rip through her side. Angrily, she slashed at the Drow’s leg with her left dagger, trying to hurt her in any sort of way.

“I have had it with this…enough is enough…,” she muttered quietly, dropping the daggers from her hand. “You want to play like this? Fine…”

After trying to push through the pain she felt in her side, Siri was able to stand, although hunched over. Her eyes began to glow bright red as the anger raged inside of her, anger from her inability to be able to defeat her opponent. She crossed her hands and rapidly spread them. The tarmac underneath Eya thrust open with a wide cavern, pipes underneath ripping open and propelling burning hot steam upward. Siri then clenched her fists in a ball and thrust them downward, the puddlejumper bolted forward, towards the Drow and into the hole.

Standing with his back up against the terminal wall in an attempt to keep away from this, Alakantar realized that his mother had crossed from a friendly sparing to an all out attack on his friend with the intent to kill.

“No! Don’t kill her!” he yelled to Siri, but she did not listen. “Just stop! No one is supposed to get killed!”

The slashing motion met resistance from the spidersilk fabric Eyarayin was wearing, and opened a cut on her leg, but there was no pain reaction from the Drow.

As the ground split open under her feet and the machine that had brought her to this nation sped toward her, the Drow Fleet Captain sighed, levitating up and landing on the puddlejumper when it stopped.

"You cannot continue to battle in anger and still expect victory, Siri O'Neill."

She jumped down, landing only slightly more on her uninjured leg than her injured, and started walking over to Siri, completely calmly, blades at her sides and at the ready.

"If you intend to kill me here, you cannot expect me to hold back as a courtesy to you."

“Yes, I have heard of the actions of members of your monastica, and I understand that they are only of a select few and do not follow the teachings of the whole.” Ire’arra raised an eyebrow slightly at the question of Cardinal Marco’s as she stepped into the living room. “I have previously stated who I am. I am Ire’arra Aleanrahel, Matron Queen of the First House of Shal’Thassan-Nal, and I am also chief advisor to Chairman Jack O’Neill and his wife, Chairwoman Siri O’Neill.”

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As he was gathering up the coats and other personal belongings in the front hall in order to put them away in the closet, Shiran noticed the main doors open and a guest enter through that had not arrived with the others. Immediately recognizing who it was, he set everything back down on the floor and stepped over, bowing his head to the Komodren.

“Good evening and welcome, Drakomis. It is certainly good to see you again,” he said with a smile. “Jack is in the living room at the moment, but you are free to enter.”

After Drakomis had gone into the other room, Shiran was almost ready to step back and gather up the belongings once more when he heard the main doors open for the second time, this time with four people entering. Noting who they were, he turned back and greeted them with a bow of the head.

“Greetings and salutations, Emperor Narqu. It is certainly good to see you and your family once again,” he replied as he waved his hands towards the doorway. “The others are already in the living room, so you are free to enter.”

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A cut on Eyarayin’s leg, but nothing more…it was something that Siri could not believe for she had tried to do all that she could to her opponent, but a cut was all the Drow received as Siri continued to be in pain from the blows to her body.

How!? How can this be?! her mind screamed.

As her eyes caught a glimpse of Eyarayin approaching, Siri stepped back slowly and carefully, trying to keep her distance but also trying not to fall once more. And her mind did not fully understand the true meaning behind the Drow’s words, and out of her lips fell sentences, broken from the anger and confusion that rattled through her.

“You don’t understand…not at all…to hold back is to lose…to die…an experienced one such as…yourself should know this.”

Her hands dipped into her white trenchcoat and brought out a small knife which she quickly slung at her approaching opponent.

A cut on Eyarayin’s leg, but nothing more…it was something that Siri could not believe for she had tried to do all that she could to her opponent, but a cut was all the Drow received as Siri continued to be in pain from the blows to her body.

How!? How can this be?! her mind screamed.

As her eyes caught a glimpse of Eyarayin approaching, Siri stepped back slowly and carefully, trying to keep her distance but also trying not to fall once more. And her mind did not fully understand the true meaning behind the Drow’s words, and out of her lips fell sentences, broken from the anger and confusion that rattled through her.

“You don’t understand…not at all…to hold back is to lose…to die…an experienced one such as…yourself should know this.”

Her hands dipped into her white trenchcoat and brought out a small knife which she quickly slung at her approaching opponent.

Eya met the tip of the oncoming blade with the tip of her own, stopping its progress and bumping it into the air.

From there, she caught it by the hilt with the tip of her blade, before once more bumping it into the air -- with amazing precision and gentleness -- and letting it whirl...once...twice...then, with the flat of her sword, she slapped the dagger's pommel. If tarmac gave as easily as grass did, it would have landed between Siri's feet, firmly embedded in the soil. As it didn't, the blade skidded between her feet. Eyarayin's eyes had never left Siri. Her point should have been clear...she'd sent the blade between the Chairwoman's feet on purpose.

"There is normally an agreement between host and guest, that one will not try to harm the other while in each other's company. I have been holding back from the moment you drew your sword on me...and I have not lost, nor am I dead."

The Cardinal nodded, "I am not very familiar with that house. Would you care to explain more in depth, your Majesty?" He looked into her eyes, his blue eyes contrasting with her red, and continued his statement, "Because I am almost positive there is more to the story."

von Papen was slightly taken aback by Ire’arra's behaviour, clearly insulted - he being a Foreign Minister of a very powerful nation, was not used to such disrespect. Now I am beginning to understand the Andropovs' distaste for elves and related species, he thought.

Xavier finally looked up to see if Ire’arra was gone, and seeing she wasn't, glared once more and went back to talking with Karaka. Drow are weak compared to Kæsþiöndhrí he thought. The demon inside him agreed. Of course they are, the Drow find undeserved arrogance in their magic. Kæsþiöndhrí, though, are the children of gods. Xavier smiled at the thought as Field Marshal Darii returned with Colonel Orlean. Xavier was pleased at Orlean's boldness. Yes, this is who I want. Xavier extended his arm and shook Orlean's hand.

"Believe me, the pleasure is mine, Colonel Orlean. And I am honoured by the fact I was so well adored by you." Xavier let a smirk creep across his face before continuing. "However, now is not the time for our discussion." There are too many people, Xavier said to ORlean, telepathically. We will meet once more, here, to talk. I will contact you then.

As Ire’arra offered to take coats, the two military officers gladly accepted it, taking off their heavy overcoats, and exposing a chestful of metals, stars, and sashes, and anyone knowing how difficult it actually is to get higher prestige awards, it was clear that they earned all of them. Xavier, however, did not give his coat to the Drow. I would not want that filth to get near me, never the less tarnish this coat with her degeneracy. Papen and Tarakh also did not accept her offer, but they had no coats to give.


Finally walking into the room, von Papen and Tarakh immediately broke off and went towards Jack and Taiki, greeting both of them. "Good evening, Jack, it's been a long time," Papen said, smiling and extending his hand. "I miss the good ole days," he remarked, sighing. Tarakh simply nodded, as was his custom -- not to say anything. "Thank you for the invitation," Papen continued, "even considering Xavier's....stint."

Xavier made his way towards the opposite direction of Jack and Taiki, due to his...less than cordial relations with the two. General Rakhamov and Marshal Razladanov were with him, to occupy him and prevent anyone else from talking to him, for the most part. Orlean was still with them, although he was told he could go back to the Ridgians if he so chose.

When Drakomis entered the room, he gasped. As amazing as the Jedi Academy was, the Chambers and all, nothing was remotely compared to the style placed here. Somewhere inside Drakomis felt a bit of jealousy. It was of a friendly nature of course, and he allowed a smirk to take its place before easily shoving the emotion into oblivion. He felt very proud of Jack, he had done so well for himself. Indeed, everything was more elegant than he remembered!

He took in the lovely stone floors, a hint of red there. He looked at the chandeliers, walls, massive stone fireplace, chairs, everything. Then he remembered the greeting area. He took a greenish scaled hand to his forehead, rubbing his muzzle before dropping it. He never took in his surroundings too well. He laughed to himself then, being the Head of the Jedi Acadamey here he shouldn't have been as suprised as he was.

Nevertheless, he was very impressed and very honored to be here.

Observing the others in their usual commotion, he took no mention of them. He could easily get back to them later. He tried to find Jack O'Neill, but failed. Sighing, he went to one of the free armchairs and sat himself, placing his tail between his legs and let it drop to the floor. It was more comfortable this was anywho, and who would know Anagonian customs? Oy...

Irritated somewhat that he didn't find Jack, he gazed and suddenly found a Fifteen foot tall Christmas tree that he SOMEHOW missed. He slapped his muzzle then, claws hands making a smacking sound. How in the hell could he...?

"I'm getting Old.." he sighed.

Though Taiki was enjoying himself somewhat, he noticed that he had accidentally forgotten to greet Ire’arra. He wasted not a moment as he went over toward her. "Please forgive me, I seem to have forgotten to say 'hello' and introduce myself! I don't mean to be rude. I'm Nakamura Taiki, of Pschycotic Pschycos. Thank you for your hospitality!" He bowed to her, maintaining his wide smile.

"Captain, sir, not Colonel," Orlean corrected Xavier, "Though I do appreciate the premature promotion." He nodded when he received the messege, and followed him. When they reached the living room, Orlean whispered quietly, "Highness, if you do not mind, I will tag along. I can not stand these elven fucks, nor my own party. Antonette's personality sucks, and Marco needs to modernise that church of his. Stuck in the past, worshipping a cracker, as if any deity actually gives a shit about us." He then smirked, realising his own boldness, before keeping quiet.

While his family were more than happy to head into the living room, Phoren was intent to linger a little... Once the others had all left the room, he pulled a small bottle of a pink, somewhat milky liquid from his jacket. "Peca. Enjoy, just not at the moment." He thrust it into Shiran's hand without waiting for a response, and followed after his family...

Only to find his daughter with her switchblade clutched tightly in her hand as she looked at Ire'arra with venomous eyes, his own slipping inside his jacket and resting on something that seemed suspiciously like a chest holster. Everyone else was relaxed, and simply chatting amongst themselves, yet to find interest in anyone else. Thankfully, before things, the older Elven woman stepped up and set a hand on both Phoren and his daughter's shoulders. "Let's put the lethal weapons away for now..."

Phoren grumbled, and surprisingly, complied, drawing his hand out of his jacket as his daughter slipped her blade back into her pocket. Then, he spotted Jack and wandered over, offering a polite nod and half-bow to the others clustered around him. "A nice get together you've got going here, Jack. You didn't mention there'd be... Filth... Attending."

As Taiki was speaking with Ire’arra, he noticed the new arrivals' behavior. Though he shrugged it off at first, he caught wind of the comment. "Please, excuse me a moment." He wandered over to Phoren. "I suggest you watch your mouth. All are friends here, and some of us have particularly good hearing. Please, keep this in mind," he said from behind, welcoming smile gone. At the same time, he bowed to Jack. "Are you going to play nice, now, Phoren?"

"You will find I always play nice, save with such scum that do not deserve to draw breath. Not after their treachery." Well, damn, there goes the peace and quiet. When you've got an insanely powerful psionicist and a man with the power of a God feuding, you don't want to be in the same room.

Amy, now standing apart from the other two members of the Tyler family, casts a dubious eye on Jack, Phoren, Taiki from her warm spot near the fireplace. She doesn't like the vibes she's getting off that bunch; not at all. She'd agreed to attend a party, if she'd known it might become a battleground she wouldn't have allowed her husband and son to attend. She refrains from interjecting herself into the group. In her experience, the more people that have gotten involved in a situation, the worse the things have tended to become. Amy keeps her place, though the feeling of ease that had begun to creep into her is all but dispelled.

"We are here tonight for one reason. That is to be merry and have a good time as friends. For one night, I ask you to put aside your past and your disputes. If I see an ounce of violence, or if you make another move for a weapon, I will personally see to it that you are removed from the premisis. With or without Mr. O'Niell's approval. Now, remember to keep your tounge, and have a pleasant evening." Taiki pushed his glasses back up his nose and left. On his way across the room, he felt Amy's unease. "Don't worry," he said warmly to her, "just trying to head things off before they become dangerous. Not everyone here sees eye-to-eye, unfortunately."

“I believe a suitable comparison in this age would be to the royal houses that comprise many monarchia around the world,” Ire’arra tried to explain to the Cardinal. “But the House System, which is the main focus of our culture, is quite complex and would be best to be explained by someone who possesses more recent experience in it than I. He should be arriving at any time.”

Noticing the presence of Taiki behind her, the Drow turned from Marco and politely bowed to the man. “I am grateful that you are in attendance, Nakamura Taiki. I am Ire’arra Aleanrahel, Matron Queen of the First House of Shal’Thassan-Nal. I also hold the position of chief advisor to Chairman and Chairwoman O’Neill.”

Her senses, particularly her keen hearing, picked up something of interest out in the crowd, but did not cause her to change her ever emotionless expression. I assure you, the feeling is mutual, Captain Orlean, her voice spoke telepathically to the human, before turning it to Jack. It appears we have slight prejudices from the Captain concerning elves. Be wary of him. Although, she could tell that he was dealing with a situation of the same kind…unfortunately.
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“It has been a long time…too long,” Jack responded to Papen, firmly shaking his hand. “I’m glad you could come and join us. Unfortunately the whole family is not here…Siri is out picking up Alak and two of his friends at the airport. They should be back at any time.”

Phoren’s comment to him, along with the one by the Shogun, caused him to excuse himself from catching up with Papen and address this situation before it got any worse.

“Whoa…whoa…knock it off,” Jack responded, quickly stepping in between the two before turning to Phoren. “Look, Ire’arra is certainly not filth. For one thing, I wouldn’t be standing here today if it wasn’t for her…she saved my life, Siri’s, and the entire Corporation.”

He folded his arms as he glanced over toward her. “Don’t start judging her by race like others do, and if you chose to do that, then at least show her some respect by not talking out loud about your prejudices. I will not have that crap here. This is Christmas.”

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Watching the scene that had just unfolded before him, Alakantar’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped in disbelief at the exceptional skills of Eyarayin. He had never seen such a maneuver done before and it amazed him.

A few words managed to fall out of his mouth. “Whoa…that’s…impressive.”

For a brief span of time, Siri stared at the knife lying on the tarmac between her feet, trying to understand her situation. She was beginning to realize that she had no chances of winning. Using her own ‘skills’ had accomplished nothing. Using trickery had accomplished nothing. And using the Force had accomplished nothing either.

Still looking at the knife, she spoke, “Alak, do me a favor…go inside to Terminal 17 and meet someone who probably is already waiting for us there. You’ll know him when you see him.”

“But…” he said before his mother cut him off.

“I’m not going to kill her…I promise.” Not that I could if I tried, anyway.

After making sure that he had gone through the double-glass doors, Siri’s eyes once again settled on Eyarayin, and she began to speak, “Your skills in combat far outweigh my own, even with my ‘dishonorable’ ways. But I cannot fight any other way, it is not in my nature….it is not something I am willing to do…you do not know nor will ever understand my reasons.”

Watching the scene that had just unfolded before him, Alakantar’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped in disbelief at the exceptional skills of Eyarayin. He had never seen such a maneuver done before and it amazed him.

A few words managed to fall out of his mouth. “Whoa…that’s…impressive.”

For a brief span of time, Siri stared at the knife lying on the tarmac between her feet, trying to understand her situation. She was beginning to realize that she had no chances of winning. Using her own ‘skills’ had accomplished nothing. Using trickery had accomplished nothing. And using the Force had accomplished nothing either.

Still looking at the knife, she spoke, “Alak, do me a favor…go inside to Terminal 17 and meet someone who probably is already waiting for us there. You’ll know him when you see him.”

“But…” he said before his mother cut him off.

“I’m not going to kill her…I promise.” Not that I could if I tried, anyway.

After making sure that he had gone through the double-glass doors, Siri’s eyes once again settled on Eyarayin, and she began to speak, “Your skills in combat far outweigh my own, even with my ‘dishonorable’ ways. But I cannot fight any other way, it is not in my nature….it is not something I am willing to do…you do not know nor will ever understand my reasons.”

Eyarayin turned away from Siri, walking away from her hostess.

A few drops of blood dotted the ground at each step, staining the snow a bright crimson, but the Drow officer neither limped nor seemed to notice the cut she had recieved.

The Drow held out her hand, and a wind seemed to swirl around her, making her braid twist in its wake like the creature emblazoned on her arms and torso.

Eya's hand slid up and to the side, and the Puddlejumper lifted up and returned to its place.

"You fight with emotion, and without honor. That is more than enough to get you killed in any combat with a person of reasonable skill. Do not draw a blade on me again, Siri O'Neill. If you should again attack me with intent to kill, I will not hesitate to kill you."

She turned back, and nothing showed on her face...not anger, not annoyance...the same blank expression she'd fought with...the same cold red eyes.

"And I may not know what 'reasons' in your past make you believe that if you do not win each and every time, you will die or worse. Nor do I care why you feel the need to make the excuse that fighting honorably is 'not in your nature.' But I do know that you will never improve beyond what skills you have if you cannot let that mindset go."
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At Terminal 17, a Drow was standing, looking around. He had vivid green eyes, and shoulder-length crystalline white hair that he had halfway tied back, to keep out of his eyes. He was dressed in jeans and a casual button-up shirt (the sky blue that he'd worn all of his life), but he had a bag slung over his shoulder with other essentials...and more formal clothes.

He grinned as he saw Alak approach.

"Vedui'. Usstan khaless dos inbal tlus al?"

Drakomis was well amused with the happenings that were occuring all around him. Indeed, he noted Jacks presence later on during his musing, but he kept his place, sitting in his comfortable armchair. He meditated, making no effort to do anything else but such. Reptilian eyes gazing hard at people here and there, sensing through the Force what is, and what was. Some were quite powerful, and his low-level attempts at force sensing were easily brushed off like dirt on a shoe. Drakomis wasn't suprised to find many such a character, quite happy actually.

He continued his meditation, contiued to sense his surroundings. He noted the anger from a certian individual. He noted Siri. That brung up memories, but he shrugged it aside. He was not here to get involved in matters beyond his control. This was beyond his, so he said his blessings for her situation and moved on. Other, more promanent, individuals caught his attention.

Hate and prejudice. He sensed these emotions. His eyes closed, he sensed his surroundings. Such strong emotions need not witness the gaze of a councious eye. He cleared his mind, and used the Force. His minds eye awoke, and he saw before him a dark field, then a throb of light expanded as many bright figures filled the darkness. This was the life-force eminating from living creatures. He noted the people foremost, then noted that Jack had a infestation of termites in one wall. He also noted a mouse scurring at one corner of the wall to another section of the house. He sensed the mouse...eww...

Turning his councious thought from the mouse to the termites, he observed their mannerisms and ways. Their minds, although at a lower intelligence than his, did display straight-forward intentions. Work and food most promonent. He smiled, he felt their Life-Force very keenly, noting the Queen as well.

Breathing deep he came from the termites to the intelligent persons in the room. He exhaled slowly, withdrawing the vael of secrecy that hid their aura's, that hid their draw to the Force and to life. He saw darkness in some, he saw light in others. He did not concentrate on any one person, no. That would be invading privacy. Instead, he gathered what free thoughts escaped the individuals, seeing their feelings erupt as flashes of light or dark on their figures. To him, as he observed this through the Force, it was like witnessing a three-dimensional chess-board. Yes, he saw everyone, including Siri and her companions. He kept note, and kept a hold on the force.

His gaze turned then, as he breathed gently, to the scuffle between some individuals on both sides of his gaze. One side shed a feeling of prejudice for the other. It was interesting to watch the darkness escalate, to rise. He was sure this was a deep feeling that was placed there long, long ago. He would have to keep a watch on them, he felt.

The person the prejudice was put towards was standing firm, as if not noticing. Although he failed to notice the outward sayings, he noted what feelings left the person in question. Indeed, she was strong willed.

Then he noted one person coming between them. He dared come closer to the person life-force, probe it. He found he could touch the outside tendrals easily, and made note it was familiar. The thoughts that were accessible told Drakomis this one was Jack. He found Jack if he hadn't already.

Jack came between the two parties and seemed to try to end the rising tempers and feelings. Drakomis kept watch, and listened, and felt the Force.

Nothing else mattered but his meditations. No one else would hopefully sense his probings. If they did, it would make an interesting conversational piece. He smirked. Drakomis would have to get to talk to Jack soon. He knew he was busy.

Katrina giggled, but quickly stopped, and John rolled his eyes at what appeared to be the Shogun's putting on a show. The Cardinal shot them both a look, John grinned, and the Cardinal smiled, shaking his head.
However, on the other side of the room, Orlean glared over, at, what was in his mind, a thing, of the same standing as a dog, or perhaps even lower. He said to the group of men he was standing in, "The animal can't even insult me outloud. Then again, I know of no other animal that speaks to me." This got an actual glare from the Cardinal, who was obviously annoyed by the Captain's behavior.
The Cardinal spoke, to no one in particular, "What a Christmas party. Get together to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, our Lord, and this is how we act?"

Noticing someone familiar sitting patiently by himself in an armchair, Jack pushed himself out of the remainder of the mess that he was in, confident that he had ended it suitably. He walked over towards the Komodren and smiled as he put his hand out for a handshake.

“Drakomis, old friend! Always good to see you here,” he said, then whispered as he smirked. “Especially sober.” He then returned to his usual tone. “So how have you been?”

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Hearing the second comment, Ire’arra still did nothing out in the open, not wanting to say or do anything out loud that would greaten the tensions between the other guests. But she did not truly care what Orlean thought or felt about her and intended to bother him further.

I have never needed to speak aloud to dogs in my life, came the response. They normally understand who is above them instinctively.

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The last comment that Eyarayin made stirred long buried feelings inside of Siri, forcing her to turn away from the Drow and shut her eyes. She tried to hold back any emotional outbursts as she spoke, but her sentences came out broken from what she was feeling.

“You are right. What I do, I do because of emotion…I love Jack, I love Alak, and I love my people…I do not ever want to see anything happen to them…like…what has happened…in my past…I will do whatever it takes to protect them even if it means giving up comfort, wealth, honor…and even my own life. I see no other way…This is the life I am in so I must do what I can…”

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Stepping through the crowds inside the busy terminal, Alakantar just kept a slow steady pace, still reeling from the events he watched outside and pondering what it was all about. Even now, he could not understand what had caused his mother to attack his friend like that, and he doubted that he would ever know. In retrospect, he could see the initial attack as a way of testing Eya, like she always did to people. But he did not see why his suddenly wanted to kill her. It was a mystery to him.

Noticing the only other Drow in the terminal, patiently waiting, Alakantar made his way over to him, still keeping that slow pace.

As he answered Jaril’s question, he seemed to be confused and a little shaken up. “Llaar...usstan gumash tlu alur...drill ussta ilhar fridj alus p'luin Eya xuil l' ul'hyrr d' elggin ilta whol nau bwael sanrr a jal.”

Noticing someone familiar sitting patiently by himself in an armchair, Jack pushed himself out of the remainder of the mess that he was in, confident that he had ended it suitably. He walked over towards the Komodren and smiled as he put his hand out for a handshake.

“Drakomis, old friend! Always good to see you here,” he said, then whispered as he smirked. “Especially sober.” He then returned to his usual tone. “So how have you been?”

Drakomis opened his eyes immedietly, standing in a slow fashion as to not shock his body. He smiled wide, showing his teeth in what seemed like a reptilian smirk. Obviously hearing the low-toned comment, he recalled the event that brought it up. He gave a soft chuckle, took Jacks hand firmly in his own, and shook.

"My Brother in the Stars, how nice it is to see you again!" His smirk became more friendly, and expression softened to show his age. "A few years, no? Last time we met was when you invited me for the Grummian Jedi Academy."

The last comment that Eyarayin made stirred long buried feelings inside of Siri, forcing her to turn away from the Drow and shut her eyes. She tried to hold back any emotional outbursts as she spoke, but her sentences came out broken from what she was feeling.

“You are right. What I do, I do because of emotion…I love Jack, I love Alak, and I love my people…I do not ever want to see anything happen to them…like…what has happened…in my past…I will do whatever it takes to protect them even if it means giving up comfort, wealth, honor…and even my own life. I see no other way…This is the life I am in so I must do what I can…”

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Stepping through the crowds inside the busy terminal, Alakantar just kept a slow steady pace, still reeling from the events he watched outside and pondering what it was all about. Even now, he could not understand what had caused his mother to attack his friend like that, and he doubted that he would ever know. In retrospect, he could see the initial attack as a way of testing Eya, like she always did to people. But he did not see why his suddenly wanted to kill her. It was a mystery to him.

Noticing the only other Drow in the terminal, patiently waiting, Alakantar made his way over to him, still keeping that slow pace.

As he answered Jaril’s question, he seemed to be confused and a little shaken up. “Llaar...usstan gumash tlu alur...drill ussta ilhar fridj alus p'luin Eya xuil l' ul'hyrr d' elggin ilta whol nau bwael sanrr a jal.”

"And your fear of losing them if you change your ways is greater than the fear that you will lose them if you do not."

Eyarayin conjured a thin strip of fabric, and then a slightly larger one.

"N'dromis, platform."

The armor that lingered on her torso slid down and off of her, flattening out and hovering at a little higher than her knee. She stood up, conjuring a small dagger to cut away the fabric, and began to methodically tend the cut Siri had given her. She could have easily used magick to heal it, but what little pain there was would teach her for the next time.

"Alakantar has told me many times of your unmatchable skill in combat. If that was 'unmatchable,' you will not be able to protect them. And if you cannot control yourself, you will not be able to protect yourself, either."
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Jaril straightened up, grabbing his cloak and whirling it on.

"Biu thrityh pholor Eya? Xuil orn ulu elgg? Zhah dosst ilhar jal ditronw?"

Jack nodded carefully as he folded his arms. “Yeah, it’s been about…eh…a little over two years already.” He glanced around the room to some degree as he slowly spoke. “Not too long really, but long enough for things to change a whole helluva lot. New house…some new friends out there in the galaxy…a few wars…times are a changin’. That’s all I can say. What about you? What have you been up to?”

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“No, I will not…” she mumbled partially to herself, thinking about what was being said.

Siri knew that she could have very well mentioned that she had other means, her cloaked bodyguards especially, to protect those around her. But that would have been just arrogance and pointless in this situation, for the elf understood that her reasoning was wrong. She had just tried to kill someone who didn’t deserve it, clearly a violation of all that she believed in. Her emotions had apparently become too strong for her causing her to fail in self-control.

Holding her hand out and motioning with her fingers, the longsword that had been resting on the ground, flew up into the air and was grasped by her hands. Siri promptly slid the weapon back into its scabbard and buttoned her trenchcoat up.

She then uttered words that she had not spoken in years. “Then, I need someone to help me, someone to train me in the proper ways. But, unfortunately, there is no one in Northrop-Grumman who would know such a thing because I have personally trained them all.”

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Alakantar began to lead Jaril back out of the way from which he came in while still continuing to talk to him.

“Usstan inbal nau ul'hyrr,” he replied as he shrugged his shoulders. “Ol zhahus fridj ji qee'lak...Uss klew'ar il zhah malarin xuil Eya y'sik llentol, t'yin l' huthin, il zhah galla ulu elgg ilta. Drill Usstan xuat zhaun vel'bol nind ph' xunin nin.”

Jack nodded carefully as he folded his arms. “Yeah, it’s been about…eh…a little over two years already.” He glanced around the room to some degree as he slowly spoke. “Not too long really, but long enough for things to change a whole helluva lot. New house…some new friends out there in the galaxy…a few wars…times are a changin’. That’s all I can say. What about you? What have you been up to?”

"Ever since I came here after retirement?"

Drakomis chuckled, it had been a while indeed. He crossed his arms in return, his muscles showing. It seems that even if someone was nearly a thousand, they could still be physically strong.

"Training Grummian Jedi and Sith, you know...making sure balance is in the force and stuff." He grinned, "Been in contact with the Homeworlds, they still want me back."

Xaiver let out a cruel chuckle at the happenings at the Christmas party. He put an arm around Orlean and led him over to a section of furniture that was isolated from the rest of the group. "Come now, this way, Colonel Orlean. I don't see why we need to mingle with subsentients, and it's not worth the provokation." He leaned in to whisper to Orlean. "These stupid Drow don't know what I am -- no one does. Believe me, it is useful to be underestimated, if you have patience." As Xavier walked, with his arm around Orlean, leading him back with him, his cape seemed to flutter in the room, wrapping the Ridgian in the wing that was created from the fluttering cape.

When they were well out of earshot, he motioned for Orlean to sit beside him, and when the Ridgian did so, General Karaka went to get drinks as Field Marshal Darii sat on the inside of the four chairs, as to act as a buffer between the crowd and Xavier and Orlean.

"Again, Colonel Orlean," Xavier said, now that they were away from everyone else. "Don't mind the elves and their cousin races. They are an arrogant bunch, but they are well below any human. They have their magic, but they are racial degenerates, not worthy of partaking in the air we all breathe." General Karaka returned with the drinks and sat beside Darii as Xavier continued to speak. "This is why Tsar Kralena Andropov IV, the Tsar before Rekjyavich Ivan Andropov I, exterminated the worthless scum from Derscon." He took a sip of the drink. "Around two million elves and one and a half million Drow wiped out in under three years." He shot off the numbers as if he was giving the weather forcast, without a drop of emotion whatsoever. "The last bunches of degenerates were liquidated just as the three year anneversary of the programme dawned." Xavier smiled at the thought as he finished the rest of his drink.

"Anyways, before, when I first met you, I did not mis-speak. Yes, you are a Colonel in the Imperial Guard now. However, I'm removing you from your position in Sachstein. You will make up a new division of the Imperial Guard, one of which I haven't named yet. It will be a small, elite group, and quite unofficial. I want you to be a part of it."


Franz von Papen sighed and nodded. "Indeed, far too long it has been. I would extend you the same invitation that others have been given, but Xavier has effectively cut off travel from Northrop-Grumman to Derscon and vice-versa. He's been getting worse, now that Prince John isn't around to check his ego." HE sighed again, but brightened up after a few seconds.

"But, it's Christmas! THat's what these events are for, to put our problems on the shelf for a time and come together in brotherhood."

Tarakh overheard Phoren's comments on Drow and chuckled. "It seems, Phoren, you and my brother over there would get along." He glanced again at Phoren. "Well, maybe not."

As Xavier's arm crept around his body, Orlean felt a slight shiver. No man had done this since his father, who was killed by the Reichskamphen rebels, most likely New Genevians. Little scumbags too. As the cape fluttered, so did his stomach, not expecting what was about to happen.

He sat down, and looked at the man seated next to him suspiciously, not knowing what to expect. Orlean smiled at the thought of the bodies of dead elves, and looked at Xavier, "Its Captain, Highness." He quickly corrected himself when the Tsar finished speaking, "But now I understand why you have been calling me Colonel. This is a great milestone in my career..erm, service to the Prussian Crown." He picked up his drink, and quietly toasted his soon to be new position, and drank. "I have no desire to approach those dogs again tonight, until necessary."

Suddenly, Orlean turned and looked Xavier square in the eye, "Your predecessor really killed all those fucking things?" After Xavier nodded, and smirked, Orlean continued, "I really don't know why I hate those little shits. They are just so arrogant, and think magic can help them. But real men- people like you and I- know that magic is useless when you’re about to lose the ability to breathe. The best is to watch the fear in their eyes as they slowly suffocate, the gas slowly filling their lungs, or as they bleed to death, knowing that they go nowhere, that they fade into nothingness."

"Now to why I hate elves. Their magic shit reminds me... of my father. Murdered by traitors. Just as they struck my father down from a far, from space, elves use magic and use an unfair advantage. They have no clue how to fight, only how to manipulate their surroundings. Cowards, simple cowards."

"Why do you hate elves, Highness, and when do I get my new shoulder boards and medals?" He shot a quick grin at the end, obviously enjoying himself. And also not realizing that he did not distinguish between mass murder and uniform decorations.

“No, I will not…” she mumbled partially to herself, thinking about what was being said.

Siri knew that she could have very well mentioned that she had other means, her cloaked bodyguards especially, to protect those around her. But that would have been just arrogance and pointless in this situation, for the elf understood that her reasoning was wrong. She had just tried to kill someone who didn’t deserve it, clearly a violation of all that she believed in. Her emotions had apparently become too strong for her causing her to fail in self-control.

Holding her hand out and motioning with her fingers, the longsword that had been resting on the ground, flew up into the air and was grasped by her hands. Siri promptly slid the weapon back into its scabbard and buttoned her trenchcoat up.

She then uttered words that she had not spoken in years. “Then, I need someone to help me, someone to train me in the proper ways. But, unfortunately, there is no one in Northrop-Grumman who would know such a thing because I have personally trained them all.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alakantar began to lead Jaril back out of the way from which he came in while still continuing to talk to him.

“Usstan inbal nau ul'hyrr,” he replied as he shrugged his shoulders. “Ol zhahus fridj ji qee'lak...Uss klew'ar il zhah malarin xuil Eya y'sik llentol, t'yin l' huthin, il zhah galla ulu elgg ilta. Drill Usstan xuat zhaun vel'bol nind ph' xunin nin.”

Eyarayin tied off the bandage and tucked the edges in, before using a spell to mend the ripped fabric.

"You must clear your mind of darkness before you can clear your technique of flaw."

And Eyarayin was a soldier, not a psychologist.
________________________________________________________

"Lil mayar zhah obok nindel Eyarayin orn naut elgg dosst ilhar, d'ril Usstan talinth il orn tlu hasstn."

Jaril grinned, unconcerned.

"Natha a'leai ml'aen, ke."

Phoren, meanwhile, had returned to his family. They were insular, and didn't deal with humans well. Especially not those who defended traitors. Things were frosty, and Nala had her hand in her pocket, no doubt fondling her switch blade- Wait, wasn't there a candlestick behind her? Well, there wasn't now. But surely a Princess wouldn't resort to theft.

Someone had to go and be polite, and that someone was the younger male, who searched through the crowd for someone, anyone, who caught his fancy. Ire'arra, in fact, caught it, and he walked up to her in a thoroughly dignified manner. "Good evening, my Lady. I wish to apologize for the actions of my father and of my sister. Should you desire it I will run them through with my sword, though, of course, such actions are likely to be frowned upon by the other guests."

You've got to wonder why Phoren brought his family. A thieving racist and a sword wielding lunatic.

Inquisitor Janus looked at Queen Mariah "Hey, it is normal for Greater Prussians to want to kill each other even during a Christmas party? It's a wonder why I come to these things".

She nudged him "Don't worry, it's only elves trying kill each other. GP parties are fun for all wrong reasons!"

In Jeruselem, there were no elves mainly because of the climate. No Woodlands to thrive and the locals would have killed them a long time ago. Her sword seems happy with proceedings - it had been used by previous owners to slay thousands of Drow a long time ago, but the current owner had no intentions of repeating that today.

The Antonettes gave a wave across the room to the Jeruselem royals, as they had not greeted them earlier, unintentionally.
Cardinal Marco, on the other hand, wandered over to the inquisitor, and extended his hand, "I do not believe we have met before, Your Excellency, and if we have, it was before my ordination as a bishop, and being created a Cardinal." He grinned, and continued, "I suppose now would be the time for my formal title. I am His Most Eminent Lordship, Joseph Cardinal Marco, by the Grace of God, and Favor of the Apostolic See, Archbishop of Carmel." He gave a slight laugh, "Your turn."

The Antonettes gave a wave across the room to the Jeruselem royals, as they had not greeted them earlier, unintentionally.
Cardinal Marco, on the other hand, wandered over to the inquisitor, and extended his hand, "I do not believe we have met before, Your Excellency, and if we have, it was before my ordination as a bishop, and being created a Cardinal." He grinned, and continued, "I suppose now would be the time for my formal title. I am His Most Eminent Lordship, Joseph Cardinal Marco, by the Grace of God, and Favor of the Apostolic See, Archbishop of Carmel." He gave a slight laugh, "Your turn."

Inquisitor Janus said "Ah, the famous Marco! Good to meet you. Sorry, we didn't see the Ridgians earlier as those elves were trying to stick sharp objects in each other. Don't think I've ever met you, but I am Ridgian by birth and well might have sometime in the past. Now a Cardinal! You know I was a Ridgian by birth and moved to Jeruselem when I was young. No family - all dead apart from the Inquisition and bimbo here. I am the Vice-Grand Inquisitor of Jeruselem and the 2nd in charge of Davidian Order. Tempation is no problem except maybe my boss ..."

The Queen went over to the Antonettes with her kids "Sorry not to have seen you. Too much fun going on." The kids (Arthur and Leia) smiled and gave John and Katrina a hug. "So when you guys going to have some brats like these? I know you've been doing the Catholic thing! Oh, my husband got some transpants and is getting better but not healthy enough for me to molest him if you know what I mean." she asked.

Katrina replied, "Yeah, loads of fun." Katrina rolled her eyes, then contimued, "Nice to see you though, Mariah. And you Richard, how are you doing?" John also greeted them, and then began entertaining the children.

Cardinal Marco smiled, "What's the inquisition up to these days? I'm going to have to visit Jeruselem some day, and visit all the grand sites and places of pilgrimage."

Katrina replied, "Yeah, loads of fun." Katrina rolled her eyes, then contimued, "Nice to see you though, Mariah. And you Richard, how are you doing?" John also greeted them, and then began entertaining the children.

Cardinal Marco smiled, "What's the inquisition up to these days? I'm going to have to visit Jeruselem some day, and visit all the grand sites and places of pilgrimage."

Queen Mariah nudged her husband - he kinda woke up. Richard replied "Sorry, just very tired. Me - new liver and lung and still taking those anti-rejection drugs. Feel a lot better but well still not 100%. I've got this huge scar and it's not pretty at all. Mariah like to poke it sometimes - to see if it's ticklish and it's not. The kids aren't much better either. Anyway, I see John likes kids. Arthur and Leia seem to have found a new playmate, not the Mariah-type playmate I mean."

Janus said "Oh, watching the Moslems. Keeping the extremists in line so they don't start civil wars and other fun things. Also throwing out those evil Scientologists too - they are worst than Masons you know. As for visits, just come - I'll make sure you are safe. Just don't go annoying some people in Jeruselem, they don't like you much."

Katrina smiled, "By next Christmas, he will have his own to play with. You can count on that." She then laughed and asked, "Is the scar ticklelish?"

Marco smiled at the comment about Scientology, "They had two centers in Cherry Ridge. Unfortunatly for them, the people couldn't stand then, and the government enforced the law about cults, chasing them out before the official opening. Actually, the people did the chasing." He seemed somewhat shocked at the last comment, "Why do they not like me?"

As Paul nods off in a comfortable chair and Greg follows Jack around like a loyal tarrier, Amy finds herself pacing impatiently in front of the fire. It's a strange thing to feel so out of place for her: she's attended a number of receptions and gatherings in the past, even hosted some, but none like this. The warmth of the flames and the festive greenery are cast into darkness by the disgust and hatred that many of the guests seem to harbor for one another.

It's a tension that is almost tangible, and it makes Amy very uneasy. Animosity is a part of her job, but blind, irrational malice is something she's never understood and is perfectly happy to leave for others to deal with. But being in a room with such people, some of them all too obviously armed... she hopes that the Christmas spirit of peace and forgiveness is as strong as it's cracked up to be. Expending willpower to stop her feet, the nervous energy migrates to her hands, which start fidgiting relentlessly. She walks to a corner and stands back to the wall, folding her hands behind her to hide the nervous habit. Secretly, she is glad she chose to wear her uniform and not a dress. The warm, tight fabric of the jumpsuit seems to embrace her and endow her with confidence. Without it, she wonders that she might physically have to leave the room, which would certainly be an embarassment.

“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty full plate in front of you, even in retirement…that’s just like my life, Drako. Hell, I should’ve been retired seventy years ago and look where I am now.”

Jack began to laugh, seeing the irony of the situation and knowing what exactly his friend was going through.

“Besides, it’s not like I can leave now either and retire. First, the people won’t let me. Second, who would I leave the job to? Shiran doesn’t want to be in the spotlight. Alak is still in college. And Siri…let’s just not go there...”

He almost chuckled again but caught a glimpse of the Ambassador's son tagging along behind him and thought that he might as well introduce the young man to Drakomis. "Greg, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Drakomis Reign, the Former President of Anagonia who now oversees our Jedi Academy." Smiling, he then turned back to the Komodren. "Drako, this is Greg, the son of Amy Tyler, the Xanthalian Ambassador to Northrop-Grumman."

--------------------------

“I fully understand the sentiment that your father and sister have towards Drow, and I do not blame them for it. The thousands of years of animosity between our races do require time to overcome, and it will not be an easy path to walk,” Ire’arra replied, glancing over to the rest of Kael’s family.

“As to your offer, I do not believe that violence will be necessary since it will only inflame the matter and would result in a rather horrible evening.”

--------------------------

After stowing the coats and suitcases away in the closet, Shiran had made his way back around to the kitchen first to check on the dinner, before returning to the guests in the living room. There, he saw a person of interest that he had wanted to speak with when he first met her in the front hall, but now, oddly enough, she was standing in the corner, seemingly uncomfortable. He assumed that it was probably about the situation that was going on around her.

Shiran stepped over to her and smiled warmly, “Ambassador Tyler, I trust that you and your family are doing well this evening. How have things been for you and your family here in Northrop-Grumman in recent times?”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Darkness…darkness is a large part of me, it is who I am. But it is my past, the problems that it holds, and the repercussions that have lasted throughout these centuries that I must deal with before anything else. It will require time and effort to overcome, both of which I have been desperately trying to do all my life. But I am still trying…”

Siri released a deep sigh and turned towards Eyarayin. “I apologize for my actions in fighting you. I hope that this does not does not put a damper on the party or anything like that.” She smiled. “You are an honorable warrior, and I respect that. And I want to thank you for protecting my son while he was in Kaymiril. I realize that he is in good hands.”

She then turned her head toward the set of glass doors that led into the terminal and motioned towards them as she spoke, “Well, Eyarayin, I think we’d better get inside and meet Alak and Jaril. They are no doubt waiting for us, and we have a party that we’re already late for.”

Before heading in that direction, she stepped into the puddlejumper and snatched up Alakantar’s suitcase in her hand and carried it back.

--------------------------

“Ke, nindel zhah reiyal a'leai.”

As he turned down a hall that led back out to the set of glass doors, Alakantar carefully gazed out into the blowing snow for any signs of explosions or other concerns that he had. But he saw that there was no more fighting between the two and was a little glad, but wondered about the repercussions.

“Drill Usstan kestal nindel jal nindol 'udtila naut jivviim jalbol vel'drav udos inbau rath ulu l' qu'ellar.”

“Darkness…darkness is a large part of me, it is who I am. But it is my past, the problems that it holds, and the repercussions that have lasted throughout these centuries that I must deal with before anything else. It will require time and effort to overcome, both of which I have been desperately trying to do all my life. But I am still trying…”

Siri released a deep sigh and turned towards Eyarayin. “I apologize for my actions in fighting you. I hope that this does not does not put a damper on the party or anything like that.” She smiled. “You are an honorable warrior, and I respect that. And I want to thank you for protecting my son while he was in Kaymiril. I realize that he is in good hands.”

She then turned her head toward the set of glass doors that led into the terminal and motioned towards them as she spoke, “Well, Eyarayin, I think we’d better get inside and meet Alak and Jaril. They are no doubt waiting for us, and we have a party that we’re already late for.”

Before heading in that direction, she stepped into the puddlejumper and snatched up Alakantar’s suitcase in her hand and carried it back.

--------------------------

“Ke, nindel zhah reiyal a'leai.”

As he turned down a hall that led back out to the set of glass doors, Alakantar carefully gazed out into the blowing snow for any signs of explosions or other concerns that he had. But he saw that there was no more fighting between the two and was a little glad, but wondered about the repercussions.

“Drill Usstan kestal nindel jal nindol 'udtila naut jivviim jalbol vel'drav udos inbau rath ulu l' qu'ellar.”
Eyarayin reached out, the small case she'd brought coming to her hand. She turned then and walked into the port without a further word to her hostess...she hadn't even turned her head to regard Siri as the Elf tried to amend her actions.

But words meant little to the battle-hardened Drasdera. She was of a House of action, not of words.
____________________________________________________

"Usstan shlu'ta'naut zhaun...drill natha d' Drasdera hasstn zhah natha d' Drasdera nindel zexen'uman hasstn...d'ril nindel kor zhah locked tarthe ji nindel naust shlu'ta kyorl ol. Mzilt saph l' ssa, nindel Qu'ellar loren inthuul lu' honglath...drill ninta zotreth zhah sarnor, lu' elghinn zhah ninta abban."

Once they were inside the terminal along with Alakantar and Jaril, Siri led the three Drow through the bustling crowds of holiday travelers that were scrambling in and out of the airport, towards the security checkpoints where guards were carefully and methodically scanning all passengers that stepped through. Simple devices were being operated, ones that were similar in design to what the air force officers had been using when the other guests had arrived outside the airport.

Siri stopped in front of the checkpoint and motioned to it. “For security reasons, we need to scan you for weapons and other harmful things. No big deal or anything. It’s just standard operating procedure.”

She was the first who went through. But the alarms suddenly rang out throughout the terminal, causing the elf to just roll her eyes. She slid her identification card out of her pocket and showed the guards, who merely shrugged the amount of weapons off once they had confirmation just who she was. The next who stepped through was Alakantar, and of course, the alarm rang out for him, since he carried his sword with him. Another show of the ID card and he was quickly cleared. But when Eyarayin stepped into the checkpoint, the alarms sounded and the guards raised their rifles towards her.

After reading through what was being displayed, the guard, who was operating the device, stepped out from behind it and motioned for Siri to come over. He waved towards Eyarayin and spoke in a concerned voice. “Madam Chairwoman, this woman is carrying a deadly substance, a liquid, with her. Scans have just shown that its toxicity level is an eleven on our scale. To put it in more unscientific terms, if you were to have just one milliliter in your body, you would be dead….Now, what would you have me to do with her?”

Siri turned towards Eyarayin and raised an eyebrow, “What is this substance you have?”

Jaril had gone through ahead of her, and as he had nothing on him that could be used to harm anyone in any way, the alarm had not sounded for him.

She motioned to him, and he came and held her small case as she opened it.

"It is called zak'ath...as virulent a poison as he says, put to use in the common world as a pesticide."

She took the liquid out, as well as a small glass cup.

"And I brought it for myself."

The glass bottle was clear, and was about half empty. She filled the glass about three-quarters of the way full and drank it.

"If I were to kill anyone, I would kill them in combat. It is dishonorable to kill by poison."

“Uhhh…I don’t…umm…how…what the hell?”

The words just spilled out of Alakantar’s mouth as his eyes widened in his confused state of mind. He could not believe she had just drunk that poison, just like one would with a glass of milk. For a short span of time, he stood there, staring at her and the empty glass, completely baffled how she could do such a thing.

Meanwhile, the guards had kept their weapons raised, waiting for her to either begin flailing out or just drop dead in front of them for this stupid (in their minds) maneuver, and when she hadn’t, the one, who had been explaining the toxicity to Siri, stopped any attempt he had in his mind to take her into custody and looked expectantly to the Chairwoman for what to do.

“Nice,” Siri whispered partially to herself while grinning, before she gave the guard her orders. “Don’t worry about it. She won’t be using the poison on anyone, I guarantee that. Now, order your men to lower their weapons and return to their posts.”

The guard nodded and motioned to the rest, who promptly tucked their weapons away and went back to watching the holiday travelers.

Siri motioned to Eyarayin. “Just come on through the checkpoint. They won’t be bothering you any more.”

Eyarayin had carefully been re-corking the bottle and setting it back in the case, before closing the case and waiting until the weapons were lowered to come through.

She remained silent, but didn't show any signs of having just consumed about ten times the amount of poison needed to ensure an almost instantaneous (and painful) death.

Jaril looked to the Chairwoman.

"Will we be provided an opportunity to change into something more...formal, or should we do that before we leave the airport?"

“Well, I’m not entirely sure where Jack has that party going on. It could be on the front lawn for all we know,” Siri replied, honestly. “So it probably would be best if you could change over in the restrooms here at the airport.”

She led them to the front of the terminal and pointed them in the direction of the restrooms. But after they had gone in, she noticed that someone was missing and turned back towards the checkpoint.

“Alak!” Siri called back to her son who was still standing there. “Come on.”

“Mom…how did she do that?” he asked, still looking confused. “It’s…poison!”

“Hell if I know. You can ask her later, just come on before they think we left without them or something.”

“Alright, alright,” he responded as he followed her up to the front to wait for the other two.

Jaril was out within a few minutes...his formal attire was comfortable and easy to change into.

It consisted of a pair of black silken pants tied with a light blue sash, a thicker silken top, which was the same blue and had his House's insignia (a flying bird) embroidered on it in black, and a long jacket of the same blue silk, with the bird embroidered larger on the back, and black accents. He'd also taken the time to re-brush his hair.

He smiled at the Chairwoman and her son as he approached them.

"We could be waiting a while...that much of that all at once, even she'd be feeling a little nauseated, and a dress uniform properly done isn't as quick to put on as this is...especially with as many decorations as she has."

“That’s alright,” Siri replied as she nodded. “While you two are waiting for her, I will pull the truck around and get it warmed up so there will be no extra waiting…I think we may be late for the party anyway…every minute counts...”

Turning from the Drow, she stepped through the automated sliding doors at the very front of the glass domed terminal, disappearing into the still heavily blowing snow. Standing next to Jaril and still slightly in shock, Alakantar glanced over to him and said one word.

“Why?”

Jaril raised an eyebrow. Unlike his companion's, his demeanor was unruffled, and he was undisturbed by what had just happened.

"Why what?"

Suddenly realizing he wasn't clear with the question he had asked, Alakantar rephrased it.

"Why does Eya drink poison of all things?"

Jaril chuckled.

"We all do, to some extent. Poison is one of the most popular ways to kill nobles...silent, untracable...and effective. In order to counter act that, we build immunities from the time we are very young...selecting a type of poison or two, and putting tiny drops on the tongues of our children. Makes us sick the first several times, but then we get used to it, and after a time, the dose is raised, until it no longer has an effect. The Drasdera tend to drink some every day. In my House, we find that after immunity to two standard doses has been built up, we only need to drink one standard dose -- of a different poison than zak'ath -- every month. Ours is easier to formulate, so it can be conjured."

Alakantar appeared surprised once again but now was understanding what exactly was going on behind the scenes in Kaymiril that caused his friend to do such a thing.

“Whoa…that’s…whew…that’s something I haven’t heard of before…” he responded, although his tone become a little more concerned. “…but…wait…I could’ve been a target while I was over there. I mean, I have never built up an immunity to the poison, never. I've always tried to eat things that were...well...healthy for me."

"You've been wearing the House Pendant we had made for you? That was made with a number of spells to assure your...continued good health."

“Ohhh…I didn’t know that either,” he chuckled, realizing that he was really worried about nothing at all. “At least, none of us should be worried about poison here…people are more likely to shoot than anything else.”

Outside of the terminal, Alakantar heard the ear-piercing screeching of automobile tires, followed by the yells of angry drivers. And in through the sliding doors came his mother furious about something that had happened to her.

“Damn taxis,” she muttered. “Never seem to want to get out of my way.”

"Well..." said Jaril, smiling diplomatcially, "To be perfectly fair, it is a congested area."

Finally, Eyarayin emerged from the ladies' room in full dress uniform. The leather boots were polished to a high shine, and the Hard Silk of the uniform itself was even blacker than Eyarayin's skin.

It was not much different in style than the normal uniform she wore every day in that it retained the color and serpent-emblem worked in silver. What WAS different were the patches sewn carefully around the emblems. There was one for rank, one for each war she'd fought in and markers within those for how many battles she'd won and how many ships she'd taken down or, from a slightly earlier time, how many people she'd killed -- blue thread for single kills, gold for groups of eight, and black for groups of sixty-four. In the space wars she'd participated in -- and there were a couple -- these colos held true for ships...although she hadn't quite managed to have her ship take down sixty-four enemy vessels (not including fighter ships) in any of the circumstances.

Finally, there was the heavy cloak that dropped almost to the ground. While it had no clasps of its own to hold it up, her Thalack had taken the form of a silver serpent and held it to her shoulders for her.

Raising both his eyebrows towards the freshly-dressed Eyarayin, Alakantar examined all of her patches carefully, recalling everything that he had learned from his Kaymirilian history classes. He noted that in her career that she had destroyed forty-five ships and her personal kills in combat were around three-hundred. Quite an impressive feat, he thought and a made a note to try to explain the details to his mother, whom he noticed was cocking her head to the side in order to figure out what all the patches meant.

“You look quite nice,” he commented to his friend as Siri glanced back towards the sliding door.

“Well, I think we’re all ready,” the elf announced, motioning to the door. “Please, come this way.”

Out in the heavily blowing snow, a dark green quad-cab truck was parked between two yellow taxi cabs and partially on the sidewalk. Its engine was still running to keep the passenger compartment warm, which was evident by the billowing twin exhaust pipes out of the rear, and the windshield wipers were rapidly wiping away any snow that fell upon it.

“I know its not as fancy as the Porsche or the Vector, but I can’t fit all of you inside those two-seaters so this will have to do. Besides, the snow is a pain in the ass and I’d rather not get stuck,” Siri commented. “Alak, Jaril, you’re in the back. Eyarayin, you’re up in the front with me.”

After having everyone get in and fasten their safety belts, Siri spun the back tires and sped out of the “parking spot”, cutting off heavy traffic in the process. It took only a few minutes of driving on the interstate followed by a few more on side roads before the truck pulled up to the front of the mansion. Siri then put the transmission into Park and shut the engine off before stepping out and heading up the steps to the front doors.

Hearing people talking inside, she commented quietly as she held the heavy front door open, “Looks like quite a few people are in the living room. But you can still head on in this way, just set your suitcases over beside the staircase and Shiran will get them when he has a chance.”

Eya set hers where Siri had indicated, but Jaril looked at her warily.

"Are you sure it's all right for a minister of state to..."

"Jaril." It was Eyarayin's first word since she'd told Siri that she needed to fix herself before she could fix her fighting technique, and it was harsh and commanding. Jaril scrambled to obey...this wasn't a good time to question one of Kaymiril's most deadly military leaders.

That done, one of the four opened the door to the living room, and the four entered, almost in tandem, Siri and Alakantar in the center, with the two Kaymirilian Drow taking up the sides. Cold air from the foyer rushed into the warmth of the larger room, causing Eyarayin's cloak to flare out and ruffling Jaril's long jacket as well.

As a final touch, one of the O'Neill's cats knocked over a small wreath, sending it tumbling across the floor in front of the group.

The Antonette's set their eyes on the new arrivals, and waved at Siri and Alakantar, and also at the people whom they had never seen before. The Cardinal had also eventually drifted over to a spot near the fire, and motioned for the Inquisitor to follow him.
Orlean, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, and muttered to Xavier, "All degenerates."

Cardinal Marco stood when Siri entered, and walked over, smiling, though with a hint of mischief in his eyes "Siri, how have you been? I trust that you and Jack have been having as much fun as you had in Derscon."

“Sounds like you’ve got a pretty full plate in front of you, even in retirement…that’s just like my life, Drako. Hell, I should’ve been retired seventy years ago and look where I am now.”

Jack began to laugh, seeing the irony of the situation and knowing what exactly his friend was going through.

“Besides, it’s not like I can leave now either and retire. First, the people won’t let me. Second, who would I leave the job to? Shiran doesn’t want to be in the spotlight. Alak is still in college. And Siri…let’s just not go there...”

He almost chuckled again but caught a glimpse of the Ambassador's son tagging along behind him and thought that he might as well introduce the young man to Drakomis. "Greg, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine, Drakomis Reign, the Former President of Anagonia who now oversees our Jedi Academy." Smiling, he then turned back to the Komodren. "Drako, this is Greg, the son of Amy Tyler, the Xanthalian Ambassador to Northrop-Grumman."

Drakomis bows his head, tilting it as to only allow one eye visible. It was closed, the wrinkles on his reptilian face gone for a brief second as he did so. His head went back erect, both eyes visible as he looked directly at Greg. He was an interesting individual, Drakomis noted. Black suit, buisness-man appeal. He looked the truth for what an Ambassador should look like.

"That I am, Jack O'Neill." He smiled, not showing any teeth. "I still take care of official Anagonian business here and there...but...the Academy is my life now."

He folded his arms together, clasping them as he stood straight. Drakomis was easily over seven feet tall, as was common amongst his race. His tail rested on the floor, softly moving left and right as he continued to study Greg. A common sign of great interest within his species. Drakomis was interested in Greg for various reasons, mainly studying the energy that surrounding him. He was a Jedi, afterall. As such, he studied every new individual he came across, both through Force and sight.

"An honor," Drakomis finally said as he extended a clawed, greenish scaled hand for a shake. His Jedi robe hid the rest of the arm that came from within it.

Katrina smiled, "By next Christmas, he will have his own to play with. You can count on that." She then laughed and asked, "Is the scar ticklelish?"

Marco smiled at the comment about Scientology, "They had two centers in Cherry Ridge. Unfortunatly for them, the people couldn't stand then, and the government enforced the law about cults, chasing them out before the official opening. Actually, the people did the chasing." He seemed somewhat shocked at the last comment, "Why do they not like me?"

Count Richard was little embarrassed "Well, err - depends on how to you do it. If you've got soft hands like my wife and rub slowly, it is. The kids just make it hurt. Mariah makes painful things erotic sometimes."

Queen Mariah slinked (the only way she moved) over to Drakomis the Jedi. "You must be Drakomis the famous Jedi, I'm Darthina Maria. I'm sure you've heard to me in Jedi circles."

Queen Mariah was neither a Sith or Jedi, a rogue for both sides and refused to take sides although more recently slightly moved away from Dark side because she found Sith unpleasant people at parties and preferred Jedi. She was called Darthina by some for not embrasing true Jedi way, but retained a lot of Dark powers. If you totally pissed her off, then her dark side turned up in big way.

Queen Mariah slinked (the only way she moved) over to Drakomis the Jedi. "You must be Drakomis the famous Jedi, I'm Darthina Maria. I'm sure you've heard to me in Jedi circles."

Drakomis turned over to view the individual who said his name. He smiled, a gentle smile, noticing that the woman before him was quite an interesting figure as well. He inclined his head in a bow, and heard her greeting.

"Darthina Maria? No, I do not believe we've met." He showed not hint of lying, he left his emotions opened enough to people who could use the Force to interpret his truth. "I am honored to do so now, however."

The moniter lizards smile broadened.

Drakomis turned over to view the individual who said his name. He smiled, a gentle smile, noticing that the woman before him was quite an interesting figure as well. He inclined his head in a bow, and heard her greeting.

"Darthina Maria? No, I do not believe we've met." He showed not hint of lying, he left his emotions opened enough to people who could use the Force to interpret his truth. "I am honored to do so now, however."

The moniter lizards smile broadened.

"It's rare to meet a Master like you. Many may like to wish people like me do not exist, but even rogues like me have respect for the true Jedi Masters. You live in the light while I live in the twilights for the two side." she smiled - not putting up her usual firewalls.

"It's rare to meet a Master like you. Many may like to wish people like me do not exist, but even rogues like me have respect for the true Jedi Masters. You live in the light while I live in the twilights for the two side." she smiled - not putting up her usual firewalls.

Drakomis chuckled, quite amused with this Force user. She claimed to be Grey, and he sensed it within her. However her sense of what he was might be off. Of course he delighted in dwelling in the light, but he knewe the dark as well. Perhaps he, too, should be called Grey. No matter, this would be an interesting conversation.

Drakomis noted her lack of resistance to his emotional probings, and responded. "True Jedi Master? I am flattered."

He turned to her, his attention on her as he talked. "But the twilight is such a familiar territory. While I delight in the Light, I do not forsake the balance of the Force. I have trained Sith as well, dear Lady. The Twilight has never forsaken me, nor the Force." He grinned, "Knowing the Force is knowing both sides. I admire your spectrum of knowledge, though I sense much you have yet to learn within you."

Drakomis chuckled, quite amused with this Force user. She claimed to be Grey, and he sensed it within her. However her sense of what he was might be off. Of course he delighted in dwelling in the light, but he knewe the dark as well. Perhaps he, too, should be called Grey. No matter, this would be an interesting conversation.

Drakomis noted her lack of resistance to his emotional probings, and responded. "True Jedi Master? I am flattered."

He turned to her, his attention on her as he talked. "But the twilight is such a familiar territory. While I delight in the Light, I do not forsake the balance of the Force. I have trained Sith as well, dear Lady. The Twilight has never forsaken me, nor the Force." He grinned, "Knowing the Force is knowing both sides. I admire your spectrum of knowledge, though I sense much you have yet to learn within you."

Mariah smile "True, true. I am only young and my ability with the force is not mature. I cannot join the Light side as I am too unstable and yet, I loath the Dark side too. That's why I'm in the twilight but have to make the balance. I know I don't know everything about my powers but maybe a man like you can help me manage my abilities better. I am prone to misusing them - which means I need watch myself from tipping into the Dark side too much."

The RSVP had been sent out soon after the invitation had been received. This was an excellent opportunity to meet and greet and accept the hospitality of their newest ally, and Nathicana was very much looking forward to attending.

Of course there had been the usual arguments, as there always were, about security, especially given some of those likely to be attending, which she eventually overruled as she tended to do. No more than two guards would be allowed to attend, though a full detachment would be present on the Loki they would be taking, and more in several others that would be escorting and left in orbit. Spook would keep them up to date on events, and the skills of both herself, and her preferred guards would be enough to hold if need be til reinforcements arrived, she argued. Not to mention the fact that she held the honor of Jack O’Neill in high regard, and had no doubts that he was entirely capable of keeping the peace in his own home. Were they, after all, not capable of the same, she reminded them, referencing other larger gatherings that had gone off just fine, even with contentious groups in attendance.

For herself, she’d chosen a simple yet striking ensemble consisting of a sleeveless black silk cheongsam, the dragon pictured on it curling sinuously up along the curves of her body, picked out in red and gold threads, a teardrop-shaped opening beginning just under the collar providing a flirtatious yet not improper décolletage. It was dressy enough for her tastes, and yet casual enough to suit the invitation’s attire standard, whatever other people chose to wear. And as an added benefit, it was comfortable. Two ebony sticks capped with red and gold, complimented the dress, holding her raven tresses back in gentle sweeps and curls. The only other articles of jewelry she wore were unpretentious gold drop earrings, and a simple solitaire on her left hand that she thumbed thoughtfully now and then.

Masetti and Pascali, her two preferred personal guards, the first being in fact, head of said personal security, wore their usual unrelieved black, as was tradition, in the style most were used to seeing Nathicana accompanied by in more friendly venues - standard issue combat boots, shined to perfection, sturdy loose-fitting pants, high-collared pull-on shirts, and long black trench coats of a durable yet flowing material that did wonders for concealing all manner of things, and masking movements. Not to mention hiding the armored lining inside.

She for once allowed another pilot to fly the richly-appointed Loki that Xeruyu had gifted her with, taking the time to revel a bit in the decadence which helped put her in a playful state of mind. All the proper flight precautions and niceties were observed, requesting landing permission before arrival, and following landing instructions patiently and politely.

Scans would reveal that they had followed their host’s request pertaining to weaponry to the letter – the men carried telescoping steel batons, kubotans, and one standard Dominion military knife, pointedly tucked into it’s sheath which was snapped closed at their sides in an approximation of a ‘peace knot’ for traditional blades. Nathi herself kept only a simple butterfly knife with a carved bone handle, kept neatly out of sight along her thigh with a subtle strap. One never knew when such things might come in handy after all, and needing it or not, it was good to have on hand. The small handbag she kept with her contained no more than the usual items for ‘freshening up’, and nothing untoward in the least. Each of the men had a Spook device that linked over and into one ear attached to a thin mic that rested alongside their cheek. Nathi’s device consisted of a small ear bud receiver, her own wireless mic ingeniously worked into the collar of her dress.

They met with their assigned officer with the usual politeness, chatting contentedly during the ride to the house, with Nathicana commenting on the beauty of the home upon arrival there. The rich décor, warm holiday dressings, the beautiful mahogany, all created a most pleasant atmosphere that had Nathicana feeling quite at ease after a few moments of looking around – unmistakable tensions between certain parties notwithstanding. Mas and Pascali simply made a mental note to keep a closer eye on those who seemed to be trying to kill one another with mind bullets.

As she had expected, there were few attendees who had already arrived that she was familiar with, past security briefings on a handful – brief being the operative bit on that. But then, it was a party, and what better setting to make possible new acquaintances than a holiday celebration.

With a subtle hand signal to her guards, she made her way to the room’s focal point – the beautiful Christmas tree – to get a better look at the decorations, and perhaps, to pick up on some of the discussions along the way, admittedly cheating in using her augments to do so where she could.

“Well boys, this should be … interesting,” she observed with a close-lipped smile.

Life in the Workers' Republic had been quiet for the most part, over the past few years. Hasan Muhammad, the long-time Premier of Hallad, was now in his early forties. He had become Hallad's longest-serving Premier, winning four consecutive elections. The Halladi had been at his desk, when he noticed a new envelope on his desk.

"A Christmas celebration..." He read aloud in his accented english. "Christmas... Oh, right. That christian thing."

He made sure a secretary RSVP'd Jack O'Neill, and when the time came, he was on his way. An AirHallad plane took him to Northrop-Grumman, a nation he'd not seen in years. Scanned for weapons, which he had none, transport was arranged already, and he was on his way. He arrived at the O'Neill home, a massive spectacle in itself. Most urban Halladis, including himself, lived in large apartments and even so, he rarely saw something this grand. He driver let opened the door for him, and he stepped out. He was led toward the main hall, another grand spectacle that dazelled the eyes, and finally to the living room. He entered calmly and quietly, not particularly fond of getting too much attention from the crowd. Thought it was an unfortunate co-incidence that he had been dressed "presentable" for a foreign audience, by Halladi standards, in his old military uniform. The olive drab with red and gold highlights, crossed hammers, and hammers and sickles was bound to catch ones' eye.

Mariah smile "True, true. I am only young and my ability with the force is not mature. I cannot join the Light side as I am too unstable and yet, I loath the Dark side too. That's why I'm in the twilight but have to make the balance. I know I don't know everything about my powers but maybe a man like you can help me manage my abilities better. I am prone to misusing them - which means I need watch myself from tipping into the Dark side too much."

Drakomis raised a hard ridge-brow, curious to what this woman was implying. He was already Master to over twenty padawan's, personally training five whom shown true potential. That he knew of, only one was his actual Apprentice for the time being. True, he had several apprentices at one time, but that was over a hundred years ago. It had been so long...

He rubbed his claws against the chin of his snout, making a scraping sound in the process. His gaze was hard on Maria's. "I see, so you need someone like me to help you? WHat do you purpose I do?"

It was an honest question.

After their entrance, the two Kaymirilian Drow had stepped to the side to observe these Others before interacting with them.

Jaril had done a great deal of research on various cultures and their proper greeting rituals, although he knew he'd likely missed some. Even so, he was practically bursting to put the knowledge he'd gained into practice.

Eyarayin was simply looking around, eyes flicking over each individual. There were a great many hostile forces in this room, surely the sensative d' Kestal felt it too.

She'd glanced at the man who had called herself, her cousin, and the hostess of this party and her son "degenerates." He'd already marked himself quite distinctly as a 'target,' although she did her hosts the courtesy of not calling him out.

Military...if he were Kaymirilian, I'd never let him on one of my ships. We have no room for racists in a universe such as this.

"Jaril."

The d' Kestal turned his head toward his Drasderan second cousin.

"Xas?"

"What is the meaning of this 'Christmas' thing? You've lived among the humans, and you find it your duty to know cultural things such as this."

Jaril grinned, looking around the room. As he did so, he reached within himself and let a very powerful, but very subtle aura pulse out. This was a natural d' Kestal ability...almost a spell, but not quite. It was gentle, it was calming...it helped make hostile forces willing to sit down and listen instead of killing each other as soon as the web was spun. It was part of the reason the d' Kestals were such great diplomats, but far from the only part.

"Well..." he started, "I'm sure one of the humans could explain it to you better than I can, but from what I've been able to figure out...there was this guy some number of millenia ago, of a particular human culture called 'Jew,' and he had been predicted some time before by...eh, I think the guy's name was 'Isahai,' or something like that. He had certain mage-like qualities...predict the future, cure the sick...even brought someone back from the dead once...no, twice, as popular legend has it. Yeah," he said, nodding at the disgust evident by the slight twitch in his cousin's mouth, "he raised a dead guy, and a little girl. But human medicine was pretty bad back then, who knows what was really wrong with them. This guy, went by the name of 'Jesus' and the title of 'Christ,' had some teachings that shaped a major part of human Terra. His followers are called 'Christians' to this day, and many of the guests here are of different sects of this religion. Some are 'Catholic,' which claims to be the oldest or 'founding' sect of the religion, and others are 'Protestant,' which split from the then-only church as a protest of their policies, not least of which was extorting money for forgiveness of transgressions against their religious code. One of the founding beliefs of the religion, one that both sides agree on (save for some extremist sects), is that this Jesus Christ person was sacrified on a cross for their sins. Very painful death, you might like to interrogate someone like that someday."

"Jaril, to the point."

"Aie! Xas. There are two holidays in the Christian calendar to commemorate his lifespan. One is held yearly in the spring to commemorate his death, and this is called 'Easter.' It follows a time of fasting that some of these sects follow called 'Lent,' which lasts for forty-days. It took up the niche of some pagan holiday when the Christians conquered Europe. The other one, called Christmas, is also held annually on 25 December. It took up another pagan holiday that I think would have been much more fun, particularly since all evidence points to this Christ having been born in their month of March." Jaril shrugged. "The purpose of the holiday, or, as the humans have dubbed it, the 'reason for the season,' has gone from genuine religious thanks and reflection to a reason to have parties like this one, where there is family, friends, and conspicuous consumption. People out to kill each other being kept in close proximity has always remained optional."

At that moment, there was a crash from the foyer as Grace, Jaril's Gul, finally broke free from his belongings and fluttered through the room, looking for her master.

He smiled, holding his hand out to let her perch. Grace in her bird form looked like a cross between a silver peacock and a silver dove, with long tail feathers and a crest rustling as she moved, but the still-nervous and delicate movements of the dove. She warbled and cooed nervously as her master placed her on his shoulder.

"Xas, xas Usstan zhaun. F'sarn taudl, ussta lotha ssin, Usstan xunus naut ajak ulu inbau dos. Ol zhah jal ditronw nin. Dos ph' ghil, ol zhah sreen'aur," he spoke soothingly to the construct, as if she were more a beloved pet than a machine used for so many purposes.

Greg beams to be acknowledged by men of such stature. Fortunately for his dignity, he seems to have regained a bit of equilibrium since being overwhelmed by the initial encounter with Shiran and Jack. "The honor is all mine, I mean it." He takes the hand carefully, showing a bit of hesitation around the man's dangerous-looking claws. "What species are you? I don't think I've ever seen your kind before." He asks the question with youthful curiosity.

Across the room, Amy is grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts. "Quite well, Vice Chairman. I'll admit things were a bit awkward during the... unpleasantness a few weeks ago, but I'm happy to say I got more sympathy than anger from your people. Let's just say I'm happy that the incident is over and I can get back to doing my job rather than relaying angry demands from my government."

Greg beams to be acknowledged by men of such stature. Fortunately for his dignity, he seems to have regained a bit of equilibrium since being overwhelmed by the initial encounter with Shiran and Jack. "The honor is all mine, I mean it." He takes the hand carefully, showing a bit of hesitation around the man's dangerous-looking claws. "What species are you? I don't think I've ever seen your kind before." He asks the question with youthful curiosity.

Drakomis turned back to Greg, shaking firmly. Suprisingly, his claws did not seem to harm Gregs hand. He gave a wide smile, sensing the youth within. Drakomis enjoyed talking to younglings as well.

"I am Komodren. In Earthian Standards, my species resembles a 'Komodo Dragon'." He shrugged, rolling his eyes. "Not many people know of us, unless they meet us. But where everywhere and anywhere." Drakomis sighed then, "Honestly though, I almost became the last one. Back when...well....long ago."

Xavier grunted. "Why do I hate elves and their damned cousins, the Drow? Because they are degenerates, subsentients. They are a perversion of designed life, and I maintain my belief that not a single one of them deserves to breathe the air made for us -- the Kæsþiöndhrí, and the humans. As for your decorations..." Xavier motioned to Field Marshal Darii who stood up, walked behind Orlean, and took off the Ridgian's shoulderboards, and placed on the shoulderboards of a Colonel in the Greater Prussian Soli Deo Gloria Divison -- the one based in Derscon, and whose members are made up of Dersconi sympathisers -- members hand-picked by Dersconi commanders.

As the other guests came in, Xavier nodded towards Orlean. "Indeed, filth, all of them." Xavier touched Orlean's shoulder, causing a surge of energy to rush through the Colonel. "There, my protection for you. Lord knows that they are going to attempt to pull something, the vile scum that they are. It is best that we all remain centred. Darii and Karaka already have this protection." Sure enough, it happened -- When Jaril attempted to pull his subduing trick, it had no affect on the four in the corner of the room, to Xavier's -- and Damnonagaashi's -- delight. Idiots, all of them. Only Renor would understand, and even he retracts in fear at the mention of my name.

Indeed, Xavier thought back, continuing to have a shielded discussion of the being who lived inside him. When Nathicana entred, Xavier glanced up from the back, and raised an eyebrow. "Ahh, yes, of course. This would explain why I was still invited. A show of force, of course."


Count Franz von Papen also noticed the Dread Lady enter the room, and turned to Jack. "It seems you have had quite a reception by the international community, my friend. I congradulate you." Derscon never reached out to that community -- Derscon's position in Prussia effectively prevented that, as there were many anti-Prussians abound in that circle. However, as the anti-Prussian sentiment dissolved, Alexei was assassinated, and Xavier took office, killing any chance Derscon had to acquire friends in that circle of nations, which is one of the reasons Franz von Papen had resigned.

Jaril looked around the room, then at his cousin.

"F'sarn aluin ulu kyorl ka Usstan shlu'ta'naut honglath l' akh phor gaer," he said, glancing over toward Xavier, Orlean, and company.

Eyaraying made a soft sound of derision. "Nindel zhah l' Kult'ressin d' Derscon lu' fol shu kyorl d' Cherry Ridge. Usstan orn'la inbal nau telanth xuil mina."

Jaril smiled, shrugging. "Al, dos zhaun uns'aa."

He moved away from his Drasderan cousin and approached the small and isolated group, making a slight bow when he reached them. Although it irked him to drop his own nation's greeting, he wasn't going to use the formal greetings for their nations, seeing the relations Kaymiril had with them. Still, he greeted them with a smile and a friendly air.

"Greetings. I am Jaril d' Kestal, of Kaymiril. I realize that relations between our nations are not currently as well as they once have been, but perhaps we can put that behind us today, in recognition of our hosts and the hopes of everyone enjoying themselves as fully as possible, and keeping in mind the original reason for the holiday we gathered here to celebrate."

Xaiver caught Jaril coming towards him out of the corner of his eye, and positioned his chair so Jaril would not be able to get close to him, as Field Marshal Darii and General Karaka would be in the way, blocking Jaril from him and Colonel Orlean.

Xavier's coldness seeped out through his eyes, even though he put on a warm smile for the Kaymirilian. Vile scum, how I wish I could kill you now.

"Greetings, Jaril. What can I do for you?" He theoretically could have surprised Jaril and spoke in Drow -- granted, it would be Damonagaashi doing such (a Dersconi Prince would not know Drow) -- but would not taint his tongue as to allow such a vile utterance to come forth from him.

One of Jaril's ears twitched slightly as the Dersconi spoke. There was something very...very wrong about this one, and Kestral within him rebelled, desiring to be loose, desiring to be away, desiring to not deal with this creature or to deal with him permanently...but no. To be d' Kestal was to put up with things like this, ESPECIALLY at events like this.

No matter how wrong, so the Second Son of the Second House smiled mildly.

"I just couldn't help but notice you glare at every being that has entered the party and has pointed ears, and was wondering if, for the sake of our Host and Hostess, that you wouldn't be willing to put it aside for a few hours. After all, isn't it politics to smile at people you'd just as soon see dead, and to interact with them as though you enjoyed their company?"

Xavier smiled. Good, this one is nervous. Such a pity, shall I torment him more? A laugh within him resounded. Of course.

"To see them dead...what an appropriate description." He continued to smile throughout the exchange, though his eyes were boring into Jaril's, and Field Marshal Darii -- who did not share the racial sentiments that Xavier did -- began feeling nervous. Lord, forbid this from escalating...

"You see, Jaril," Xavier continued, never breaking his laser eye contact. "I made it to where I am now by avoiding politics, because it is a waste of my time." As is this conversation, he thought. "Now, I do not suspect you would enjoy my company any more than I would enjoy yours." Xavier was beginning to get irriated by this Drow, but didn't show it. Where is Tsar Kralena when you need him?

"Nin, zhah gaer jalbol dos ssrig'luin dal uns'aa? Zhah gaer natha sanrr dos doerrus ghil?" Upon hearing himself speak the language of the degenerates, he immediately -- but calmly -- drank the rest of his glass of wine, as to wash the impurities from his mouth.

Seeing the group in the corner about to get (possibly) confrontational, Taiki wandered over to see how everything was going, and to possibly calm everything down, if not at least create the illusion. He first bowed to Jaril, "hello! I'm Nakamura Taiki, of Pschycotic Pschycos. It's a pleasure to meet you." Turning to the others, he bowed as well. "Hello everyone. Like I said, I'm Nakamura Taiki. I see a few new faces. So, are we all getting along?" he asked pointedly, with a hint of it being more of a command than a question.

"I came here," said Jaril, persisting in Common -- even less happy to have Xavier degrading his native tongue than Xavier was to be speaking it -- "Because courtesy is required of one when one is a guest at someone else's residence, sir! And if you cannot display that courtesy to the other guests that have been selected -- nay invited -- by the O'Neills to share in their Christmas festivities, then, nesst xor phindar, you do not deserve to be here at all. Good day."

There was ice in the last words, and Jaril turned abruptly, almost bumping into the Shogun.

Once more he smiled easily, the tension in his body instantly relaxing and becoming fluid again. He made the bow customary to his people, with the arms spread slightly as a guesture of no ill-will.

"Gre'as'anto lueth verve dro, Tseii-Shogun Nakamura. I am Jaril d' Kestal, and it is an honor to meet you."

"Well, it's a pleasure, a real pleasure." Greg releases Drakomis and stands back, on cloud nine.

Amy continues on with Shiran, looking over his shoulder at Xavier. "Who is that dreadful man, anyway?"

"It is an honor to meet you too," Taiki replied.

Xavier smirked as Jaril stormed away. "Such an angry response over a simple question." He stood up and streched after he left, and motioned for those around him to do the same. However, he didn't want to pass up on the lingering oppertunity.

"Greetings to you as well, Shogun Taiki." Xavier shook the Shogun's hand, but sent a rush of energy through the connection, making him feel the pain that he caused his father in that battle long ago. Do not forget who I am, Taiki He released the Shogun and motioned towards the Dersconis and Orlean. "Come, I have better things to do than sit around here with degenerates and traitors." As they left, Xavier glanced over at Eyarayin and smiled, but with a heavy glare and a flash of red in the eyes. He shot a telepathic message at her before turning away. Nice to see you again, Eya.

The three Dersconis and Orlean slipped out of the room to the shuttle back at the airport, and proceeded back to Derscon.

Before Xavier's hand left his, Taiki shot a little of his own back at Xavier. Don't threaten someone you don't know yet The power sent was only a little, as he couldn't send more without revealing it to anybody else, but it was enough to get across the point that he had more.

Jaril watched the Dersconis leave, and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

If left in the wrong hands, that could have gotten ugly...

He turned back to Shogun Nakamura...another being with an interesting fashka flow.

"Our Valsharess had such respect for his grandfather...and yet I believe that one of our fleets was very recently threatening the annihilation of that entire nation."

Eyarayin, meanwhile, had kept eye contact with Xavier.

If you want to make something of it, come make something of it. If not, get the hell out on your own, you're not worth my time to kick out into the snow.

Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh Andropov -- who was still at the party, along with Count Franz von Papen -- was in that vicinity as Xavier stood up, to ensure that his brother didn't take things too far. Tarakh was really the one that kept him from exploding, more often than not, but that didn't take away from the Kynaz-Hetman's cold ruthlessness. He turned to Jaril after his comment.

"For your information, it was not you or Anagonia's fleets that stopped the annihilation of Northrop-Grumman. We could have handled both of your fleets and more. It was Veliky Knaz Ivan Rekjyavich -- you know him as Prince John -- that stopped Xavier from annihilating Northrop-Grumman, and only by dueling him in the Command Centre. This would be why the great Prince is not with us here today -- he had to flee into the Tundra in order to escape Xavier's far-reaching wrath. Xavier is, after all, Tsar, and has many more recourses and contacts than the ex-Prince does."

"Indeed. His father and grandfather were extremely well-liked, well-mannered, and honorable men. Xavier is nothing but a power-hungry traitor to Greater Prussia and Derscon. I was, personally, waiting for him to slip up."

A slight grin had begun to appear in the corners of Siri’s mouth when she heard the Cardinal’s comment, remembering that one night those many years ago. “But of course, Marco,” she replied with a smirk. “Nothing like a little bit of fun to liven up the day. Besides, it keeps us both young and healthy, don’t you think?”

A gentle arm wrapped around her back unexpectedly as a familiar voice spoke over her shoulder, answering the rhetorical question. “I know I agree with that. I’m one-hundred four years old and never felt this great in decades.”

Knowing exactly who it was that was standing beside her, she answered without even turning her head the slightest bit. “Hi, Jack.”

“Hey, honey,” he replied, giving her a small peck on her still slightly cold cheek. “You just love to make grand entrances, don’t you?”

“Always.”

As he glanced over beside his wife, Jack immediately noticed something out of ordinary and raised an eyebrow before he turned his full attention to the rather stylishly dressed Drow. It was his own son wearing popular Kaymirilian clothes that certainly stood out and looked outlandish among the typical clothes that humans around Northrop-Grumman wore.

“Alak?” Jack asked, pointing over to him. “What’s with the new clothes?”

Smiling, the young Drow glanced down and readjusted the crimson sash that tied his coal-colored silken pants before he brushed off the upper portion of the outfit. The clothes he wore did bare quite a few similarities to what Jaril was wearing at the moment as it was quite popular back in Kaymiril, but crimson was there instead of the blue that Jaril wore, which made a large difference in appearance. And around Alak’s neck, he proudly wore the pendant of his house, Aleanrahel.

“Well…I got them back in Kaymiril,” Alak stated. “And since they are pretty comfortable, I figured it would work well for this party.”

His father smiled. “Lookin’ nice. New threads, two new friends, now we need to set you up with a girlfriend, eh? What about E…” Siri already had an idea what he was going say and elbowed him in the side before he could even pronounce the rest. “Oof…ow…”

“Matchmaker, you are not,” she flatly replied to him, but out of the corner of her eye, the elf noticed a few people just leaving through the side doors out into the foyer. “Where the hell are they going?”

Jack glanced over and shrugged his shoulders, not really caring. “Apparently they’re leaving. We’ve been having a few problems with them, particularly Captain Orlean, insulting Drow and other elves in here tonight. Looks like they’ve finally had enough…good riddance.”

-------------------

“That is very good to hear, Ambassador.” Shiran nodded his head to her answer. “I am quite glad that this situation has been dealt with as quickly as possible and am certainly looking forward to opening up more pleasant dialogue with the Xanthalian Triumvirate in the future. Will you continue to be their ambassador to the Corporation in the meantime?”

Glancing back behind him towards the doorway, the Vice Chaiman answered. “I believe that is Xavier Andropov, Tsar of Derscon.”

Orlean chuckled a little at Xavier, "You handled those bastards quite well, Highness. I love how that little shit just slinked away. Those bastards can not even vocalize half of their insult, the cowards that they are."

The King looked over at Orlean leaving, and then his wife, "I believe you were right about Colonel Orlean. He took her hand in his, and they sat, sipping their drinks."

The Cardinal breathed a sigh of relief, and commented, "Both of them are so misguided. I can see why, as their fathers were both killed violently. That's not really an excuse for racism though." Before he said this, however, he said, "Looking quite young Siri, and as lovely as ever." He noticed her son, "Hey, Alakantar, you've changed much since I have last seen you."

Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh Andropov -- who was still at the party, along with Count Franz von Papen -- was in that vicinity as Xavier stood up, to ensure that his brother didn't take things too far. Tarakh was really the one that kept him from exploding, more often than not, but that didn't take away from the Kynaz-Hetman's cold ruthlessness. He turned to Jaril after his comment.

"For your information, it was not you or Anagonia's fleets that stopped the annihilation of Northrop-Grumman. We could have handled both of your fleets and more. It was Veliky Knaz Ivan Rekjyavich -- you know him as Prince John -- that stopped Xavier from annihilating Northrop-Grumman, and only by dueling him in the Command Centre. This would be why the great Prince is not with us here today -- he had to flee into the Tundra in order to escape Xavier's far-reaching wrath. Xavier is, after all, Tsar, and has many more recourses and contacts than the ex-Prince does."

"I speak only of what I know, and none of what I don't." Jaril's voice had only the mildest edge to it...Dersconis were not his favorite people right now, and he was more than slightly tired of their arrogance.

He turned back to the Shogun. "Well...it was your father and his grandfather only that my Valsharess had dealings with...and I wished very dearly to meet your father, but never got the opportunity. It is good to see that his heir carries on his legacy."

Tarakh ignored the edge -- he understood why Jaril would be upset, considering the leader of Derscon openly expressed his glee in the thoughts of genocide of Drow.

"Ah, yes, Shogun Kenshin..." Tarakh nodded. "A good man, and a very good friend of my father." When Jaril made the comment about seeing Kenshin, he sighed, but kept his thoughts to himself. If only I could tell them....


Count Franz von Papen sighed as the other Dersconis left the building. "I'm sorry about that, Jack. I don't know why he came at all, he knew he'd hate most everyone here."

"Ah, yes. Perhaps one day you will be able to meet my father. He's still quite alive. Though he hasn't answered his phone in days. Bah, he's probably out fishing and philosophizing again. But yes, he charged me with protecting our nation's honor and that of anyone else we could. I hope not to fail him."

"Ah, excellent. It's good to find another nation that practices handing over power to the next ruler while the old is still around to provide some ease of transition and guidance to the new."

"Yes, that is the long-standing tradition in the shogunate, all the way from feudal times," Taiki said, thinking slightly. "I think everything, mostly the death of Czar Alexi, finally took it's toll on him. Though...he said something about needing time to prepare. He was too vague, though, so I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Seeing Xavier's severe racism at you and your kind, I would love to see his reaction if he knew what I really was," Taiki said, chuckling slightly.

"As, I suspect," said Eyarayin, having silently walked up behind her cousin, causing him to jump as she spoke, "would he, if everyone knew what he is."

Jaril looked at her sideways. "Eya....?"

"I recognise that Fashka...I have battled it before."

"Indeed. That was the one thing that my Father told me when I took office. He said that I was to do whatever it took to stop him if neccessary...even if that meant exposing what I was." Taiki checked around for anyone else, then continued. "Do any of you know what a crusnik is?"

"A Vampire," stated Eyarayin. "A rare breed that preys primarily on other vampires and demons of the lower orders."

"Indeed. I am an artificial crusnik. We recently had a problem with a vampiric virus. I was to test the prototype vaccine/cure, nanomachines that would destroy the virus. But it went wrong, naturally, and now the nanomachines only enhance the virus to staggering levels. I bet that Orleans guy would completely blanch if he saw me like that, and even Xavier would be shocked.

"And yes, I feed on other vampires. The nanomachines are self-duplicating, and as sick as it sounds, the more virus units I have in me, the stronger I become," Taiki said grimly. "I'm guilty for this, but I was hoping that Xavier or Orleans, or even Phoren would do something stupid."

Jaril chuckled. "Everyone wants a reason to hit someone every now and again."

He then looked around at the small group assembled and smiled charmingly.

"Well, while we're busy trading secrets...he'd not have been done with me as easily as he'd have thought. In the universe, there is always one genetic line that is to serve as the guardian of the physical manifastation of Hope. At the present time, it is my line. All males in our family, and all females in our immediate family, have the ability to manifest a physical incarnation of this idea. It is primarily defensive or protective, but can...on occasion...be used as offensive."

"Any idea that ends with Xavier in a bloody pulp is okay in my book," Taiki said, laughing grimly.

Katrina heard her father comment on why Xavier has even bothered to come, and she said, "Daddy, he promoted Orlean to Colonel and transferred him to the Soli Deo Gloria division. Perhaps he wanted to meet him and somehow found out that he was coming?"

When the Cardinal heard the word "Crusnik", his head, out of habit, snapped over to the Shogun, and met his eyes. The Cardinal had done what some call brave, others foolish, and walked almost into a nest of vampires in the Shogun's realm. He shuddered, and his heart rate increased, before calming himself again.

Given the rather public nature of a party held in the same room, such poor behaviour on the part of some is rather hard to pass unnoticed. When you add in the benefit of Zero-One hearing augments, well, such scenes become just that much more … entertaining.

So this … is the best the Prussians have to offer? Bluster, rudeness, insults, and arrogance – and all this when they are supposed to be guests in another man’s home, the leader of a nation no less? So much for any such claims to superiority in any regard by the Dersconi. They’ve just proven they can’t handle themselves or manage their prejudices long enough to even get through a small party. How can they ever hope to have respect outside their own nation? Good riddance I suppose. I’m sure the press will have a heyday with that faux pas.

“Well, I’m not sure this is the proper time for introductions or not,” Nathi murmured to Mas, as the small group quietly watched further interactions. “Perhaps I should go and at least meet our host, and thank him for the gracious invitation.”

The two men subtly communicated their disdain for the rather shocking display of disregard for decorum via their usual hand signals, following the Imperatrice at an appropriate distance as she made her way across the room to where Jack O’Niell was, acting for all the world as if there were not people eyeing daggers at one another. Giving them more attention than they deserved would simply encourage bad behaviour, after all.

At the first opportunity, she put forward a hand in greeting, smiling warmly. “Chairman and Chairwoman O’Niell, it is such a pleasure to be here tonight. My sincere thanks for your gracious invitation. If I may say, you have a truly beautiful home – and the decorations are fantastic. Would that be your talented touch, La Donna Siri?”

"Any idea that ends with Xavier in a bloody pulp is okay in my book," Taiki said, laughing grimly.

"Kestal cannot defeat that," said Eyarayin. "There are other forces within our nation that could, though."

Antonette suddenly realised that, technically, he was the highest ranking prussian in the room. He twirled his drink, and stood up, Careful John, there is a thin line between apology and treason. "As the Archduke of Bavaria, and an officer of the Crown of the Greater Prussian Empire, I apologise for any offence made by any Prussian leader made during this party. Note that they are the leader's personal opinions, and not that of the empire, or even a majority of her subjects. Thank you." He sat down, and shot the Shogun a look, and concentrated hard, Careful....Xavier...perceive....treason.

Noting the Cardinal's reaction, Taiki went over to him and explained quietly. "No, I'm not in their camp. I was used as a weapon to defeat and destroy them. You can rest assured that Sano is six feet under." I am not worried about Xavier and what he may call "treason". At this point, I think no one would try to act against me if he declared me a traitor. The Shogunate can withstand an attack from Derscon, and I can fight him personally just fine. But thank you.

The Cardinal replied to the Shogun, "I figured that, and had my thought sthat you had something to do with what was going on, yet was never sure." He sighed in relief, knowing that the dreadful Sano would most likely not come after him again. Deo Gratias.

Jaril gracefully excused himself from the group with which he had been speaking and sought out the other Drow female in the room.

Smiling, he made a bow to her as he approached her, giving her the same respect he would give the Valsharess of his own nation.

"Ilharess Valsharess d'lil Ust Qu'ellar d' ShalThassan-Nal, vedui' lu' bwael daewle."

It had been quite some time since Ire’arra had seen another Drow and was pleased to be able to speak in her native tongue once more. After nodding to Jaril's greeting, she began to speak.

“Usstan daewl dos l' toha, Jaril d' Kestal, Drada Dalharuk d'lil Drada Qu'ellar d' Kaymiril,” she replied, bowing her head a little. “Ol zhah natha ssrigg'tul ulu kyorl jalbyr Ilythiiri ghil yallt.”

Jaril smiled.

"Ol zhahus biu bel'la tlu keffal khurzon tlu aske'th ulu doer," he said politely. It was, really. The O'Neills were good people...but the tensions at this party were making his head hurt.

Franz looked back at Katrina and shrugged. "That's possible, although he could have done that without coming here."

When the Dread Lady walked up to where Franz von Papen, King Antonette, and Jack O'Neill were standing, Count Franz von Papen bowed in respect to Nathicana. "Imperatrice Nathicana D’Aquisto, it is truely an honour to meet you." The Count said this with the upmost sincerety and extended his hand towards her. "I sincerely apologize for the actions of Ts...Xavier." The Count and retired Foreign Minister still had trouble even calling him Tsar. "Believe me when I say that his....actions and opinions are not necessarily approved of by the people of Derscon, or the Council." Franz von Papen didn't bother to tell her that almost all of the Dersconi Council of Ministers -- himself included -- resigned when Xavier finally took power.

"I would probably be hanged for treason for saying this, but, God Willing, Xavier will not be around for long.

"Please don't make an assumption about Derscon on the actions of him....even if he is in the position he is." Franz von Papen, having served as Foreign Minsiter under both Rekjyavich Ivan Andropov III and Alexei Alexandrovich Andropov, was not used to the complete lack of diplomacy and basic courtesy shown by Xavier, and was extremely embarrassed and worried over it. He said a small prayer that Nathicana wouldn't condemn all of Derscon -- himself included -- on the actions of Xavier. It's unfortunate he's actually running this nation, Papen thought.

Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh broke away from Taiki and Jaril and instead took a seat by the fire, simply being absorbed by the crackling glow of the fireplace. The previous scene kept running over and over in his head. He remembered what Prince John told him as well, and what he overheard at Joseph-Napoleon's Coronation Dinner. So. Derscon now looks like an international pariah, Greater Prussia looks like the German States after Napoleon I was taken down by the coalition, and there isn't any way to fix it. He sighed and glanced up at the tree and all of the cheerful decorations -- the crystal balls, the ribbon, the lights, the angels, and everything else -- and looked back at the door that Xavier walked out of a few minutes ago.

It sure doesn't feel like Christmas.

Somewhere between the commotion with Emperor Narqu and his disdain of Ire’arra and the abrupt leaving of Tsar Andropov and Colonel Orlean, Jack has apparently lost track of all who had arrived in that span of time and was quite surprised to find that he was approached by the Dread Lady herself, greeting he and his wife. He promptly grasped the woman’s hand and shook it firmly as he smiled.

“Thank you for coming, Nathicana. It’s good to see you again and certainly good to see one of our new allies in the NDA here.” He then motioned to his wife standing beside him. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Siri...and Siri, this is Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion.”

Siri’s gloved handshake was rather weak and oddly bony than what would be expected of someone of her appearances, but she was polite in her response. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Nathicana. I have heard many things from Jack about you…all good of course.” She also nodded to the question. “Why, yes, it was. Thank you for the complement. Though I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough of decorations for Christmas this year after moving from our little ranch to this monstrosity, but it looks like it will do for now until we finish the renovations.”

“Oh yes,” Jack interjected into the conversation, tugging at his son to come forward into this conversation. “This is our son Alakantar. He’s back for about a week or so from participating in a student exchange with the Kaymirilians.”

The Drow bowed then firmly shook her hand. “I am certainly pleased to meet you, Imperatrice.”

----------------------------

Ire’arra bowed her head to his remark before she continued. “Lu'oh ph' dos tejmook'cinkjuu bauth dosst zexen'uma wun Northrop-Grumman ji feir?” she asked.

"He could have Dad, but maybe he wanted to make a point in doing so. You know, make two points in one? Show up on the island he threatened to destroy, and picked up Orlean in front of his own King who he was supposed to protect. A game of arrogance." John nodded, and slipped his arm around her waist, obviously disturbed at what had been going on.

Ire’arra bowed her head to his remark before she continued. “Lu'oh ph' dos tejmook'cinkjuu bauth dosst zexen'uma wun Northrop-Grumman ji feir?” she asked.
Jaril laughed. What a complex question.

"Usstan y'sik saph ol, ulu tesso dos l' aster, Valsharess Ire'arra. Drill Usstan inbal screus nindel uss 'udtila naut du'nherz ssussun l' menvis d' natha abbil wun nindol k'lar, drill byr taga nindel, rivven kluth tlu natha bwael, ka b'vecko, akh d' aterrucen. D'ril, Usstan z'klaen telanth...Usstan lle'warin delmah ves desu."

Listening intently, Ire’arra smirked slightly, knowing all too well what he had faced.

“Siyo, Usstan zhaun lu'oh nindel zhah, Jaril. Rivven ghil zhaun ves lotha d'lil yorn nindel uss shlu'ta ehmtun lu' ph' huk'treemma d' ol, desu shar'tleg ulu ssissilluk qua'laen nindyn vel'uss kl'ae ol,” she nodded. “Drill, Usstan xun ragar mina tlu biu terini'nestg lodias tlu bauth lu' talinth mzil d' mina ulu inbal bel'la, naut saph byrren Usstan inbal doer naudal.”

"Ke, ke."
Jaril nodded emphatically.

"Usuliin d' TU' suulen ph' ghil yallt, 'zil al 'zil doeb wun l' tresk'ri."

“Siyo, drill ol ann'ishen nindel mzilst d' udossta priqualen ph' alus nin, ulu ussta ssrigg'tul. Usstan kyorl naubol mzild phla'ta ulu sha'nalt nindol tangisto.”

She motioned towards the side door that led into another hall. “Ori'gato udossa mumbaro pholor dal nindolen klezn...orn'la dos kyon whol natha drital, Jaril?”

"Gi, qualla. Jalbol ulu inbau doeb d' ghil whol natha stath klew'noren."

Jaril chuckled, following her.

"I believe so," Amy answers Shiran absently, watching the commotion over Xavier's departure and passively wishing she knew Drow. "Naturally, I'm somewhat at the mercy of my government when it comes to my duties, but I've served at the embassy here for over twenty-five years. I don't perceive that the Triumvirate has any reason to recall me." She returns her full attention to the Vice Chairman, letting go of the other conversations in the room. She's finding the elf quite easy to talk to, despite his reliance on formality. "And you? No sudden plans for an early retirement?"

Phoren blinked, as he finally noticed the newcomers... Drow. More Drow. He casually sidled towards the exit, then broke into a run, pulling something out of his pocket as soon as he was through the door and into the outside world, followed by something else, which he promptly lit and started smoking. Inside, Nala was twitching and apparently, stealing anything that came her way, her deliberately baggy attire now filled with dozens of ornaments.

A few minutes later, Phoren returned, smelling oddly like 'herbs' and bearing a relaxed smile on his face. His eyes were glassy, and he chuckled as he stooped to stroke one of the cats... And chuckled some more when it nipped at his fingers. He resumed wandering around, in a daze, not really looking for anyone or anything, just stopping and staring at ornaments, pictures and then, finally, Siri. "...Siri... Why do you have a tree growing out of your back?"

Ooc: going to switch this a bit for better flow …


Nathi laughed quietly at one comment at least. “Very much honored to meet you both, though if all you’ve heard is good, your husband hasn’t been entirely truthful,” she joked before greeting Alakantar in turn with her own firm yet ladylike shake and a warm, genuine smile.

“I’ve always thought that study abroad can be a useful thing. I hope your studies are going well,” she said, before politely excusing herself to respond to the Dersconi greeting as well, trying to balance the conversations without offering offense to any involved – especially seeing how testy some seemed to be.

If she noticed the lack of title awarded to Xavier, she didn’t show it, unwilling to draw undue attention, simply filing that little fact away for later contemplation with the rest. As for the rest, she arched one brow slightly as he spoke. Few were willing to go out on a limb to admit what amounted to treason, as he noted, especially against a leader who seemed to be as unforgiving and all too ready for bloodshed as Xavier was. Another question was why von Papen would be so willing to admit such thoughts to another known dictator, and one who was not allied in any way – in fact, had been found to be opposed, at least in policy, to the GPE in the past.

Unsubtle … what is he playing at?

“Mi piacere,” she replies with a smile, shaking his hand in turn. “I am certain they do not, Your Excellency. No need to apologize to me on his behalf – if h is not man enough to judge his behaviour for himself, and remedy anything that stands in need of it, it is hardly your fault, after all. But enough unpleasant talk, yes? It dishonors our hosts to demean their party with the likes of that. Mi dispiace,” she offers, the latter to the O’Neill’s with a brief inclination of her head.

For their parts, Mas and Pascali keep a respectable distance so as to not intrude whilst hovering within protective reach of their leader, for now their responses to one another kept to the silent hand signals, and those but briefly, their attention more on their surroundings, and any potential problems.

Drakomis realized that the conversations around him were directed towards whatever interest the parties had in mind. He smiled at the two he was conversing with, mentioned he would be walking around, and found himself walking off in deep thought. He clasped his hands once more, contemplating what had occured, what was occuring, and what might occur. He was a reptilian of thought, and enjoyed much of what he found in the deepest reaches of his meditations.

His tail dragged lazily on the floor as he went. He didn't take notice, head lowering and eyes distant as he went over to the fireplace. He gazed in its depths, observing what fire was there, and stood. His mind then turned to the Force, grasping gently at what others were doing at this very moment. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, breathing steadily.

The Force opened for him, and he found his thoughts going through the distance of time and space. He found his beloved son, David Zeus. He attached his mind to his sons, observing what David knew at that very moment. He smiled. His son was in a General Meeting of the Unified Congress, addressing an assembly of worlds that belonged to Anagonia's loose Confederation. Yes, his son had the right mindset. Unifying the Confederation back into a strong Republic was the key goal to Anagonia's future.

He felt David touch his mind as well, a warm embrace from two Force users. He nodded, embracing back, then left his son to concentrate on his duties. All was well with him, he concluded. He went on to other peoples, other places that harbored other Force Users he knew. He found them content, and those that weren't he comforted. He found only a few that weren't, finding they were close. Ah, padawans. Such a lovely venture.

He made a note to see his Apprentice after the party, he sensed much strife in him. The Grummanian had great potential. Conan Sierra was his name, belonging to nothing more than a simple construction family the day he sensed him. His parents welcomed the change in his life, welcomed Drakomis in their home. He was as much in debt to them as he was to Conan for allowing his training to commence on such short notice.

Since that day, he has been ever so proud of Conan.

Knowing what must be done afterward, he opened his eyes. He was unsure of what to do now. He looked about for people to converse with, but found no interest. Perhaps someone would come to him, he hoped. But he knew that was an improbability. Drakomis has allowed his anti-social tendecies to come forth again, holding onto it. He always said being as old as he was deserved such tendencies, but he knew that was just a biased view of his mind.

He strecthed his body then, not so much to make himself known. Easily popping joints without much movements, twirling his shoulders, twisting his tail base and tail, bending his knees, and finally cracking his neck in a swift motion. He had to do something, he didn't want to disappoint Jack. No, not after all Jack had done for him. Where was Jack anyway?

Shiran folded his arms and shook his head to the question. “Retirement? No, I highly doubt that I would do such a thing for I have been holding the position of Chief Operating Officer at the Corporation for only thirty years and few know how to keep its rusty cogs rolling better than I do. I certainly cannot leave, especially at this time of change in its history.”

----------------------------

When she neared the side door, near the Christmas tree, Ire’arra glanced back at Nala and merely smiled as she left the room, not saying a single word. As soon as the Drow had left, the O’Neill’s ornaments contained in the princess’ clothes began to rattle and shake violently before they popped out and fell to the stone floor, some of the glass balls shattering upon impact. But those that survived began to rapidly spin around her feet, creating an irritating scraping noise.

John and Katrina looked over at the noise, and blinked, and stared and watched to see what scene would unfold. John glanced at his wife for a second, their eyes met, and they glanced back at the girl.
Cardinal Marco walked over, glanced into her eyes, then down at the mess, and then gave her a stern look. However, he then motioned for her to move away from the glass, to not harm herself, then stopped down, and began gathering the intact ornaments into a small pile.

John and Katrina looked over at the noise, and blinked, and stared and watched to see what scene would unfold. John glanced at his wife for a second, their eyes met, and they glanced back at the girl.
Cardinal Marco walked over, glanced into her eyes, then down at the mess, and then gave her a stern look. However, he then motioned for her to move away from the glass, to not harm herself, then stopped down, and began gathering the intact ornaments into a small pile.
Eyarayin had been silent up until this point, but now she strode forward to stand beside the Cardinal.

"You could cut yourself like that."

She raised her hand, and the little shimmering pieces lifted off the floor, whirling around in a glorious dance of color and light as each piece tried to find its other parts to reassemble the whole.

It took but a minute before the orbs reassembled, and a quick spell later, they were back to mostly-normal.

"I find that things so much more prefer wholeness to fragmentedness that putting them back together is almost as easy as taking them apart."

She then turned to the Cardinal, extending her hand to shake.

"Eyarayin d' Drasdera."

Marco stood up, and watched the things, with some amusement, reassemble. He dusted off his hands, and when the drow next to him spoke, he turned, and held out his hand, out of habit, ring facing up. Quickly realising that he had done this, he grabbed Eyarayin's hand, and replied, "Joseph Cardinal Marco. Kaymirilian, I am guessing?"

"Indeed. And the reason I came to speak to you was to gain some information. Your clothing placed you as a member of a human religious order, in which, I suspect, your title ranks you."

She looked at him, face as expressionless as ever.

"We do not celebrate religious holidays in Kaymiril, human or Drow. Thus I have come quite unsure of what the purpose of this gathering is. My cousin explained to me the version he was able to gather. Perhaps you would be willing to tell me the..." she searched for the right word briefly, "official one?"

The Cardinal smiled slightly, and looked at her for two seconds, as a father looks at a young child, before replying, "Your perceptions were correct with regards to my attire. I am a Cardinal of the Catholic Church, which means that I am of the body that gathers together to elect the Pope, who is the Vicar of Christ, who is God incarnate. I am also a Bishop, the Archbishop of Carmel. This is the highest order of Holy Orders, above the priests and deacons. However, I was a priest before I was ordained a Bishop. By the way, the Catholic Church is the original Christian Church."

He continued, "I mentioned Christ, or Jesus, earlier. We are celebrating his birth today, the day he was born of a Virgin, Mary. He is the Son of God, yet is God at the same time, the one true God." He sipped his drink, and continued, "He was a great teacher, and taught for three years, and performed miracles, and forgave sins. At the end of this time, he was crucified under Pontius Pilate, at the urging of the Jewish High Priests." When he said crucified, he pointed at his pectoral cross, before continuing, "This death reopened heaven's gates, and saved us from death. Amazingly, he rose from the dead three days later, of his own accord. This celebration commemorates his humble birth in a stable."

He looked at her, and said, "By the way, the mainstream human dating system is based roughly off of his birth. Does that explain it for you?"

She raised an eyebrow at his explanation.

"I believe my cousin's version made more sense. You will have to forgive me, I am in no manner familiar with your religious terminology."

"Quite so, quite so..." Amy brings her hands to her sides, feeling much better now that Xavier and his goons have left. She smiles with pursed lips. "The O'Neills certainly have many... interesting friends."

Greg, meanwhile, has ambled off to the tree, where he is inconspicuously listening in on Marco and Eyarayin.

Never truly one to enjoy the political rambling that his parents engaged in, Alakantar politely excused himself from the conversation between his parents, the Imperatrice, and the Dersconis and sought out his friend Eya, whom he noticed was with the Cardinal at the moment.

Seeing that no one was speaking, he cut in before anyone else could, “Excuse me, Cardinal. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing Eya for a moment.”

“Hey, Dad,” he quickly called over to his father. “Here’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Excusing himself as his son did earlier, Jack moseyed on over to where Alakantar was.

Eyarayin was about to tell the human belonging to one of the various nations that if he was going to listen, he may as well participate, but then Alakantar had drawn her away and called his father over.

"It is good to meet you again, Chairman...although at one point it was debatable whether circumstances were better or worse."

“Yes, they most certainly do.”

Shiran carefully watched Phoren Narqu stumbling around, babbling about the most idiotic things imaginable, and nodded towards him. “The Chairman and Chairwoman are married because of him, and also he saved the Chairman’s life during the Civil War. Although, right now, one cannot tell it is the same man who would do such things.”

--------------------------

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “Though it couldn’t have been any worse than a month ago, during that whole mess with the orbital weapons platforms. This, at least, was something I could’ve dealt with easily if they hadn’t left when they did.”

"Perhaps...although I cannot tell you how much I wished to see whether that one...'Captain,' I believe his rank is...had a jaw of bone or of glass."

In either event, it would have been shattered beneath a sharp blow from the pommel of an adamantine blade.

Jack chuckled. “I wouldn’t have stopped you either. He deserved a good belt in the face.” He then said a little quieter, “But I am glad that Siri didn’t hear anything that he said, or he would've been leaving here in a body bag and then I would have had a helluva mess to clean up.”

"Yes, I agree...control of herself would do the Chairwoman well."

There was no reference to what had happened, no change in facial expression or tone of voice...just a flat agreement.

And that’s why I carry a tranquilizer gun, Jack thought and almost said out loud, but then decided not to for the sole reason of dismissing the notion that his wife was a bit…uncontrollable, to put it mildly.

“Perhaps…” he answered. “But diving into that topic though is a large can of worms that you just don’t want to open. I wouldn't even mention that to her if I were you...”

"Then I will be certain to not do it again so long as I remain her guest."

Nodding slightly in agreement, Jack smiled then suddenly froze as he realized what Eya had just said. “Wait…again?…why on Earth would you say that to her?”

"I believed it a perfectly fair comment after the ground I was standing on was torn asunder and a small space vessel very swiftly made its way to that same position."

"Quite so, quite so..." Amy brings her hands to her sides, feeling much better now that Xavier and his goons have left. She smiles with pursed lips. "The O'Neills certainly have many... interesting friends."

Greg, meanwhile, has ambled off to the tree, where he is inconspicuously listening in on Marco and Eyarayin.

After Xavier had left, Taiki wandered back over to where Amy was. "I must apologize for some of our...peers' actions. I assure you that Xavier and his posse have quite a unique take on things. Most of the Greater Prussian Empire is no where near that extreme." Taiki sighed, "they make my job so much harder. They're extreme and rash, and I sometimes have to end up moderating."

"I don't make a habit of attributing the actions of one man to the policies of an alliance of billions simply because he leads one faction," Amy stops Taiki's apology. "You have no wrongdoing to answer for."

One word managed to fall out of Jack’s surprised expression. “Eh?”

“Uh…yeah, Dad,” Alak replied, somewhat uncomfortably. “When Mom met us at the airport, she…attacked…Eya with your longsword then kinda went overboard and tried to kill her as time went on.”

“And you’re in one piece?” Jack asked Eya with an eyebrow raised.

"It was not a difficult battle."

The Cardinal nodded at Alakantar, "Certainly." He looked at the drow, "I will explain later, or refer you to other sources. God Bless." The Cardinal wandered across the room, and joined the bigger group with John and Katrina.

Jack stared at Eya, unsure of just what to say. He never really knew anyone who had fought Siri and won before as all opponents were usually beaten fairly badly or even worse, dead. But standing before him was a Drow who appeared to have no injuries at all, definitely a rare feat.

“Umm…whew…that’s certainly impressive…but…this begs the question…how?”

"With a pair of shortswords, my feet, and a simple levitation spell."

The blow to the face had been purely aesthetic.

"She did manage to land a blow. A medium cut on my leg. Easy to treat."

Wandering around rather uneasily, Hasan evesdropped on few conversations. He heard bits of the story of Christmas, and was trying to understand the Drow in the room. He'd never been around Drow before and felt rather uneasy about being around non-humans. Eventually he saw a familiar face, albeit one who he'd not seen in quite sometime. Jack O'Neill appaeared to be entertaining a Drow guest, and the Premier had his reservations about getting invovled. Still, he hung around, not particularly interested in talking to the wrong people -- ie, Prussians. He had seen several familiar faces from his dealings with the Greater Prussian Empire, and certainly was quite happy with never dealing with them again.

“Oh and she pulled a maneuver that was pretty cool,” Alak explained, excitedly. “Mom had thrown a knife right at her. So Eya positioned the tip of her shortsword so that the tip of the knife struck it head on and popped it up into the air. Then, again, using the tip of her sword, she caught the knife by the hilt and popped it up into the air for a little while. And finally, with the flat side of her sword, she smacked the knife’s pommel, sending it flying through the air before landing between Mom’s boots! It was amazing!”

Glancing over to Alak, Jack shook his head in disbelief, surprised that all this could have happened, and paused for a moment before he replied to his son. “I…erm…whew…could you go into the kitchen and grab me another beer…I think I need it after hearing all this…”

Alak nodded and quickly left the room for the kitchen.

"I apologize. I thought she was prepared for the first kick. Until she became angry, I was attempting to end the match in a draw. I never desired anything save passing the test she had set before me, as it was her right to do. But once things progress beyond a certain level...points must be made."

Flanked by a gaggle of smartly dressed bodyguards, a short, indefinably ugly man enters the main room and makes a quick, calculating glance to absorb the current situation. His eyebrow quirks, but a slight smile crosses his lips as he observes one person in particular.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
>> This is a little tense for a party, isn't it? Should I have stayed home for the Midwinter Bloodfeast?
}

He turns and waits for AdminCoordinator to catch up with him, relishing the opportunity to make an unforgettable entrance flanked by a giant alien insect. "I'm glad you decided to come," he says sincerely.

“No…no need for you to apologize.” He waved it off, sighing heavily. “Siri should be the one apologizing to you…she has a short fuse when it comes to just about everything. I don’t know why exactly, I never really get an explanation. But the point is, you need to know how to deal with her.”

"She did apologize," admitted Eyarayin, before looking to the new arrivals.

"But it appears you have other guests who would like to share your time, as well."

He turns and waits for AdminCoordinator to catch up with him, relishing the opportunity to make an unforgettable entrance flanked by a giant alien insect. "I'm glad you decided to come," he says sincerely.
"Well, is it not only polite to accept the invitations of new allies?" The AdminCoordinator's voice, as synthesized by the circular grille in the metallic cube she holds in her blue mandibles, finds a compromise between politeness and a touch of dry humor. "If we are going to tie the survival of the panNorm to others, it would be for the best if we were to meet and understand them... although," the speaker volume drops to a whisper as she hunches down conspiratorially, "I am somewhat concerned that this is the first thing I see." The tips of her antennae, vaguely fuzzy with hair, draw circles in the air.

Straightening back up, the decidedly ant-like creature surveys the room with head motionless, complex compound eyes glittering green-gold in the light. Joints between blue carapace members fade into a mottled green, and her thorax and abdomen are covered in intricate designs of yellow paint that indicate her OverCoordinator rank. Over this she wears a harness of thin webbing, pockets containing various things like styluses, small boxes, pads of paper, and a large pouch that looks like it could fit the device she holds against her maxillae. Beside the rococco, if geometric, patterns on her body the rest is highly utilitarian, sleek only because it functions best that way. Two meters from mandible to gaster, it looks like the ants... well, the ant, at least, has come to the picnic.

That no real emotional information can be gleaned from the spacedy ant's immobile, chitinous, essentially faceless head cannot be understated.

http://www.weirdozone.com/projects/nationstates/s14/blue1.jpg

Hasan took a moment, then walked in toward were Jack was. "So, you've gone from supplying the Communists with weapons to having parties with space ants. O tempora, o mores!" He said in heavily accented english, jokingly, to break the awkwardness.

Amy is struck by the newcomer's apparent similarity to a than, from the buglike physique to the synthesized voice, even the confident and purposeful tone. However, this creature is more well-spoken than any than she's ever met, and there are definite differences; the intense color being among them. Her attention follows her eyes to the technicolor, super-sized ant. How long has it been since I saw a than? she wonders to herself in passing. There are none on her staff, but not that long. A year perhaps. Still, she was unaware that any other sentient species like them resided in this part of the galaxy. Obviously, even a diplomat trained in interspecies relations doesn't know everything. "I'm sorry, would you excuse me?" She takes her leave of Shiran and Taiki without giving them a glance, drifting towards the alien.

"Sir," she addresses her as she approaches. "Hello. My name is Amy Tyler. Could I have a few minutes of your time?"

Nathi turns to smile warmly at the newcomers, raising one hand slightly in greeting. An added bonus, this. And an unexpected one to boot – one she was rather grateful for, all things considered.

Remembering for a moment a particular club scene in Deveras some time ago, and the subsequent ‘solving’ of some issues there, nevermind the fact that this was not a red, gave her pause in mid-wave.

Il dio, I hope no one says anything overly … stupid. Such hopes are dashed as the Xanthalian approaches AdminCoordinator for a chat.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
>> This ought to prove an ... interesting night. I’d half thought you’d chosen not to come, Dev. Surely they can manage the preparations without you for one night? Yes, there have been some tensions – the Prussian bluster I’ve half come to expect, given past goings on. It’s no wonder they left. Our gain, no doubt.

Dare I say you look rather dashing tonight. Dare I hope for the continued pleasure of your company afterwards?
}

"Sir," she addresses her as she approaches. "Hello. My name is Amy Tyler. Could I have a few minutes of your time?"
The Blue (http://www.weirdozone.com/projects/nationstates/s14/bluebug.jpg) bows cordially at the Xanthalian's approach, using the differential of her two sets of hips to tilt her torso rather than relying on the waist she really doesn't have. Her carapace has a natural sheen to it, but not quite a shine, the light scattering mildly off of her bulbous braincase, antennae, mandibles and the rest as she moves. Nothing like the near mirror-finish of those eyes, so black they're darkly golden and green along the edges. "Greetings, Amy Tyler. I am AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All, representing all of the Mothers of Us All on behalf of the Coordinated Hives of the panNorm." She returns to her normal stature, which puts her at about compound eye-to-eye level with your person of average height.

"As these sorts of things tend to be naturally unstructured," she continues, a quiet humor in her words behind the stilted formality of her diction, "I have, as it is said, 'all the time in the world' and you are certainly welcome to a few minutes of it." She turns her head towards the Dread Lady, nods, and waves a bony manipulator 'hand' back with a flick of her antennae; while the movement is clearly artificial, having no need to turn her head to see her ally, she makes it seem natural enough for a completely learned motion as she turns her head back to Amy. "I do not know whether your culture considers gender specificity to be a virtue in personal address; if so, then I am genetically female and 'ma'am' would be more accurate. If you use 'sir' as a gender-inspecific title, however, that is perfectly acceptable."

She draws circles in the air with her antennae, chuckling politely. "Not that any offense is taken or would be taken, but genetic males are rare in our society and serve very specific purposes. The assumption of... femininity would perhaps be safest, if such trivia interests you." The voice suggests a smile; the 'face,' well... could not if it tried.

“Hmmm…yeah, it looks like it,” replied Jack as he glanced over his shoulders towards these new arrivals standing near the doorway. “Well, excuse me for a little while, Eyarayin. I have to greet some more people…but I still definitely get back to you later on and tell you a few things you ought to know about by wife.”

After resting his empty beer bottle upon one of the nearest end tables, Jack was beginning to head back to the other side of the room but was stopped by yet another guest he had apparently missed arriving. A little surprised that he had done it again, he paused briefly before finally firmly shaking the Halladi Premier’s hand.

Laughing, Jack replied to the man, “Hasan! Long time no see! I’m glad you could make it to the party.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his son emerging from the kitchen with a beer in his hand so he waved the young Drow over and took the drink from his hand. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met my son. Alak, this is Premier Hasan Muhammad of Hallad….Hasan this is Alakantar O’Neill.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Premier,” Alakantar responded, bowing slightly. “I have heard about Hallad here and there from my father. You are a communist nation, correct?”

Seeing that his son and the Halladi Premier were going to be engaging in some pleasant chit-chat, Jack politely excused himself from another conversation in order to make his rounds around the room so that he could meet all the guests that he had missed. He first set down the full bottle of beer on another available end table and approached his wife, who was still amongst Nathicana and the Dersconi.

“Hon, there’s some new arrivals we ought to head over and meet. C’mon,” he whispered into her ear as gently he took her by the arm, pulling her away from the group.

On their slow-paced way over to meet those who had just come from Treznor and S-14, Siri carefully examined the appearance of this strange creature standing before them, noting its ant-like appearance. “Is that…?”

“I don’t really know…I guess so,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He really didn’t have a clue what this creature was, but it looked like an ant so that’s what he thought of it as…at least, until someone directed him to the proper term for its species.

Remembering the usual nonsense that she always heard from Jack, Siri’s eyes turned from the ant and gazed up into his as she whispered, “Jack…for the love of God…don’t make any ant/Raid jokes…”

He chuckled slightly as he patted her on the back. “I won’t…I wont…don’t worry about me…”

Upon reaching the two new arrivals, Jack was the first one to step forward and speak to them as he extended his hand for a handshake. “Good evening, folks,” came the greeting. “Thank you for coming to the party. I’m Chairman Jack O’Neill and this is my wife, Chairwoman Siri O’Neill.”

Upon reaching the two new arrivals, Jack was the first one to step forward and speak to them as he extended his hand for a handshake. “Good evening, folks,” came the greeting. “Thank you for coming to the party. I’m Chairman Jack O’Neill and this is my wife, Chairwoman Siri O’Neill.”
The Blue rotates on her legs after a quick, polite apology to Amy and accepts the hand offered. Her manipulator looks and feels for all the world like thickly built bone without a scrap of muscle on them; four-fingered, blue overall and sea-green at the joints. Her professional grip puts the lie to the thought she has no strength, though, and it has the feel and consistency of warm plastic. Chitin is a biological plastic, after all.

"Salutations, Chairman Jack O'Neill, Chairwoman Siri O'Neill. I am AdminCoordinator 67521 of the Blue Mother of Us All, representing all of the Mothers of Us All on behalf of the Coordinated Hives of the panNorm." Her antennae draw vertical-plane circles in the air again, and her voice continues to hold a wry humor behind the dry but enthusiastically polite speech. Then the humor drops out. "We are glad to meet new allies, bound together as we are by mutual survival and success. We hope that our interactions will be synergistic as we work together for the betterment of all in the Alliance. How do you two fare?"

Amy excuses her with a smile and a nod, waiting with expertly concealed anticipation for the O'Neills to conclude their greetings. She has so many questions to ask this... AdminCoordinator. Damn, she curses herself, having already forgotten the number, even after hearing it twice. Hopefully it's not important.

"A pleasure to meet you, too, Alakantar." He said quaintly, though he'd been unaware Jack had a son he just went with it. "Well, Hallad is far from being communist, but it is part of the nations ideals. For too long the foreign imperialists ruled over the Republic -- socialism was bound to happen."

As he firmly shook the manipulator of the Blue, Jack smiled graciously and nodded to what she was saying, generally pleased that the AdminCoordinator took the time to come to the party this evening. But before he could reply to the question she had asked, his wife responded, “We’re doing fairly well and are certainly overjoyed that this many people could turn out tonight. It’s good to see allies of old and new spending time together here with us.”

Noticing that the Xanthalian ambassador had wanted to ask a question of the Blue before the couple had came over, Jack politely nodded towards her and replied to them both. “Please, you two may continue on with your conversation. We just wanted to stop by and say hi to the new arrivals. There will definitely be more time for all of us to chit-chat later.”

Siri smiled before she turned from the Blue. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

----------------------

When Ire’arra and Jaril stepped into the main kitchen, it would be quite apparent that it was rather large by most people’s standards. First of all, lining the opposite wall from the two were rows of mahogany cabinets, containing various sorts of canned foods, spiced, and other goods within their closed doors, but inside two of the largest were four ranges, each one containing a sixteen pound ham, slowly baking them and filling the room with the fragrant aroma of the meat. Nearby were two massive stoves, with all of their six burners holding at least one large pot that was covered with a lid, which contained an automated mixer so that the food inside could be left unattended for long periods of time. Below these burners were the two ovens, each one baking fresh rolls for the dinner. In the center of this room was a long island of cabinets with the side that faced the ranges and the stoves containing cooktops built into the black granite counter tops. The opposite side was raised up and was meant for someone eating a quick snack as it had wooden barstools lined up against it.

Stepping over to the far side of the kitchen, Ire’arra pressed a button upon one of the twin black doors of the refrigerator and examined a digital inventory list for everything inside. When she was done, she turned back towards Jaril and spoke, but this time not in Drow.

“In the refrigerator, we have soda, root beer, iced tea, eggnog, milk, Guinness beer, and a variety of wines. You may have any one of these.”

----------------------

“Interesting,” Alak responded to the Halladi Premier. “I assume that that has been working out for you rather well in recent times, since I haven’t really heard any commotion coming out of Hallad ever since I can remember.”

"It works out well enough." Boasted Muhammad, "Everytime we have capitalism in our nation, I have seen nothing by tyranny and dictatorship. I was a political prisoner, myself, at one point. Many years ago, when that bastard Mustafa Fenris seized power and crowned himself 'Emperor' of Hallad."

Jaril chuckled, switching back to Common without even so much as a pause.

"It sounds like some of the humans I attend classes with. It's early yet to start drinking, so I'll just have an iced tea."

“I’m sorry to hear that happened to you, Premier.” The young Drow thought for a moment before he spoke once more. “I must say though that hearing that capitalism doesn’t work out for your people makes me wonder if that there are some systems of economy or even government that just don’t work in a particular society. Like here in Northrop-Grumman, socialism just doesn’t work out that well or even democracy as we can see now…”

----------------------

After bowing her head, Ire’arra reached into one of the cabinets and snatched a small clear glass. She then opened the doors of the refrigerator and strangely disappeared inside for a few minutes before emerging with the glass filled with iced tea.

She rested it on the counter in front of Jaril and stated, “Iced tea is the Vice Chairman’s preferred drink. I find it rather enjoyable too.”

"Mm, perhaps. I personally prescribe to the inernationalist view of socialism, in that we may never achieve communism until the world has overthrown capitalism... but that is a long and tireless debate." Muhammad paused for a moment, to contemplate how he would say his though. "Alakantar, you are a 'Drow,' yes?"

A little glad that the conversation wouldn’t end up in a pointless debate, Alakantar smiled and glanced down at his dark arms. “Yep, I am definitely Drow.”

Hasan snicked, and looked down in embarrisment for a moment. "I am sorry. I, uh, have never seen Drow before, only in pictures. And even then, perhaps less than a handful, so I am, how do you say... unfamiliar with your people, I guess. I've met only one or two elves in my lifetime, and they were not Drow."

Rene exited the SUV and thanked the driver. She stood for a moment, feeling the snowflakes landing on her jacket; it felt oddly foreign, despite the fact that snowflakes much the same now fell on Tsaraine ... now that they didn't melt in the radioactive glow of the Wastes.

They hadn't for thirty years, she realised, and felt suddenly old; was it that she had seldom gone topside since the Event that made this scene more reminiscent of childhood holidays in Kynarai than the new forests now spreading across Tsaraine?

I am old, she thought ruefully, However well the rejuv hides it.

But there was time for reminiscing, and time for having fun; this was, presumably, the latter. It was said, after all, that you were only as old as you felt ...

The interior of the mansion was, however, a similar blast from the past; the Clan Seingult estates in Kynarai were of a similar age, though nothing in the Mother Country proper could boast a pedigree so extensive, after the Obsidian Event.

It said something about the residents of such a mansion, that they'd state that casual dress was required ... what was it about corporate ogliarchies that made them dance the bleeding-edge of social change, the blade borne by the demon that was chaos? The Hack was even worse.

Hence, of course, the jeans and t-shirt she wore. She felt underdressed, particularly after leaving her jacket in the hands of the staff ... never mind the fact that she'd worn such attire before, in her youth. Although in her youth the t-shirt would never have born line 22:8 of Sound Governance; "Command of the State is the duty of the highest in virtue."

Right, Rene. You're only as old as you feel.

Supressing a slight sigh, the Arkhora went forth.

OOC: My web access shall be erratic for the next few weeks, but I shall endeavour to continue posting.

“We’re doing fairly well and are certainly overjoyed that this many people could turn out tonight. It’s good to see allies of old and new spending time together here with us.” ... “Please, you two may continue on with your conversation. We just wanted to stop by and say hi to the new arrivals. There will definitely be more time for all of us to chit-chat later.”
"I look forward to it, then," the synthesized voice coming out of the squawkbox held in the AdminCoordinator's mandibles says with a fluid sincerity, "and I hope you have a pleasant evening, Chairwoman Siri O'Neill, Chairman Jack O'Neill." She bows shortly, once again thanks to hip differential, antennae waggling slightly before she turns back to Amy with what appears to be a polite nod.

A facial expression would help here, but the spacedy ant's antennae mimic raised eyebrows for a moment, with a cant of the head and a tilt of the shoulders somehow suggestive of a smirk. The voice helps a bit. "I do apologize for the interruption, but I am glad our hosts are 'making the rounds,' so to speak, and introducing themselves. You now have my undivided attention."

She sounds kind enough, but the unblinking stare of those compound eyes make the claim of 'undivided attention' seem quite true, perhaps unnervingly so.

"Of course, Madame AdminCoordinator." Amy puts a very slight emphasis on the 'madame.' "And my own apologies are in order for trying to steal you away before our hosts had a chance to greet you." She adds an appropriately shallow bow. "I will confess that your appearance took me somewhat by surprise. Tell me; are you at all familiar with a sentient species of insectoids called the 'than'? Or with a country called 'Xanthal'?" She looks into the Blue's baloon-like compound eyes searchingly, though there is certainly nothing to be found there.

The Blue pauses for a moment--a still, freeze-frame pause rendering her a statue more than a breathing creature--then nods once, head following a single oscillation up and down. "We do have record of both, although I do not think we ever had direct contact with either. I know we also just barely avoided contact with a species known as the Gurlanai; this is perhaps for the best. Given our own history concerning our image and what variations upon are... anathema to our genetic predispositions, and collating that with reports from one of our Blue Scientists concerning her particular contact in The Resurgent Dream, I think it would be safe to say that a knowledge but lack of actual contact actually turned out to be the best possible circumstance for all parties involved."

She chooses her words carefully, taking on a more tiptoe pacing to match the diction. "It is not exactly a secret that we are the most... open-minded of species when it comes to various physical forms due in large part to fifteen million years of history and the supposed need to maintain genetic purity in the species. Something in which our ancestors, the Norm, clearly failed in. This is a continuing problem the panNorm have seen for some time and still address up to this day. I suppose, in a far less verbose answer to your question, no, we are not familiar with either Xanthal or the 'than' but perhaps that was for the best then and as for now..." She slowly taps the tips of her antennae together. "Our acceptance of alternate 'insectoid' forms can only be tested through actual contact, so it may be worth experimenting with currently, although I truly can make no promises concerning the result."

Like the members of other notable societies of the past and even the current era, the AdminCoordinator is conscious that she must tread lightly when it comes to history that could be considered too... unenlightened for polite conversation.

"I see." Amy uses the phrase as a placeholder while she takes a few seconds to mull over the opening lines of what, for her anyway, is first contact. She suspects the panNorm have some manner of biological or technological, if such a line can even be drawn in this day and age, link to one another or a central database. The pause is one she's heard before from a number of people; remote information retrieval. It's an enviable ability, if a dangerously exploitable one. The name and the number are also grounds to suspect a hive mentality, if not a genuine collective intelligence. Most exciting. Enough though. Perhaps too much conjecture at this stage would be unwise.

Ambassador Tyler proceeds with the same caution of her counterpart. This AdminCoordinator seems reasonable enough, but in the game of diplomacy it is much too easy to make a false step. "No presumption about the compatibility of the people in question was intended. I ask only out of personal curiosity. I have never seen a member of your species before. I don't believe I've even heard of it before today. If you know of the than then you may understand my surprise, having never seen another insectoid species."

Amy hesitates, then draws in closer, clasping her hands together in front of her body and tilting her head slightly to the right. "I may be out of line for asking, and I'll take no offense if you choose not to answer, but if the panNorm have a tendency to isolate themselves, what brings you here?"

Treznor's lips quirk into a wry smile. It isn't often that he feels upstaged, but on this occasion he doesn't mind. The PanNorm always elicit a response when first introduced, and he's merely thankful this time the response didn't include small arms fire. Plus, it gives AdminCoordinator a chance to continue practicing interspecies relations; thus far he's been pleased and impressed by the skills they've displayed. He only half-regrets WarCoordinator isn't here.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
>> I know very well they can prep oxen for slaughter without me. I'm glad for this opportunity to get out of the palace. It's been far too long since I've taken a break. I've missed you, Red.
}

"Jack," he says quietly once the initial excitement over the PanNorm has passed. "Thanks for inviting us. I brought a little something for the festivities." He offers a pair of brightly wrapped packages, already screened by security. "Don't drink it all at once."

"I may be out of line for asking, and I'll take no offense if you choose not to answer, but if the panNorm have a tendency to isolate themselves, what brings you here?"
"It is less a matter of us choosing to isolate ourselves and more a matter of us... choosing our battles, as you would say? although perhaps the metaphor is somewhat too combative." The voice piping from the box smiles at its own pun. "We are here because this is our first opportunity to get to know, on a personal rather than an official policy level, our newest allies. This is rather important to the panNorm as a whole because by becoming allies with Northrop-Grumman we have tied our collective security, survival, and success together, and those three things are extremely important to the panNorm. While we did not exactly have much of a say in choosing this particular polity as an ally through the Alliance, we had no reasonable reservations and our trust in the Council's direction has not been misplaced yet."

The spacedy ant cants her head slightly. "I suppose the only circumstance in which we could be said to be truly evasive or isolationist when it comes to contact are other 'insectoid' species due to an ingrained history of what most outside observers call 'eugenic racism with a somewhat religious flair to it.'" She sounds as if she's quoting an article, and she is. "A few million years of such a mindset leads to a precedent most hard to break and while we have always at least tolerated endoskeletals--as they are too alien to be any sort of variation on our own body type--exoskeletals on the other hand, particularly 'insectoids,' are another matter altogether. It goes back, as many things do, to history."

Drakomis stood by the fire for what seemed like an eternity, having no other interest but himself for the longest time. Every movement he made was slow, and gentle. His tail was a perfect example of this. It swayed against the floor, making a soft rubbing sound each time. Deep thought penetrated his counciousness. His tail exposed this to those who knew Komodren psycology.

His arms were crossed, his chest rising and falling in a gentle manner. His reptilian eyes concentrating on something far beyond the fire that burnt in the fireplace. Nothing else in the room mattered at this point, nothing. Then, his PAD beeped, and his dazed ended as he reached into his pocket and grasped it into his hand. Pressing its screen he read the message.

Taking his time to read and go over its contents, he contemplated what the PAD offered his mind. Then, putting the PAD back into his jedi robes, he sighed loudly, an almost grunting hiss. His tail thumped LOUDLY this time, raising and falling. He seemed annoyed, showing signs of stress. He closed his eyes, growling a hiss, snorting, then opened them.

He concentrated then, calming himself. Repeating something underneath his breath several times. Drakomis seemed to relax. His tail continued its rythamtic sliding against the floor, and he showed little signs that anything happened at all.

"Perhaps I must go...I don't know." He gazed at the Xanthalian in the room, then the ant creature, then back to the fireplace. "I'm not sure."

"We are all ruled by our past," Amy agrees, "but those that cannot move beyond it are frequently held back from further achievement. It's always pleasing to see a new nation move to join the international community. It may be no surprise to hear this from someone in my line of work, but I think there's too much we can learn from one another to hide away from the rest of the universe." She beams. "How long have you been serving in an ambassadorial role, AdminCoordinator?"

As the ant like critters entered, Katrina saw them, and gripped her husbands arm, "John... What the hell are they?" John glanced, and shook his head, "I have no idea. I doubt they'd attack people here, but..."
Katrina cut him off, and said to him, "I...hate...bugs." John told her to calm down, and she took a drink, and began to relax.
The Cardinal looked over and shook his head, thinking, What have humans done?

"Ruled?" The Blue cants her head yet again. "Oh, no. If we were still ruled by our past we would still have the occasional limited nuclear war inside a pressure vessel, which is by any sane reckoning an extremely poor idea. Our history gives us our context; we are not ruled by it but it does dictate what game we must play, as it were, and what strategies we must take if we are to survive and thrive as a species."

She quietly ignores the 'international scene' business as, in reality, given how this is not a conference it does not qualify. The panNorm are quite content with being equivalent to a regional power and, well, diplomatic and military interventionism or adventurism has never really been their cachet. Especially military, as their military interventions (all one of them, so far) have been of a decidedly total nature. The WarCoordinator and the Mothers of Us All do not believe in applying the species only halfway towards a goal, especially a goal as closely linked to survival as defense. She also ignores the glances from others that, with near three-sixty vision, she can't help but see; there's no real point to address it until it comes up, is there?

"I have been serving in an overall administrative and chief-diplomatic role since I reached intellectual maturity, at which point I took my position upon the scheduled termination of my predecessor, AdminCoordinator 67520. The exact time I have been serving this role depends on who exactly one asks and in many cultures it is considered impolite to ask a lady her age." Soft chuckle. "Not ours, of course, but it is an effective way to evade the question."

Nathi was excited to see Rene, and couldn’t help remember how things had been when first they met. Shodey did amazing work, to be sure. It would be good to do some catching up there at the first opportunity. At the very least she needed to go meet and greet.

She also noticed the lizardy type over by the fireplace looking agitated, though over what she had no idea. On further observation, she opted to leave him well enough alone, as obviously he desired some distance, or he’d be socializing with the rest, and having seen angry Sakkrans had no desire to further irritate this herpeto-whatsis.

First and foremost however, she really needed to see that thrice-damned man. It was true, it had been far too long. And even when it wasn’t it seemed like it. This long-distance relationship was workable enough in many respects, but the children had changed all that, and lately, it seemed between holiday and governmental obligations, on top of trying to be a family, there hadn’t been nearly enough time for just the two of them.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
>> If you have a smaller craft here, I brought the Loki, with that lovely suite vK whipped up, and the whole place stocked well enough for both security teams to wile away the time … I’ve missed you too, Dev. Look forward to showing you just how much.
}

“If you will excuse me,” she said apologetically to the Dersconi, offering a slight bow of her head before making her way towards Dev, and AdminCoordinator, and those in the general vicinity, including the recently-arrived Rene. She tried to get Rene’s attention and wave her over to join them, then slipped her hand around Devon’s, squeezing gently, and made a respectable bow to AdminCoordinator so as not to interrupt either discussion.

"Ah." Amy isn't too surprised by the frosty response, but she still finds herself resenting it. Perhaps more like the than than either of us realizes. She's hardly qualified to talk, being anything but an expert on Xanthal's resident insectoid species.

Amy is puzzled by the second part of the Blue's reply, and her face shows it. How could her time in service be a matter of who asks about it? She doesn't ask, for fear of offending the AdminCoordinator. Recognizing the danger of becoming embroiled in a dispute with someone who may be the sole diplomat of an entire nation, and for all she knows is transmitting every word and action to the rest of her people, Amy yields the points in contention. She's learning more about this species by the moment; like the number attached to the description of the individual's function: at first she had thought it akin to an employee number, but it sounds more like an order of succession.

"You obviously perform very specific duties to serve the panNorm." The Ambassador forges ahead with her investigation of these people. "Does your species have a telepathic bond, or are the functions of each individual determined by genetic variations?" She tries to keep a professional tone, but any keen observers can see a definite touch of personal interest. Though she often seems burdened by the monotonous demands of her profession, the same natural curiosity that led a much younger Amy Tyler to accept diplomatic training still manifests itself whenever something new and unknown takes her interest.

Treznor accepts Nathicana's hand and squeezes it gently as a physical reminder of his affection.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
>> We took one of the PanNorm shuttles down, much to the chagrin of Colonel Brick over there. I think he'd be much happier if we were to fly home in a Dominion craft. I suspect the man might be more than a little xenophobic; gotta have his psych evaluation updated.

>> You think your pilot could arrange a little time in zero-gee? I suspect we would find it very...relaxing.
}

His face betrays nothing of the silent conversation beyond a familiar twinkle in his eye.

"You obviously perform very specific duties to serve the panNorm." ... "Does your species have a telepathic bond, or are the functions of each individual determined by genetic variations?"
"A mixture of the two, although 'telepathy' perhaps suggests something more pseudoscientific or metaphysical than is the actual reality. We are all connected by what I suppose one could call radio telepathy, which results in the formation of an overmind that is generally self-regulating. Think of it as a Gaia hypothesis expanded to a constantly-communicating set of poorly differentiated individuals rather than the traditional concept of a hive mind. Broadly, a specific panNorm's duties are limited by what daughter species of the Norm they are; Blues such as I tend to be administrators, navigators, and scientists, specializing in 'pure' sciences and the like due to our traditional habitat around the computer and navigation portions of Alpha; Reds have speciated further into Engineer Reds, who mostly act as applied scientists--engineers--and hardware operators and Soldier Reds, who are probably described well enough by their title. Greens are null-gravity adapted agrarians and life support managers; Minis are a collection of miniature panNorm who are primarily repair technicians. We have all adapted to our particular roles that way.

"Individual purpose is determined by the needs of the Hive at any given point in time. Eggs are laid and pupae bred dependent upon the gross population needs at any given time; pupae are allowed to become fully mature once a role has been found for them in the society, essentially to fill a gap in the overmind. Excess prenatal and natal resources, or those that do not meet the specifications of tolerable genetic drift range, mental capability, physical strength, and other such parameters are recycled back into the life support system to ensure a minimal waste of biomass.

"The overmind itself is coordinated and given direction by the OverCoordinators, of which I am one and could arguably be argued as the chief, although my own contribution is not as vital as, say, a queen to her queendom. My fellow OverCoordinators include my sister, the SciCoordinator, and my cousins the WarCoordinator, the TechCoordinator, the EcoCoordinator, and the EngCoordinator. We set goals on behalf of the Mothers of Us All and our society functions, although we individually are no more important to the whole than any other. We are just as easily trained and replaced."

The ant suppresses a shudder at her endoskeletal allies squeezing manipulators as they always do. Must they always bring attention to their fleshyness and their abnormal attraction to breeding activities undertaken solely for chemical pleasure? It is irrelevant, in any case. "How does this compare with the 'than' you mentioned, Amy Tyler?"

While Taiki certainly strived to be a tolerant person, he had a problem with bugs and anything with more than 4 legs...nothing that was personal, just a phobia of sorts. So naturally, when a very large one walked in, the color drained from his face. Quietly and unceremoneously, he sidled along the wall to Jack. "Sorry, Chairman O'Neill, but I have to...er...leave. Nothing personal to anyone, just a general fear of large bug-like things. Make me all queasy like. No one wants to see me puke and faint. So, I'll just head on out...." He continued sidling out the door and broke into a fair run until he slipped on a patch of ice.

Jaril grinned.

"Well, tea has many benefits, and no ill effects, unlike other...xsa...oh, pardon, ussta Jalil. I remembered that I have yet to speak with either Chairman O'Neill or Vice-Chairman Naelthasser."
_______________________________________________________

So they will ignore a being's sentience based upon what its outward appearance is?

The thought filled Eyarayin with something resembling disgust.

She'd been standing by a wall, relatively aware of the activities of the room, but much of this was first-contact, and if it wasn't, she didn't really know...best to allow a d' Kestal to handle it.

Where is he, anyway?

Still, Katrina's comment touched on a cord of wry amusement, and Eya bent down and picked up something before approaching the Cherry Ridgian royals.

"You have fear of insects, do you? Then perhaps you will wish to carry this around for...'protection.'"

Her hand, which had been loosely cupped, came up and opened, revealing a spider that was almost an inch in diameter.

"You'll want to be gentle with her...she's fairly old for her variety."

When Katrina saw the spider, she screamed, and gripped John, who stepped forward, and said, calmly, "I would appreciate it if you would leave my wife alone, and not worsen her fears." He looked back, and his wife was completly pale. He pulled a chair over, and said to the Drow, "Please, get that disgusting thing out of here."

"Disgusting? No. You're disgusting. Both of you. If you cannot sit through a few hours in the company of other sentient beings, regardless of their outward appearance, you are cowards and bigots, seeing things only in ways your narrow minds can understand them, taking no views but the narrow ones of your damnèd religious text. You're pathetic, and your weakness sickens me."

Eyarayin glanced at Katrina again.

"And tell me...where would your rouges be without the sacrifice of millions of these 'disgusting' bugs...where would your nation be without spiders to keep them intact? Isn't the greatest detriment to your environment your squeamish and bigoted race itself?"
__________________________________________________

Jaril was just taking a sip of his tea when he sat up, feeling the cold aura being emitted by his second cousin.

"Oh dear...when she gets like that, people tend to die slowly and painfully."

Katrina replied, in a nasty tone, "Anyone who plays with spiders is disturbed. Now get it away from me!" John helped her to her feet, and said to Eya, "Thank you for such a wonderful conversation, and proving your civility. Good night."

The Cardinal noticed what was happening, and called the transport plane to send a vehicle to pick them up. While he was doing this, John felt his wife's forehead, which was slightly warm, and led her over to Jack.

"Jack, I wish to thank you for such a wonderful evening. You may have observed the events over there," he motioned to Eya and where he had been standing. He gave a brief summary of everything that had happened in full, before continuing, "We are leaving." He produced a bottle of Berchman-Seaboard Red Wine, quite expensive, and extended his hand.

“It’s alright, Premier.” Alakantar chuckled. “I lived for twenty-one years before seeing another one of my kind and even after that, two years ‘til I had met any more. But for the most part, I’ve been around humans for almost all of my life with the only elves I ever interacted with were the Chairman and any from the remainder of the incredibly small population that Northrop-Grumman has.”

-----------------------

Smiling widely at the gifts, Jack grasped the pair from Treznor and examined the wrapping paper closely while he tried to feel what was inside. But when he was unable to figure out just what, he was about to hand them over to his wife to place on the side, and instead found her walking over to the recent arrival from Tsaraine.

“Thank you!” he replied to the man, hearing that it was probably some sort of drink. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy these.” He then tried to juggle the two packages in one hand as he extended his hand for a handshake but found himself interrupted by the early exit of Shogun Taiki.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Jack responded to Treznor before he turned his head towards the distressed man and answered him rather sadly, though with a hint of irritation in his voice. “I’m sorry to hear that, but if the AdminCoordinator bothers you that much, then feel free to leave…I’m not going to stop you.”

The Chairman was about to speak to Treznor but was interrupted yet again, this time by the Ridgians. The irritation within began to grow as he replied to them, “Oh for cryin’ out loud…you all too?!”

Amy sighs. Between the bigots and those challenging them, the mood at this party has become awfully unfriendly. She's beginning to form the general opinion of Prussia that the Archduke had protested earlier. How many squeamish and overtly racist leaders does it take to make a trend, anyway? She folds her hands behind her back and tries to ignore the argument going on across the room.

"The than are a rather interesting case. Early records of contact indicate a hive mind, a collective sentience directed by a single... queen, if you will." She is thinking back to her early education, in the diversity appreciation class every Xanthalian student must take. "Just over a millenium ago, a few members began displaying individualistic tendencies. The reason is a matter of some debate, one difficult to resolve due to the loss of most records dating back to the period during the Age of Disunion. But I digress. The than have become almost entirely individuals, though there are still some primitive ties between their minds. Their population is concentrated on two planets in the Than System, where the majority continues to conduct its affairs in a highly interdependent, closed system aided by modern communication innovations. However, there are a good number of mavericks that choose to lead their lives completely independent of the hive, frequently moving to other worlds within the Republic. Xanthal," she clarifies.

"While they have become individuals, they are still born with distinct physical and mental characteristics that make them suited for specific types of work. The different breeds are usually referred to by their color differences, not unlike your own. Silver than are the ancestors of those that once upon a time served as queens. Amber than are laborers, sapphire than are scientists, red than are engineers, emerald than are warriors..." she pauses, as if trying to remember more, then continues with a barely-discernable shrug. "Because there remains such a strong biological imperative for the than to perform the tasks for which they were bred, very few deviate from that career path." Amy stops herself with a smile. "I'm afraid my knowledge is somewhat limited. I have been significantly involved with only two than in my lifetime, and both in a professional capacity. It's embarassing really; we share a country, yet I know so little about them."

John's anger rose dramatically, and he stepped very close to Jack. "We would have stayed, if a spider was not shown to my wife!" He gripped the bottle of red wine tightly in his hand, "I have a duty to my wife, first and foremost, and I will not have her be abused in any form. Are my reasons clear?"

“It’s alright, Premier.” Alakantar chuckled. “I lived for twenty-one years before seeing another one of my kind and even after that, two years ‘til I had met any more. But for the most part, I’ve been around humans for almost all of my life with the only elves I ever interacted with were the Chairman and any from the remainder of the incredibly small population that Northrop-Grumman has.”

The Premier apologized, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be awkward or anything. Truth be told, I know nothing about your race, and it made me a bit uncomfortable. And you can call me Hasan, if you'd like -- no need for formalities." At that a smile was brought to his face. "So, how old are you, Alakantar? Have you studied at a university yet?"

Abuse...how pathetic they are, if they cannot stand the sight of one of the planet's gentlest creatures.

Eya held out a finger to the spider, letting her legs and mandibles feel her for a moment, before stroking her once and putting her gently back on a wall.

Now I know how to go to war against these people, should ever the need arise. Play to their foolish phobias.

Jack carefully set the packages on the stone floor and made sure that they were out of the way of people walking. He then folded his arms and replied to John, raising his eyebrow, “That is your only reason? A common house spider that doesn’t bite?”

-----------

Carefully watching the scene between his father and King John out of the corner of his eyes, Alakantar nodded to the Halladi Premier, trying to keep his attention away from the ruckus. “You can call me Alak, if you like,” he smiled as he replied. “I’m twenty-three years old at the moment, still pretty young compared to most Drow, and I have been attending the University of Wilmington for four years already and am currently a part of a student exchange program with the nation of Kaymiril.”

-----------

“I suggest you do not worry about Eyarayin and just remain here, Jaril,” Ire’arra answered with a knowing smile. “First, I believe things will handle themselves, and secondly, the Vice Chairman will be entering the kitchen some time in the next several minutes.”

It's embarassing really; we share a country, yet I know so little about them."
"I do not know about 'embarrassingly,'" the AdminCoordinator replies in a kindly voice, "it is a bit too much to expect everyone to know everything after all, no?" She completely ignores the arguments brewing over her presence, so completely that it's even an unpointed ignorance she aims at the raised voices. It's not her problem that she's a panNorm, and here she is surrounded by creatures so vile they put their organs outside of their skeletal systems and yet she's not causing any trouble. Personal problem, really, and not one that she's going to concern herself with as long as it remains peripheral to her and her goals.

"It is fascinating though that evolutionary pressures would converge so. I doubt that the Than would find two planets a very limiting environment, especially with free movement between them, so that tends to indicate that their subspeciation was not environmentally induced, or was rather perhaps the result of some sort of ancient environmental pressure. This is something the SciCoordinator would find most intriguing indeed because while the Norm itself varied far more widely in the Home Galaxy than any individual panNorm caste does now, it was still a single interbreedable species... much like your multiplicitous variations on humanoids. You all look vaguely similar--I apologize if my speciesist taint shows through--and you can all interbreed no matter what color you are. Even variations such as the pointed-eared endoskeletals like our Noldorin allies are interbreedable and capable of making stable hybrids with other humanoids despite being different species. The Norm never reached that extent, but it never varied so far from its Norm either. We posit that means the Norm eugenic program actually predated the Alpha expedition to this galaxy by quite some time, at least to the point of interstellar spaceflight."

She pauses for a moment, naturally. "I am sorry for rambling, but my kind do have a predisposition towards hypothesizing openly. This is something we should investigate further, if for no other reason than to compare our speciesation and evolution with a broadly similar yet completely alien species. While there will probably be some old ingrained biases we will have to get over, that has simply been the way of things even up until now. I would ask for your comments... and still do, mind, if you have them... but I do not want to force you in the matter of a field that is not your specialty." While the wording is somewhat condescending, the tone of the last sentence is very gentle and polite, as if she really doesn't want to impose. "I merely go on about it because, as the closest thing the panNorm have to a leader in your sense, my knowledge base must be necessarily broad, if not particularly deep.

"Still, we have been talking a great deal about me and mine; not that there is anything inherently problematic with that, but I do not wish to monopolize the discussion. Could you tell me some more about yourself, Amy Tyler?"

John said, "'Twas nearly an inch in length!" Before he could continue, Katrina, in her anger, reverted back to her original accent, the accent of one from the south of Derscon, "I don't care what it was, Chairman O'Neil! I do not want anything like that near me, common house spider or not!"

She collapsed back into her husbands grip, after he had stepped forward, and John raised an eyebrow, "Well, Jack? Now that you've ruined her evening, I hope you feel excellent."

Hasan, too, took a glance over toward Jack and the Ridgians. He thought something along the lines of 'I'll give that ass a reason to leave.'

"Ah, sounds like a good experiance." He said, glad that the akwardness was over. "What are you majoring in? Something juicy and political I should hope!"

“I’ve ruined her evening?” Jack snapped back, becoming furious that this was all being placed on his shoulders. “First off, it’s a small spider…all houses have them and this is a millennia old house. You have to expect these things here...that is not my fault…I did not choose to have them here. Second, you just about ruined my evening and other guests' earlier by bringing a xenophobe in here who wouldn’t shut his mouth the hell up.”

----------------------

Alak shook his head. “Actually, no. I’m majoring in business administration and am hoping to work towards a Master’s.”

John rolled his eyes and laughed openly, "Jack, Jack, Jack. I was supposed to know his inner thoughts, and that he would desert me? Then again, he isn't the only one who deserts, now is he?"
John kept looking straight into Jack's eyes, while at the same time supporting his wife's body. His eyes, however began to grow tired.

"Well..." Jaril settled back down. "If you're sure. I don't like leaving her in situations like this, though. Members of her line are a slight bit...edgy."

"Oh, what's to tell really?" Amy says with increasingly forced good humor. The Ridgians are grating severely on her nerves. "You may say it apologetically, but you're right; most of us mammalian sentients do share more in common than we would generally acknowledge. I grew up on a planet called Freeland, of the country Trasnia. I'm sure you know of Earth; aside from geography it's almost identical. It's since become part of the Xanthalian union. I have a husband," she points to the heavyset form snoring audibly in a chair by the fire, "and a son," she searches around the room and doesn't see him. This isn't too worrying, but it does tempt the question where he's wandered off to in someone else's house. "...somewhere around here, I hope. I also have another child, but he's moved back to Xanthal." Interrupted by Jack's outburst, Amy's patience finally comes to an end. "I'm sorry, Madame AdminCoordinator. There seems to be an imminent crisis at hand."

She turns and goes over to Jack and John, her voice thick with irritation. "Gentlemen, I realize this has been a stressful evening, and I may be out of place as your guest Sir," she executes a small nod in the Chairman's direction, "but if this kind of exchange persists, I'm afraid I'll have to ask that I and my family be driven home."


Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Greg walks in on the two drow occupying the space. "I'm sorry... I went to find a bathroom and seem to have forgotten the way back to the living room. If you could help me..." He stops, hearing a series of muffled shouts from down the hall. "Uh, perhaps it would be better if I could stay here for a while?"

John rolled his eyes and laughed openly, "Jack, Jack, Jack. I was supposed to know his inner thoughts, and that he would desert me? Then again, he isn't the only one who deserts, now is he?"
John kept looking straight into Jack's eyes, while at the same time supporting his wife's body. His eyes, however began to grow tired.

Almost about to snap out yet another response to the irritating king, Jack was interrupted by the Xanthalian ambassador, a rather welcome interruption for he was about to say something he would regret. He took a moment before he responded to John.

“I have tried to be nice to you. I have welcomed you into my home with open arms. I have tolerated more than what I should have. And what I have received? Nothing but grief.” He huffed. “You stand here and wrongly blame me for things. You and the rest of your party, Orlean included, continue to get the other guests upset….I am tired of it all and I will not have any of you ruin my nor anyone else’s Christmas…just leave.”

--------------

Ire’arra nodded to the young man that had just stepped into the kitchen and stepped over to the refrigerator. “You are more than welcome to stay with us for as long as you wish, Gregory.”

She then opened one of the doors and took out a brown glass bottle, popping the top off of it with merely her hand before handing it over to the Xanthalian. “Perhaps you are in need of that beer that you had almost requested earlier.”

"Gre'as'anto lueth verve dro," said Jaril in greeting to the Xanthalian boy.

"I am Jaril d' Kestal."

Greg approaches Ire’arra with a mixture of caution, suspicion, and wonder. "I... thanks. Have you been spying on me?" He takes the bottle and looks at it like the liquid inside might be poisoned.

He turns to acknowledge the other Drow's greeting. "Um, hi." He returns Jaril's sentiment half-heartedly. "I'm sorry, I don't speak... whatever language that is."

"Drow...and it roughly translates to 'hello.'"

The older Drow smiled. “I am Ire’arra Aleanrahel, and no, I have not been spying on you, young one. There are certain things that I just know.”

The AdminCoordinator listens to Amy's describing of her homeland and her family, then nods politely as the human excuses herself to go give some people a piece of her mind. She still seems completely oblivious to the bickering, although the annoyance showing in Amy's demeanor (and her pheromones) do cause the space ant to raise one blue antennae in a passable mimicry of a raised eyebrow. Once Tyler actually does leave, the ant suppresses an internal sigh and does some calculus of the good. Good of the panNorm, of course. If I add myself to what is already apparently a rather tense situation in an attempt to settle things down, I will look reasonable in the eyes of our new allies and eager to help but as I am the probable cause of those humans' distress it would probably only make things worse for them. I could offer to leave to ease their minds, but that would be taking a stance of inferiority... and a calculation best left for later. At worst I would simply cause the situation to explode further than it apparently has.

I could simply leave, thus easing those human's irrational fears but that would be rude to my host and, again, dismissive to the need of the panNorm that I establish cordial relations with our allies from a position of equality.

Or I can simply continue to look oblivious to the world around me and only get involved when I am directly mentioned.

She ponders this for a few seconds and decides that a compromise is in order. Simply leaving is immediately discarded. Jumping in at the moment is discarded as too rash--Good thing I left the WarCoordinator at home. She simply makes herself as unobtrusive a part of the scenery as a giant blue ant in a mansion can, 'looking' at the various bric-a-brac that people and places generally have in these sorts of settings while paying attention to the argument with air-tasting antennae, being close enough to reasonably overhear (not hard given the raised voices) yet far enough away to not be a part of it yet. Of course, she would find it easier to fake interest in the paintings on the wall if the panNorm had a concept of art for its own sake, but as it's doubtful anyone can accurately read her stance anyway she discards that as a pointless little worry.

John nodded, "Much like a traitor." He began to walk, his wife still leaning on his shoulder, "We will be needing our jackets. Would you mind retrieving the for us?" The Cardinal walked over to Jack, and said, "Alert Siri to my departure, please, Excellency. Thank you for the drinks." The Cardinal, after speaking to Jack, turned and went outside to the waiting transport he had called for.

When he passed John, he looked more stressed than usual. He whispered, "Berchman's a seperate diocese now, thank God." John nodded, "Who off of your list did they pick?" The Cardinal replied, "No one, thats the problem. George Antonelli." John looked shocked, but recovered, before holding the door for the Cardinal.

John helped Katrina over to her Father, who she embraced. If one felt her skin, they would notice that her skin was getting warmer. She held on to her father, and whispered everything that had happened. she stepped backwards when she was done, and would have tripped, had both men not have caught her. John placed her heated body against his, and again hobbled to retrieve his coat.

All that could be seen from the darkness of the closet was a shining flash of silver before three coats impaled on a blade proceeded the Drow Warlord out.

"Watch your remarks, Duke John Antonette, for you become cumbersome in polite company. And if illness befalls your wife over something so small, she is more a spoiled brat than a fit duchess. Our Valsharess would be appalled."

The black hair with its vein of white waved back and forth behind her, like the serpents emblazoned on her clothing. Her voice was even, but her eyes had a slightly red glow.

"It is impossible to betray hypocrites."

John looked at the coats and remarked, "What a rude thing to do. No matter, there are more in the transport. However, I am happy to see that you literally came out of the closet. Tis King, by the way."

When his wife was insulted, however, he looked at her, and said, "You do not know anything else about my wife, or what she has gone through. So kindly, feck off."

When he was called a hypocrite, he shrugged, "You say so."

'Coming out of the closet' had no cultural context in Drow.

The priest's coat was on the end of her pile, so she flicked it at him without harming it, but threw the coats in Antonette's face, ripping them both slightly.

Then, in a rare act of kindness, she sheathed the sword.

"What I have observed is enough to tell me that neither of you would survive two months in one of the Kaymirilian Noble Houses, high or low. Get out of my sight, child, instead of continuing to rattle and hiss."

She brushed past him, going back toward the main room and making one final comment before entering it and shutting the door behind her.

"Real serpents don't do that unless they have full intentions of striking."

von Papen, seeing the Kaymirilian show Katrina the spider, stepped in between them. He turned to Eyarayin. "While I can understand your liking to spiders -- I personally am fascinated by them -- I do not appreciate you deliberately provoking the fears of my daughter in order to get a rise out of her. It makes you no better than Xavier or Orlean, really, treating others as objects of amusement to be played with and then discarded when they are no longer useful." He took the spider from Eya's hands and brought it outside, letting it go, before coming back.

Franz von Papen watched the spectacle from behind, not interfering. Why, Lord, would you permit this? Kynaz Tarakh turned around in his chair near the fire and looked over, as well. I wonder if the Chairman will kick them out?

Lo and behold, he did. von Papen shook his head, shamed at the behaviour of both sides. Before she left, Katrina latched on to him, and Franz returned the embrace, guiding her outside with the Ridgians, until reaching the door, where he let King Antonette take over and returned to the party. He walked back to Jack and simply sighed. von Papen -- well over a hundred years old, although you would have never been able to tell, until Xavier took power, in which his physical appearence began to rapidly decline -- had no words, he simply stared at Jack with apologetic eyes (though he knew that Xavier, Orlean, and now the Ridgians have gone too far for anything that he did to be of any value), but could not muster the strength to look him in the eye anymore, and simply turned to join Tarakh by the fire.

The two Dersconis conversed a little, and then Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh Andropov stood up, looked around, found Siri, and walked towards her.

"Siri O'Neill?" He extended his hand towards her. "For what it may be worth, Xavier has told me many things about you, all of them good. I must say, being an elf and gaining Xavier's respect...that is quite an accomplishment. I am Kynaz-Hetman Tarakh Alexeitovich Andropov, general of Second Division and staff of Field Marshal Auguste Marmont." Tarakh wouldn't normally add that on, but he wanted to distance himself from Marshal Darii, who, while not having the racist sentiments of Xavier, was still associated with him too closely to be absolved of guilt, deserved or not. Marmont, however, had been a General appointed by Rekjyavich Ivan Andropov III, and made a Field Marshal under Tsar Alexei, and became close friends with him. Since the rape and murder of his daughter, however, Marmont has taken indefinite leave from the Army.

"It's an honour to finally meet you." When Siri went to take his hand, albeit wearily, Tarakh slipped the note out of his sleeve, slid it into his palm, and grasped Siri's hand firmly, slipping the note down her sleeve, and tapping her wrist with his finger to alert her of the message. Prince John was the short telepathic message shot to Siri by Tarakh, who took percautions that no one else picked it up.

Antonette tossed the coats to the ground. "Home for the spiders. My donation, no need to send any repayment. Alert the drow to that as well."

Before he did this, he drew his sword, ready to engage in combat. When she sheathed her sword, he sheathed his, and as she walked into the main room, he called after her, "And you would not last in the Ridgian system!" He chuckled at her, and when von Papen guided them to the door, Katrina gave a final hug, and said, "I love you, Daddy." Then she collapsed completely into her husband's arms.

When they reached the car, Antonette felt her forehead, which was burning up. "Driver, get us to the goddamn plane, and get the doctors ready." All the stress from the whole year had pushed her to physical sickness, the spider having set it off. John stroked her hair, comforting her.

When they reached the plane, and eventually Cherry Ridge, Katrina was declared to just have a heavy fever, among other minor ailments throughout, causing moderate discomfort. She would be fine in a couple of weeks.

"Oh." Greg doesn't seem at all satisfied with Ire’arra's explanation, but he drinks anyway, and deeply at that. He hopes his parents haven't managed to become involved in whatever's going on in there. "So, all that just to say hello, huh?" he addresses this to the sink, if his line of sight is any indication. "Must be quite a language." The young man doesn't intend to insult, but as encounters thus far have demonstrated, he lacks the diplomatic tact of his mother.

"It can be, at times," Jaril agreed. "The same can be said for any number of other languages. Humans, in particular, amaze me at just how many languages they have come up with."

“I guess it goes to show, you can dress some people up, but you still can’t take them anywhere,” Nathi observed quietly as yet more Prussians left – a marked improvement on the evening overall, she couldn’t help but think. And another seriously black mark against the so-called alliance. She really felt for Jack having had to put up with all of this, and all that had gone on before, and was even more convinced that the choice to include them in the NDA had been the correct one. He handled himself well under pressure, and had shown far, far more patience than she would have were their places reversed.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
>> I sign their checks – they’ll damn well do whatever I tell them to.

>> As for all this other – il dio, can you believe those Prussian pricks? I swear, is it any wonder no one wants to deal with them? It’s like being in the middle of a pitbull fight with the lot of them nipping and barking and seeing how many cuts they can get it before their opponent falls. Once the air clears, lets see what we can do to help remedy the situation – get folks together and start actually celebrating the holiday. I cannot fathom why some of these bastardi chose to even come if all their point was to be as insulting and abusive as possible. You could bet they wouldn’t be setting foot in the Dominion again if it had been my house, by damn - at the very least.

>> Jack there deserves sainthood for putting up with them for so long. In any case, I’ll be right back. I refuse to let my ally stand alone after being insulted so – whether she is insulted over it or not.
}

Without further drawing attention to things, Nathi slipped away as quietly as she had joined Treznor to walk with head held high, and an all too familiar imperious tilt to her chin for those who knew her. She of course walked directly to AdminCoordinator, smiling warmly, and exclaiming in a cheerful, audible, but not rudely loud voice, “It is a decided honor to see you again, AdminCoordinator. I couldn’t be happier that you chose to attend – it allows me to thank you in person for your efforts on behalf of the alliance, and otherwise. Mars, I thought, was a stroke of genius.”

She extended her hand in greeting, then added in a softer voice. “My apologies for the offensive twits. I’m sure by now you know how it goes – there’s meatbags, and then there’s meatbags. I’m just sorry you had to put up with the intollerable ones here. How go the efforts with Alpha and Beta?”

“It is a decided honor to see you again, AdminCoordinator. I couldn’t be happier that you chose to attend – it allows me to thank you in person for your efforts on behalf of the alliance, and otherwise. Mars, I thought, was a stroke of genius.”
The AdminCoordinator turns her head from her close inspection of the finely painted 1:72 models of jet fighters sitting on an oak shelf--having gone past the F-16 to peer at the slightly less commonly known Saab Viggen--and turns on her bare feet to face the raven-haired woman addressing her. She bows politely from the hips as always, shortly, then hunches her head nearer her shoulders to mimic a shrug. "Thank you for your praise, Imperatrice Nathicana D'Aquisto. It is an honor to see you again as well. We thought it was important to ensure the survival and success of our allies when there was otherwise very little of allied support in the region. I will admit we were slightly concerned that perhaps we were being too forceful once they initially rejected our diplomatic suggestions, but fortunately the situation resolved quite well."

She extended her hand in greeting, then added in a softer voice. “My apologies for the offensive twits. I’m sure by now you know how it goes – there’s meatbags, and then there’s meatbags. I’m just sorry you had to put up with the intollerable ones here. How go the efforts with Alpha and Beta?”
The spacedy ant accepts the hand and shakes politely as always, then retracts her manipulator so she can fold it with its sister in front of her, taking the pose of a saint. Intentional? Perhaps. Her antennae wave back and forth slowly as she replies. "No offense can rationally be taken from the result of others' irrational fears. Fear is a form of respect, and as long as it does not devolve into a form of threat it did not and does not concern me. The fact that there are more open-minded meatbags keeps me well in this case." The voice suggests that if the bug could wink, she would. "My only concern is for our host as those rather impolite humans who just left never actually directly addressed me. I will move to rectify this shortly. Alpha and Beta progress nominally; population pressures will be moving us to establish a Gamma Hive at some point somewhere, as soon as we find a point optimal for our purposes." She mimics another shrug. "Such is the way of things--please excuse me, friend."

With that, she scuttles in fluid slow-motion over to Jack; long legs means not having to scurry quite like the ant she resembles. Bowing politely and holding herself there, she presses the tips of her antennae together. "I apologize that you had to deal with the xenophobia that apparently resulted from my presence, Chairman Jack O'Neill. It was unfortunate for you to be placed in such a position, but we will not forget your support in something even so trivial as this." She stands back up to her regular, comfortable height. "I suppose that in these circumstances I, as you say, 'owe you one.' Hmm." The box actually hums 'hmm,' a gently modulated near-parody of the human thought-noise. "That sounds like something more appropriate to the WarCoordinator's preferred verbiage. I am still glad I opted to leave my cousin, as well-meaning as she would have been, behind.

"Nevermind. If there is ever an opportunity for us to repay in like kind your hospitality, we would certainly be glad to do so."

Treznor watches the exchanges with uncharacteristic aplomb, stubbornly quelling his temper as various nobles express epithets against his friends and allies.

He grins as Nathicana makes her very loud and pointed greeting to AdminCoordinator and again stays to the side so as not to distract. In the past he would have taken a more direct role, but not at this moment. He brushes a hand through his hair -- he'd been astonished to note the salt-and-pepper colouring just last week -- and waits to see how matters turn out.

I haven't been there for every altercation, and I can't be there for all the ones to come. What we've started, Red, people like this will finish for us. We always hoped for this, the three of us, but we never expected to see it.

Finally he exhales in relief as the offended dignitaries stomp out of the room in a huff and snags a glass of wine from a serving tray.

<LOS Communications - Nathicana>
{
>> Oh, their loyalty goes beyond mere pay, Imperatrice. But point taken.

>> The Prussians don't worry me, love. We've always known about them, even if we didn't have detailed dossiers. This has been an excellent test of our allies. I wasn't sure how AdminCoordinator would handle this, nor O'Neil. You sure know how to pick 'em. I'm starting to think we should begin discussing the disposition of the Council. We've got quite a lot of talent in our ranks, and I think it's time we recognize that.
}

"Ladies and gentlemen," he calls while raising his glass into the air. "A toast. To friends, who are also allies. May they always be both." He takes a generous swallow of the wine and regrets it, but decorum forces him to hide the expression it provokes. Instead he finishes the glass hastily and sets it down without looking where it lands before reaching out to embrace his friends and allies -- those who welcome such displays, anyway.

Amy stands back, rightfully unsure of whether she was invited to take part in the comraderie between the NDA allies. It doesn't bother her to be excluded; at least the bickering seems to have ended. She takes the spare moment to look back at Paul with a half-glare. Not many people can sleep through what he has. If she lets him, he'll probably sleep until morning.


"Yeah, but humans are a lot more factional than most species," Greg points out. "Plus, there are way more humans than drow." With the sounds of fighting over and pleasant voices once again emanating from the living room he's feeling more at ease, but he still looks decidedly unsure about the drow woman who not only knows his name, but somehow knows what he wanted to drink earlier.

Alak shook his head. “Actually, no. I’m majoring in business administration and am hoping to work towards a Master’s.”

"Well, I do suppose that would be rather useful in a nation like Northrop-Grumman." Commented Muhammad, in reference to the corporate structure of the nation. "I studied at the University of Ryydra, oh, more than twenty years ago now. Economic Theory and Political Science is what I first majored in. I later went on to the Baghdad School of Law, and got a degree in Labour Law." Muhammad smirked, "I was quite busy as a young man."

He heard the toast being given, and looked around for a non-alcoholic drink, but couldn't find anything in his immediate vicinity. "To friends, who are also allies." He repeated, even without a drink.

Nathi deftly moves to retrieve a glass of whatever's handy, raising it and murmuring agreement, noting the Halladi representative's choice of participation, and chalking it up to religious choice, and the Xanthalian's odd expression and complete lack thereof with interest.

So the Xanthal folks are neither friends nor allies? Interesting ... so noted. From what I recall of the Trium files on them, they're an odd bunch anyway. Perhaps it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's meant as an insult. What was so difficult to understand about 'ladies and gentlemen'? Hrm ... perhaps she isn't either? Never can tell with some ... ah well. Lets hope Jack isn't further offended. Poor man has been through enough tonight.

She quietly made her way back to stand near Devon, where she felt she more or less belonged at the moment, hoping things would proceed more along these sorts of lines than the less friendly ones earlier now that most if not all of the contentious bastards had made an exit.

At least now she was able to get a better look at some of those she'd noticed earlier, not phased in the least by the various races and appearances. After so many years of circulating with everything from draconics, to Sakkrans and Kzinti, to Elves, Dwarves, Fae, and all the various bits in between, to demigods and sorcerors, and various EI by the dozens, not much phased her that way.

And frankly, she liked the freedom from immediate prejudice such experience had granted her. There were all types out there, regardless of appearance. Just had to get out, meet them, and find out which ones were good or bad on a case by case basis. Thus far at this particular event at least, the humans - and in particular, the Prussians - were in the red. Though she noted it wouldn't have hurt the drow to be a tad less confrontational when they obviously knew how the others would react. Ah well. Getting in digs was certainly not limited to human nature. And given the proper place and time, was a pastime she could respect - this however, had been neither.

<LOS Communications - Devon>
{
>> And don’t think I’m not grateful for the fact that it isn’t just the money – at least in the case of those I keep closest.

>> We truly have been graced with excellent allies, I can’t deny it. I know some have criticized our care in choosing, but the proof is in the pudding so to speak. This disposition now … pondering again what we’ve touched on in the past? I admit, I’m not sure I’m ready just yet myself. But you know how I can get about those things.
}

John nodded, "Much like a traitor." He began to walk, his wife still leaning on his shoulder, "We will be needing our jackets. Would you mind retrieving the for us?" The Cardinal walked over to Jack, and said, "Alert Siri to my departure, please, Excellency. Thank you for the drinks." The Cardinal, after speaking to Jack, turned and went outside to the waiting transport he had called for.

When he passed John, he looked more stressed than usual. He whispered, "Berchman's a seperate diocese now, thank God." John nodded, "Who off of your list did they pick?" The Cardinal replied, "No one, thats the problem. George Antonelli." John looked shocked, but recovered, before holding the door for the Cardinal.

John helped Katrina over to her Father, who she embraced. If one felt her skin, they would notice that her skin was getting warmer. She held on to her father, and whispered everything that had happened. she stepped backwards when she was done, and would have tripped, had both men not have caught her. John placed her heated body against his, and again hobbled to retrieve his coat.

While she watched the slow movements of her husband, Siri failed to say very many words to Tarakh as he complimented her, for her mind was preoccupied with worry over how he was coping with all of these problems. It was something that even she was having to handle herself, after the urges to lash out physically against King Antonette for what he was saying to Jack.

“Thank you,” she responded to the Dersconi, grasping his hand rather weakly.

But any tapping that Tarakh attempted on her wrist to signal her would not be felt because of the thickness of the gloves and the extensive nerve damage that persisted throughout both hands and to some extent up her arms. So when he had spoke to her telepathically, she appeared to be quite confused why he was mentioning Prince John’s name until the note had been far enough up her sleeve to be felt by the working nerves. Then, after excusing herself from him and beginning to walk towards her husband, she stuck her hand inside her trenchcoat as if to adjust her belt and shoved the note into her pocket.

------------------------------

Traitor…

The word continued to resonate through Jack’s mind long after King Antonette, forcing him to rethink all that he had been doing. It’s irritating really, he thought as his eyes stared at the closed set of doors that led out into the foyer, his face still appearing quite irritated. There was no bloodshed when we had left Prussia, no hard feelings against those who had not contributed to the problems we felt were there. I opened my home up to these people and wanted to look past all that has happened, but I am branded as a traitor, my non-human friends hated, and false accusations placed against me.

His eyes turned towards the Xanthalian ambassador, just watching her in sadness. Though, over here is a great contrast to that. Only a month or so ago, when the Corporation was a part of ESUS, we were involved in a pointless war against them, each side had lost over a hundred thousand people and an untold amount of damage to the fleets. But I decided to invite these people into my home to show them that that bloody battle is all in the past and that we should move on. And standing here, I feel no hatred from them, no malice. They seem to be comfortable here as friends would…

Now looking down, his mind came to a conclusion. I’m tired of this all…I really am. I’ve tried to maintain friendships throughout this political mess and not let what the Corporation does affect it, but apparently it hasn’t worked. He sighed heavily as his foot tapped against the two packages. I just don’t really care anymore. There are more important things in my life I have to be worried about. I’m not going to waste my time any more with those that hate me…those that don’t respect me. Enough is enough…I’ve opened my arms, only to be trampled upon. Those that deserve that my kindness will receive it and those that don’t…

Jack found the end of his thoughts interrupted by the AdminCoordinator, causing him to suddenly look up from the packages towards her. He listened carefully, interested in what she had to say, and nodded his head every now and then, feeling a little better that she had come by to speak with him.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he replied, bowing his head before he continued. “But I don’t feel that you need to apologize for your presence. I sent out the invitation to your people and had no problem with you being at the party, but I didn’t know that some people here would have those sorts of feelings towards you. That isn’t your fault at all.” A smile crept out from the sides of his mouth. “You are just as welcome in my home and this nation as everyone else is, no matter what species.”

Still concerned about how her husband was dealing with the recent situation, Siri came up next to him, when she had noticed that he was finished speaking, and put her arms around him. “Are you going to be alright, Jack?”

He gazed around the room, before he answered her question, noticing certain people there, friends that he’s had for decades and others that he’s had for only months and some just acquaintances. Then, glancing down at her, he hugged her and answered, smiling, “Yeah, I think I’ll be fine.”

Leaning slightly, he snatched the beer bottle from the end table with one arm and raised it up, answering everyone else. “To friends, who are also allies.”

von Papen, suddenly remembering, jumped up from his seat by the fire, somewhat near the Xanthalians, and ran towards the place with his coat. He picked up a sealed duffel bag and walked in with it, towards Jack.

"Jack," Franz von Papen didn't have a problem calling him that, as he wasn't in his diplomatic fascade anymore -- he was retired. He came because he developed a small friendship with the Chairman, and expected to spend a nice Christmas with him and others. "I've had this thing for a few years now, and I kept forgetting to give it to you. It was a gift from Tsar Alexei, before he was assassinated." Franz von Papen set the duffel bag down and opened it, reaching inside, slowly pulling out a sword. The entire blade was shaped like a dragon, the back end of the tail acting as the handle, with a spear-tip in the back as a pommel. the sword itself was entirely black, although gold streams flowed up and down the blade itself, strange inscriptions crawling up the centre. The hilt was formed by a gold crown, studded with various rubies and diamonds, and the tip of the blade was actually shaped like an open mouth of a dragon.

"I know, my timing is pathetic, and my memory has failed me, but better now than never." He handed the sword to Jack before continuing. "This is the sword of a Dragon Master, which, in the old order, was the highest ranking noble of the Imperial Court. Alexei wanted me to give it to you, but I haven't been over here since, well, now. I couldn't tell you what it's made out of -- you would have had to ask Prince John -- but I know it's not normal, by any means." von Papen reached in and pulled out a letter, skimming over it, and sighed.

"This, however, is technically still valid, but, concerning these events -- fools who disgrace the name of Derscon and Greater Prussia because of their arrogance, power, and position -- I do not believe you would want what is granted here, and I do not think it would sit well with the current Imperial Court." It actually granted Jack the title of Marechal l'Empire, and the title of an honourary Grossherzog, and a plot of land in Derscon, castle and all. He stuck the letter in his inside pocket as Tarakh came over to take the now empty duffel bag back to the coat rack.

“You are just as welcome in my home and this nation as everyone else is, no matter what species.”
The AdminCoordinator's synthesized voice smiles. "In any case, we greatly appreciate your support. I personally consider this a good sign for the future."

Devon proposes a toast, and the Blue finds the nearest glass of fruity-looking liquid she can find, dipping one of her antennae down as she passes the glass under it, taking a sniff. Alcohol doesn't sit well with panNorm physiology; drunkenness doesn't suit them as it doesn't serve any real utilitarian purpose and the dessicant nature of it makes them highly uncomfortable. Finding it alcohol-free, she flips open a little thin pouch on her web harness and extracts a straw. "To friends and allies, and the hope for more," she synthetically vocalizes before removing the from her mandibles. Clacking those large chitinous structures resembling a cross between a meat cleaver and a tenderizing hammer to work out the muscles, she reveals the four razor-sharp fingerlike maxillae between them. One end of the straw goes in the glass, the other gets slipped inbetween the middle two maxillae, and she sips politely.

It's either that, lapping, or contortionism for drinking out of anything other than a martini glass, and the panNorm had long since discovered the straw to be the simplest way out that way. She waves her antennae and clickety-clacks her mandibles in compliment to the fruit punch, then buzzes her maxillae softly before returning the translator box to her mandibles. "An excellent fruit punch. My compliments to the mixer." Fructose is good.

She watches the Dersconi do his thing--again, her field of vision makes it almost unavoidable--and figures that at least that human over there seemed decent, especially after previous examples. She had noted previously how one person had politely turned green and left; she appreciated that reaction a bit more than the scene made by the Ridgians. After all, it was a little mutual, no?

Noting Amy has been left out, or has left herself out, the Blue picks up another glass of fruit punch and delivers it to the woman. "Allies we may not be, and perhaps not exactly friends, but we at least qualify as friendly acquaintances so far, no?" Another soft chuckle. "Please, tell me a bit more about yourself... or, if there really is 'nothing to tell,'" her voice takes on a tone of gentle ribbing, "let us go about and be social."

Amy grabs the beverage hastily and downs it in a single gulp. Immediately knowing from the taste that it's non-alcoholic, she looks slightly disappointed. Protocol explicitly forbids the consumption of alcohol for on-duty diplomatic staff, but she could really use a drink. Oh, well, she sighs inwardly. It's probably for the best. She sets the empty glass down and smiles congenially. "I am grateful for your gesture." She means it. The panNorm and the than may have some things in common, but a than would have been unlikely to take notice of her plight, and those that noticed would be equally unlikely to care.

It's about time someone started spreading the holiday cheer, and in a way it's appropriate that the one to do so would be the same person shunned by certain other partygoers simply because of her appearance. Amy has progressed beyond simple interest; she's begun to take a liking to the Blue. "Well," she begins her reply thoughtfully, "I'm sure we could find something about my life you'd think interesting. What is it you want to know?"

The Blue keenly notes the look of disappointment, but doesn't show it, at least not in any readable fashion outside of the normal wavering of her antennae and how she holds her body. So far this little excursion has already been a diplomatic challenge, so she's rather glad when it appears Amy doesn't much mind the fact that the punch is non-alcoholic.

"Your life is most certainly ordered at least in part by your culture, so that leads to a line of questioning which may offer you enough of an objective viewpoint to describe what comes to mind as interesting. Most people, when I have asked them directly, find their lives difficult to describe. You would think I would have learned by now.

"At any rate, let us approach it tangentally. Most of the Alliance societies are highly individualistic--given their human constituents--but have varying degrees of collectivistic tendencies. The Dominion has, if I recall correctly, a mandatory conscription program but it tends to be for only a short period; citizens are then free to do as they wish with their lives. Meanwhile the Kaeneians, while being mildly resistant to our research, appear to be much more collectivist as do the Tsarainese; they have a well-ingrained sense of national duty. After all, Arkhora Rene Seingult's shirt over there does read 'Command of the State is the duty of the highest in virtue.' Then there are the Coordinated Hives, which are so collectivist that we have no individualist tendency, despite the fact that we do exist as individuals. Where on the individualist-collectivist axis would you consider Xanthal, and how has that influenced the path of your life?"