NationStates Jolt Archive

"Well, hello. I've been the lone patron of this bar for a while now, I've been waiting for someone to show up. It's been terribly lonely." He took a sip of his drink. "Dave Rickards, Dictator, and who might you be?" He extended his hand and smiled.

Senator Sulla comes walking into the bar chuckling like a fiend. He seems more unwholesome than usual. he looks around the bar and sees his secretary Velma has already beat hime here. he smiles at her and walks over to the bar and says,
"Two Wild Turkeys on the rocks Jimmy!"

He waits for his order, and lays down a ten spot them.

"Keep the change my good lad! I'm just bubbling over with goodness today!"

He picks up the drinks and walks to Velma's table. He arrives just in time to see her hit a fellow patron with a wicked right cross. She says to the patron as he slumps to the ground,
"I warned you to watch the hands,buddy!"

"Ah, my Dear, I see that some people still haven't learned.",
the good but unwholesome senator said as he placed a drink in front of her.

"Thanks boss! By the way why are you so damned chipper today? Did you get to play ride the kinky pony with the Thessadorian Ambassador again?", she said.

"Greviously, tragically, and unfortunately no. However I have to admit that I've come up with a stroke of pure unadulterated genius, my dear! I've hired some Palentine Naval Dolphins to fill in for me on the WA floor.", responded Sulla.

Velma looked shocked! All the color drained from her face.

"Are you nuts, Senator! Those creatures are the foulest mouthed creatures known to man! Think of the children! That is even more that the festering snakepit deserves."

"Don't get you knickers in a knot, my dear! I've thought this one out thoroughly.",
the good but unwholesome senator looks around at the patrons in the bar before continuing,
"look at some of these patrons here, Velma. You've been out on the floor. Can you honestly say that some of those jeeters do not richly deserve the dolphins?"

Velma thought about some of the people she noticed during some of the debates, especially the WA HQ debate, and sighed,
"I suppose you're right, boss."

"Er, my name's not Jimmy," said Shemp weakly as he poured two more glasses of Wild Turkey for the senator. It was clear the good but slightly unwholesome customer wasn't listening, however, and quickly stalked off.

The momentary diversion proved fatal.

"Watch where you're sticking that hand, punk!" shouted the other man in front of the counter, grasping Dave's shoulders and kneeing him in the groin before hurriedly pulling his beers into his chest and rushing from the bar to a chorus of clanking glass.

"Er, I have to apologize for my colleague's, er, exuberance," immediately interjected Shemp. "He is a Kennyite, after all." He couldn't help but feel partly responsible for Rickards' displeasure, for he had failed to warn the dictator about Susa. "Here, have a free refill," he offered as he topped off the SCB gentleman's drink. It was the least he could do.

But he quickly resolved not to bathe himself in any more guilt than necessary, as he rounded the bar again, offering Dave to join him with a gesture toward the Palentine delegation.

"Senator Sulla," Shemp said enthusiastically as he approached the dolphin-lovers' table, holding out his hand. "We've, uhh, sort of interacted on the assembly floor, but I don't think we've had a chance to meet until now. I'm Shemp Number 3 of SchutteGod, and I just gotta say, you are a freakin' legend in my home country! Even my boss Mrs. Schutte loves you. She has a poster of you over her bed."

Kyle.935 appeared in the doorway, dodged past the Kennyites, and made his way to the Guardian's normal table. Annoyingly, there was a table, but no chairs, though this had the added benefit of keeping people from occupying their table. He simply sat into empty space, and his electronic systems produced a holographic chair to catch him. They had learned well since the last time they pulled that prank on him. He looked about, and noticed the bears and panda. Interesting. Uncle Wolf'd like to know about them. He caught a barstaff's attention, and half-whispered, "It's my birthday. Whiskey. With an 'e', and therefor not scotch. And for every ice cube in it, I shall kill someone."

I appear again in the bar, worried.

Scelestus of Vrall stumbled back in, mildly confused. Had he fallen asleep? He couldn't remember at least a few months of time. He looked around for a familiar face, but nothing jumped out at him right away in the crowd. With a nervous sigh, Scel looked for his old burnt chair, and sat down in decided failure.

But he quickly resolved not to bathe himself in any more guilt than necessary, as he rounded the bar again, offering Dave to join him with a gesture toward the Palentine delegation.

"Senator Sulla," Shemp said enthusiastically as he approached the dolphin-lovers' table, holding out his hand. "We've, uhh, sort of interacted on the assembly floor, but I don't think we've had a chance to meet until now. I'm Shemp Number 3 of SchutteGod, and I just gotta say, you are a freakin' legend in my home country! Even my boss Mrs. Schutte loves you. She has a poster of you over her bed."

The good but slightly unwholesome senator looked up at the smiling Shemp, and shook his hand.

"Glad to meet you son. I'm always happy to greet my fellow inhabitants of the Festering snakepit....well some of them anyway. I didn't realize that I had any fans. Seems that Barbaric Militant Machismo turns people off for some reason. Anyway stop by my office later, I'll give you an autograped picture form my movie days to give to your boss. It never hurts to be a suck up. I seem to be forgetting my manners. May I introduce you to my secretary, Velma Wong. She's the one who keeps me on the staight and narrow...mostly."

Velma finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. She looked up at the Smiling man who seemed to be slightly transfixed by the view of her clevage from her jumpsuit. He almond shaped eyes narrowed for a second before she said,
"You won't find what you're looking for there, Columbus."

The old nekomusume finished sweeping up around the Shrine of the Manifestation, clearing out the papers and other detritus left behind by the stream of Kawaiian pilgrims, who were conspicuous at the moment by their absence. Straightening the guard ropes around the shrine, she sighed. For the first time in months, she could take a break.

First post, whats going on? advice?

The more things change, the more they paradoxically seem to stay the same. Or so Jevo Telovar thought, walking into the United...no, the World Assembly Strangers' Bar. Aside from the gaggles of newcomers, everything seemed eerily similar to the last time he had been here...er...there. Then again, if history were somehow to repeat itself, Jevo considered Neville and Violet up to the task.

Almost jauntily, the middle-aged diplomat crossed the floor, heading toward the all-too-familiar bar. He was oddly giddy as he gestured toward the bartender. "Neville, my man, it has been too long."

And yet something was missing. Something...big. Lord Telovar laughed at himself - there was nothing to worry about any more, now was there? Everything was exactly where it has last been left, right?

Thud. "LORD SERPH HAS ASKED ME TO ACCOMPANY YOU TO SEE THAT NOTHING UNTOWARD TRANSPIRES HERE." The hulking metal being gazed across the bar slowly. "NOTHING MORESO THAN USUAL, THAT IS." Its red eyes flickered and its monotone voice developed a strange rumbling quality.

Great, Jevo thought. The damn golem thinks it's being funny. "The Chief manages to stop time and rearrange reality and it's exactly the same." Turning eagerly toward Neville, the Kriovaller hoped that his expense account was still intact.

The sound of several motorbikes approaching can now be heard within the temporary Bar. Most of them seem to stop just outside, with their engines just ticking over, but one actually enters this structure and comes into the Bar patrons' view. Its rider is an anthropomorphic Bear, who is wearing a black leather jacket (whose back is decorated with a picture of an ursine skull, surrounded by flames, between two [horizontal] strips of writing in a script that would be unfamiliar to almost everybody present), black leather boots with metal toe-caps, and mirrored sunglasses. He gazes around the room, and then carefully manouveres his bike between the tables until he reaches the place where the group from Bears Armed and its allies (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13825130&postcount=248) are sitting. After a brief exchange of words with Borrin o Redwood, in the Ursines' own language, he pulls a large envelope out of a pocket inside his jacket and hands this over to the ambassador. He then steers his bike back out of the room and the overall structure, to rejoin the others outside, and they all roar away into the distance again...
Borrin puts on a pair of spectacles, opens that envelope, and draws from out of it a letter that is wrapped around another [slightly smaller] envelope. He reads the letter, nods slightly as if acknowledging something, mutters a few words to his companions, and rises to his feet. Looking in the direction of the Kawaiian shrine, he sees that the old nekomusume is currently unoccupied and walks across to her. Bowing his head politely, he hands over the second envelope and speaks to the holy woman.

"Greetings. You may recall that we conversed briefly in this place's previous incarnation, when you expressed interest in my people's religious beliefs and in any resemblance that these might bear to your own faith. I reported that conversation to my superiors, and they have responded by sending this invitation to your own people's leaders to join us in exploring matter further by sending a mission to our lands."

(OOC: I'm sending you a TG [Edit: tomorrow] about the letter's details...)

A diminutive, dark skinned young man, wearing the traditional dress of the city of Herat stumbles into the bar looking flustered and tired. He nervously aproaches the bar and in a quiet voice asks,

" do you serve tea?" the barkeep indicates that he did not hear so the young man raises his voice ever so slightly and repeats his question, silently a much much older and shorter man wearing the slightly deshevelled robes of a khan and a diplomat ambles into the room and in a barely audible voice rebukes his young assistant,

" Good grief! Tarmashirin do stop shouting! we will look like barbarians. Give the man a note if he cannot hear you. Obviously the courseness of a bactrian goatherd has not yet been trained out of you, some times i despair of ever making a decent diplomat of you. " Khan Monghka shakes his head slowly to indicate his displeasure.

"yes noble Khan, you never despair of telling me either" whispers Tarmashirin who scribbles a note and hands it to the barkeep who nods his assent.
"they serve tea noble khan, shall i order you some?"

"well i haven't come here to drink beer and carouse like you tarmashirin, so yes" says Monghka as he stiffly settles himself at the bar,Tarmashirin passes another note across the bar and soon a hot pot of tea and two cups are provided, tarmashirin bows and hands the barkeep a note of thanks. Mongkha's milky eyes survey the papers he has brought with him.

"These are the new directives from the our minister Khan Nogai, Tarmashirin, in which he tells us that he has very substantially increased the mission's buget. Nogai implies that this increase should be used for entertainment, but i know better. The minister means us to liberally bribe our fellow ambassadors to favour our government's positions."

"Indeed noble khan, the minister is very fond of bribery. They say he gave 40 million darangs and twenty sable coats to Khan Togrul to have the plans for his palace at Tabriz assented to by the ministry for planning."

The khan scouls at his assistant, " Do not speak of that again Tarmashirin, the bribe was given to assuage Khan Togrul's thirst for vengeance when he discovered Khan Nogai in bed with his wife."

Tarmashirin looks shocked, " You mean to say that khan Nogai and our own dear princess Ryabat have been carrying on an affair?"

Mongkha looks bored and yawns, " Why do you think they sent her to be the cultural attache to our mission at the w.a. in the first place?"

Suddenly a tall and devastatingly beautifull young woman with long black hair and eyes that mark her out as an aristocratic Tungus enters the bar and confidently walks towards khan Mongkha and his assistant.

"Uncle how good to see you!" she quietly purrs as she kisses the elderly man twice on both cheeks, her exsquisite clothing and jewels mark her as a woman of rare taste.

" Dear princess, we were just talking about you," Monghka smiles and says. " How was Tabriz? we hear his divine majesty threw an excellent party to celebrate your birthday, such an honour! Did you happen to speak to Khan Nogai while you were there?"

Ryabat laughs and says " A very great honour indeed uncle and a glittering occassion. It was a shame you could not attend. Khan Nogai sends his fondest regards. Now what does it take for a freshly divorced young woman to get a drink around here? " her eyes flash mischief....

Temoprarily free from their duties while Arjel Khazaran pulled his hair out over the neutrality resolution, Jaris Krytellin and Irina Misheli walked into the bar.

"Even with being rebuilt and all, this place doesn't seem like it's changed much since the last time I was here," Jaris said, eyeing the crowd with a bemused look on his face.

"I wouldn't know...they all seem interesting enough," Irina said, with the eagerness of a new diplomat on her first assignment.

Jaris laughed. "Oh, you have no idea, my dear. Let's get a drink and watch the entertainment," he added, as they walked up to the bar and placed their orders.

"May I introduce you to my secretary, Velma Wong. She's the one who keeps me on the straight and narrow...mostly."

Velma finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. She looked up at the Smiling man who seemed to be slightly transfixed by the view of her cleavage from her jumpsuit. He almond shaped eyes narrowed for a second before she said, "You won't find what you're looking for there, Columbus.""Uhh, sorry," Shemp said with some embarrassment as he noticed his cell video cam had strayed a bit far south. "I got a little excited. Mrs. Schutte will be thrilled to see this thing once I show it to her. It's a pleasure to meet you Velma, and I'm sure when this thing goes out on the Internet the whole world will be pleased to meet you ... and your twins."

The ambassador wasn't sure if it would be wise to crack wise; Velma seemed a bit abrasive. Even so, he was prepared to dive under the table if she got physical about it. He turned his cell phone back on Senator Sulla. "So, Senator, what's it like working with Empress Jhessan? Is there anything you can say about her that wouldn't violate YouTube's Terms and Conditions? Heh, heh." Shemp little realized he was embarrassing himself so; he was having too much fun with this.

He could have sworn he overheard someone mention a foreign minister's fondness for bribery. They really should watch themselves around Sulla, Shemp thought happily as he glanced over at the offending table -- especially that hot little number that just stalked in.

"Uhh, sorry," Shemp said with some embarrassment as he noticed his cell video cam had strayed a bit far south. "I got a little excited. Mrs. Schutte will be thrilled to see this thing once I show it to her. It's a pleasure to meet you Velma, and I'm sure when this thing goes out on the Internet the whole world will be pleased to meet you ... and your twins."

The ambassador wasn't sure if it would be wise to crack wise; Velma seemed a bit abrasive. Even so, he was prepared to dive under the table if she got physical about it. He turned his cell phone back on Senator Sulla. "So, Senator, what's it like working with Empress Jhessan? Is there anything you can say about her that wouldn't violate YouTube's Terms and Conditions? Heh, heh." Shemp little realized he was embarrassing himself so; he was having too much fun with this.

He could have sworn he overheard someone mention a foreign minister's fondness for bribery. They really should watch themselves around Sulla, Shemp thought happily as he glanced over at the offending table -- especially that hot little number that just stalked in.


Princess Ryabat notices a rather louche looking diplomat eyeing her from across the bar. She wonders what sort of company he likes to keep, a very provocative woman seems to be flaunting herself for him. " To hell with it" she thinks, " i got divorced to day, i feel like some pale civil service meat to help me over the seperation anxiety" she takes a tiny crystal phile of rare malabathrum and touches it's mouth to her neck, suddenly she is enveloped in it's rich sent.

" Uncle, please excuse me i think i should be extending the famous traditional Urgenchi hospitality to that ambassador over there," she smiles slyly
" where is he from do you know? "

Mongkha looks at her blankly, " I think that's Shemp of Schuttegod my dear, be wary of him. I hope your not thinking of being in-delicate in any way? "

Ryabat flicks her hair and absent mindedly says to Mongkha " Oh uncle don't be so synical. I have only the interests of Urgench at heart."

The princess walks slowly over to Shemp's table, being sure he gets a long look at her pretty perfect form as she does.

"Ambassador Shemp, how do you do? I am Ryabat Goizam i am with the Urgenchi mission. I was wondering if you thought our nations might benefit from some.... Cultural exchange?" ......

The celebration kicks in as the jubilant party of the Charlotte Ryberg WA Team, despite being ejected by Charlotte herself during the debate, celebrate the country's second resolution being passed... with the full traditional farmhouse breakfast and tea instead of the booze you'd expect in the party.

"I'd like to apologise for having to remove you from the debate halls and I'd like to ask you how long it will take for you to forgive me," Charlotte Ryberg smiled.

"We've already done so. It is well worth the month-long wait to increase survival rates of small and vulnerable nations," muffled Tia.

"I got to tell you that resolutions do divide the WA each time one resolution passes: the lowest total votes in WA history, despite a dominance by ration of 2 to 1 for this resolution, has been recorded, but not as low as the 3-vote turnout in NS-UN resolution #1. We've got to do something to increase morale," explains Amanda.

"I know what," Charlotte exclaims. "The WA can't form an army, but... think of a resolution that fits the category International Security, strength: strong. I've got one: fight dangerous nations like the NS equivalents of North Korea and Iran. Other ideas?"

"What about something that can increase the role-play popularity of international incidents?" asks Hannah Pauline-Julia.

Charlotte replies: "I guess that can be done by arming nations to fight dangerous nations that not only oppresses its people, but threatens nations who have other things to do..."

Khan Mongkha observes the celebrating Charlotte Ryberg mission and wonders why foreigners always shout. He picks up his gold handled ivory cane and walks over to the table of the celebrants, shooting his assistant a look that says- " stay where you are i'll be back in a minute".

Mongkha aproaches Charlotte Ryberg and in his customary whisper says " Madame ambassador, forgive me for interupting but please allow me to congratulate you on your marvelous success, we wondered whether a last minute turn in voting might have occured towards the end there but not so it seems. I couldn't help hearing you say that you were considering introducing another resolution, on what do you imagine it being?"
The elderly diplomat's milky eyes survey the table's collection of unusual individuals and he wonders who they all are.

"What about something that can increase the role-play popularity of international incidents?" asks Hannah Pauline-Julia.

Charlotte replies: "I guess that can be done by arming nations to fight dangerous nations that not only oppresses its people, but threatens nations who have other things to do..."

Jevo noticed the new arrivals, and listened intently to their conversation. Excellent. The Colossus was busy being mesmerized by whatever the Kawaiians were doing - he was a sucker for that stuff. "Ladies," he began grandly, "welcome to our humble home away from home, here in the hallowed halls of the Un...er...World Assembly. I couldn't help but notice that you were speaking about international incidents. I've been known to be embroiled in an 'incident' or two in my day." The Kriovaller smiled broadly. "Arming nations? Perhaps I should introduce you to our Great Chief someday. He knows a thing or two about weaponization, if you catch my meaning."

Wens Foroun is very tall. To some, she's rather mannish, but if you mention it in her presence be prepared for accept a smarting nose for several days. You may also accept the inevitability that you are going to be judged and measured according to her exacting specifications, and if she doesn't like you it's quite apparent.

That said, everyone should know she likes to have a good time, and contrary to what her mother is in the habit of saying, she does get out on Saturday nights. Besides, even if she did like to curl up with a good book, no dates, no dinner and no drinks, who the hell are you to judge?

She strode into the bar, squinting briefly to adjust to the darkness. There's something about a bar that just makes you want to sit at it and drink yourself silly, she thought, and I aim to do that.

"Barkeep, bone dry martini. And a piano. I'm feeling lyrical."

Khan Mongkha decides to give up trying to be heard by the delegate for Charlotte Ryberg. Besides the ambassador for Krioval Reforged who seems like a bellowing giant to the tiny khan has decided to address himself to Charlotte Ryberg and the khan cannot abide having to share focus.

The Khan sits down next to his assistant and sips his tea " I never sease to be amazed at the rudeness of diplomats Tarmashirin. " the khan sies " What is Ryabat doing? i don't want to look over my shoulder and appear too nosey. Is she being indecent? "

Tarmashirin nervously looks over to where the cultural attache is sitting, " Honoured Khan she appears to be talking to the ambassador for SchutteGod, she seems to be having a lot of fun. That is to say she is laughing and flicking her hair a lot at least. "

" By the Emperor's teeth! " the khan hisses, " what does she imagine she is doing? the scandal in Tabriz with the minister is still being splashed across the front pages and she's only divorced from Togrul a week! Shemp is married you know?" ....

"I know what," Charlotte exclaims. "The WA can't form an army, but... think of a resolution that fits the category International Security, strength: strong. I've got one: fight dangerous nations like the NS equivalents of North Korea and Iran. Other ideas?"

"What about something that can increase the role-play popularity of international incidents?" asks Hannah Pauline-Julia.

Charlotte replies: "I guess that can be done by arming nations to fight dangerous nations that not only oppresses its people, but threatens nations who have other things to do..."

The good but unwholesome Senator Sulla was about to tell Shemp of some of the fringe benefits of working for Her Imperial Hottness, like getting court side seats at the beach volleyball tournements, when he overheard the party from Charlotte Ryberg. The smile left his lips to be replaced by a scowl.

"I say, I do believe she's talking about the Palentine. I guess its time to dust off my patented Barbaric Militant Machismo.", he said quietly.

As a waitress walked by he stopped her and said,
"Another Wild Turkey on the rocks my dear."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigar almost the size of a large kosher salami. He cut the end and lit the bad boy up. A pleasent blue haze of fragrant smoke wafted over the head of the senator. He accepted his fresh drink from the waitress, and gave the party from Charlotte Ryberg a smile most unpleasent.

"I know what," Charlotte exclaims. "The WA can't form an army, but... think of a resolution that fits the category International Security, strength: strong. I've got one: fight dangerous nations like the NS equivalents of North Korea and Iran. Other ideas?"

"What about something that can increase the role-play popularity of international incidents?" asks Hannah Pauline-Julia.

Charlotte replies: "I guess that can be done by arming nations to fight dangerous nations that not only oppresses its people, but threatens nations who have other things to do..."

Overhearing the conversation, Jaris shakes his head slightly. "May the gods save us from governments who feel the innate need to 'intervene' with force in other nations," he whispers to Irina, who simply nods. Jaris gives a slight sigh and orders another Eagles' Backbone Ale. Noticing Sulla's antics, Jaris smiles and nudges Irina. "This ought to be interesting," he whispers.

"It's a pleasure Ms. Goizam, I of course am Ambassador Shemp Number Three from SchutteGod..."

Shemp accepted the young royal's hand and was about to kiss it chivalrously when he overheard scandalous whisperings about them from the Urgenchis' table. He glanced over to see them staring shamelessly. Couldn't hurt to have a little fun with this, he thought mischievously, as he gently tugged on the flirtatious attache's arm and pulled her into his lap. It didn't seem to offend her; on the contrary, she seemed to enjoy it, smiling and giggling throughout. It might have looked somewhat awkward to anyone watching them, however, the Urgenchi woman being so tall.

"Let me introduce you to my barmates here," Shemp offered, designating the unwholesome gentleman to his right satisfyingly puffing a cigar and smiling smugly at Charlotte & Friends: "This is Senator Sulla, as I'm sure you're aware, and this--" he pointed at the well-endowed vixen seated with the senator-- "is Velma, Sulla's secretary."

As the princess exchanged pleasantries with the pair, Shemp could have sworn he overheard her peers rasping about his wife (long estranged, unbeknownst to them), and being overcome by another awful idea, making sure his next action was in their line of sight, slipped off his wedding ring and stealthily hid it in his pocket while Ryabat wasn't looking.

"It's a pleasure Ms. Goizam, I of course am Ambassador Shemp Number Three from SchutteGod..."

Shemp accepted the young royal's hand and was about to kiss it chivalrously when he overheard scandalous whisperings about them from the Urgenchis' table. He glanced over to see them staring shamelessly. Couldn't hurt to have a little fun with this, he thought mischievously, as he gently tugged on the flirtatious attache's arm and pulled her into his lap. It didn't seem to offend her; on the contrary, she seemed to enjoy it, smiling and giggling throughout. It might have looked somewhat awkward to anyone watching them, however, the Urgenchi woman being so tall.

"Let me introduce you to my barmates here," Shemp offered, designating the unwholesome gentleman to his right satisfyingly puffing a cigar and smiling smugly at Charlotte & Friends: "This is Senator Sulla, as I'm sure you're aware, and this--" he pointed at the well-endowed vixen seated with the senator-- "is Velma, Sulla's secretary."

As the princess exchanged pleasantries with the pair, Shemp could have sworn he overheard her peers rasping about his wife (long estranged, unbeknownst to them), and being overcome by another awful idea, making sure his next action was in their line of sight, slipped off his wedding ring and stealthily hid it in his pocket while Ryabat wasn't looking.


" Ouch" thought Princess Ryabat as she landed on something hard and metallic in Ambassador Shemp's lap " that must be his car keys"

" I must say i'm charmed, ambassador Sulla,to meet you " she said tinklingly, flashing her million Darang smile at the cigar smoking chap with a glint in his eye. " Miss Velma, how do you do? I think it should be Krug all round don't you ambassador Shemp? I feel like celebrating my freedom. Ambassador Sulla, Miss Velma wont you join us in a toast? You know Sulla my Father the Ilkhan of The Khitan is a afficionado of fine cigars, the emperor gave him the gift of a marvelous new Humidor for his birthday i'm sure he'd love to show you around it."

Shemp seemed to be sure she had not noticed him pocketing his wedding ring "good she thought "i love a man that doesn't want to take me away weekends in the country".

" So what's your vice ambassador Shemp #3? mine is an unhealthy attraction to unavailable men" Ryabat smiled coldly.....

Ambassador Khan Mongkha had been relaying back and forth between the bar and the chamber for some time now all the while getting more despondant. Tarmashirin his assistant had been doing his best to keep the elderly khan fed, watered and organised. Tarmashirin was dog tired and their last break had been long enough for him to gather his thoughts.

" Honoured khan you should not return to the debate, you should save your energy for the passage of our statute. "

Khan Mongkha adjusted his long silken robes and sipped his tea, his milky blue eyes were tired but still betrayed the steely unforgiving side to his nature, he sighed,

"Tarmashirin, do you still have the contact details of that Buryat Shaman in Baikalia? "

Tarmashirin was chilled to the bone by the khan's question, " I do honoured khan, but surely you don't need him do you? "

" I think it may be time. We will need all the support we can muster. And i have a special request regarding that barbarian who insulted us during the debate last night."

Tarmashirin felt his mouth dry out with worry and foreboding, "But honoured Khan such practices are illegal, and.... and very dangerous "

" Don't lecture me boy. I am the emperor's second cousin, do you think i am concerned with the Rationality Act? Contact the shaman give him whatever he needs and send the ambassador for Wencee an suitably gaudy gift, maybe some Japanese silks or some ancient Scythian gold artefacts with our apologies. "

" Yes Honoured Khan " ....

Jevo Telovar had left the bar some time ago, the recall notice specifying his pending reassignment to Altanar, should the President finally make official contact. He had noted with some mirth his replacement, Lady Kara's cousin Darvek, was more suited to a career as a pugilist than an international diplomat. But in a land where Lord Serph could ascend to the Great Chiefdom, anything was now possible. "Convey a message to the Urgenchi delegation," Jevo had whispered before departing.

Darvek looked around, eventually finding somebody to relay his note. "Please let their ambassador that I am available to speak with them at their convenience." With that, he pressed the note and a small coin into the courier's hand and waited.

To His Excellency, the Lord Mongkha, khan of Kashgar, ambassador to the World assembly for the Empire of Urgench,

On behalf of the Great Chiefdom of Krioval, I would like to apologize for my delay in approving Your Excellency's nation's proposal before the World Assembly until this evening. Krioval and the nations in her region do not have any known nomadic peoples, so we were slow in reviewing the merits of this proposal. While we will ultimately be compelled to vote according to the dictates of our region, I hope that our region will be convinced to support this legislation.

~ Serph

As the new ambassador reclined in his seat, he hoped that some of the legends concerning the Urgenchi were untrue - especially those involving exotic curses and vicious poisons.

Oh, all of this bar full of nice attracting people dealing with so much important tasks and speaking so good English. I cannot choose whom to address to so I will be sitting in this corner drinking my nice triples (Belgium and Dutch special brewed strong beers) listening and looking to you all. I have problems following this all in this strange language, but I like this bar.

If some wants to talk with me in Dutch I will be pleased. But hopefully that will not offend the others here.

Cheers

Jevo Telovar had left the bar some time ago, the recall notice specifying his pending reassignment to Altanar, should the President finally make official contact. He had noted with some mirth his replacement, Lady Kara's cousin Darvek, was more suited to a career as a pugilist than an international diplomat. But in a land where Lord Serph could ascend to the Great Chiefdom, anything was now possible. "Convey a message to the Urgenchi delegation," Jevo had whispered before departing.

Darvek looked around, eventually finding somebody to relay his note. "Please let their ambassador that I am available to speak with them at their convenience." With that, he pressed the note and a small coin into the courier's hand and waited.



As the new ambassador reclined in his seat, he hoped that some of the legends concerning the Urgenchi were untrue - especially those involving exotic curses and vicious poisons.


Khan Mongkha notices the ambassador for Weird Anarchists entering the bar and bows deeply to them " Tarmashirin, we must get a decent translator sent from Tabriz so we may have better comunications with the Weird Anarchist's ambassador." he said, " They are a noble people."

Someone hands Tarmashirin a note addressed to Khan Mongkha, " honoured Khan you have recieved a communique from Darvek ambassador for Krioval in which he expresses his nation's support for our resolution, he says he wishes to speak with you. "

" Indeed Tarmashirin, what excellent good manners? Is that him over there? the one who looks like a crimean bear wrestler? Go and ask him if he would like to join us, he's prettier than your wife Tarmashirin it will be a treat for you." The elderly khan let out the quiet hiss which passed for uproarious laughter among Urgenchis

" As you see fit honoured khan." Said the khan's long suffering assistant as he rose and went to address himself to the burly but honest looking ambassador for Krioval.....

" Indeed Tarmashirin, what excellent good manners? Is that him over there? the one who looks like a crimean bear wrestler? Go and ask him if he would like to join us, he's prettier than your wife Tarmashirin it will be a treat for you." The elderly khan let out the quiet hiss which passed for uproarious laughter among Urgenchis

" As you see fit honoured khan." Said the khan's long suffering assistant as he rose and went to address himself to the burly but honest looking ambassador for Krioval.....

Darvek looked up in surprise to see one of the Urgenchi approach. That was fast, he thought. Hope that they're not too put off by our delay. Trying to not look in the other diplomat's direction, the Kriovaller waited until he was within only a short distance before extending a rather large arm in Tarmashirin's direction.

"Afternoon," Darvek said jovially.

With Ambassador Foroun at the bar enjoying her drink and the other patrons chatting quietly and quite nicely getting along with each other, the last thing one would expext was a gigantic squid-man-cyborg to come lurching into the bar.

This being the World Assembly, such a thing did happen.

The whirring and clunking itself was ignored at first, chalked up by the regulars to either Cmdr. Chiang's residual spying devices, Yeldan Destructor Bunnies, or some block from Cobdenia trying to get into the Ladies' Restroom via airshaft. But when it got louder and was accompanied by a sound vaguely reminiscent of someone mashing their fingers in a bowl of ground chuck, heads started to turn.

b'sYA'jodih"Kho',ME"ah (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/15.jpg) half-lurched, half-dragged himself through the wide doors of the Stranger's Bar, tentacles spilling out into the room. Creaking forward on wobbly android legs, he swept his eyes wide around the room, one tentacle brandishing what appeared to be a stylized harpoon.

Catching site of Ambassador Foroun, his legs gave a whirring noise and propelled him forward in the fashion of a toddler whose head is bigger than the rest of his body and tends to drag him in whichever direction it leans.

"Why, Wens, you did not tell me they had an alcoholic beverage establishment in this colony. Great Mollusk's Mantle! A nice place."

In what can only be described as an awkward, confusing, and somewhat disturbing fashion, the gigantic cephalopod "sat" on one of the bar stools, his tentacles falling over the rail and one of his suckers plugging the harpoon into the wood over the bar.

Far, far behind in the wake of the mollusk, a timid young man made his way to the bar. Of average height, he had dark brown hair and bright green eyes, rather handsome, wearing a well-cut robe, tightly cinched by a thick brocade belt. After the procession of the sea-creature, he was almost unnoticed.

"Aunt Wens, please don't make me escort the consul around anymore." he said with a pained look in his eyes. "My shoes smell like high tide at the pier."

b'sYA'jodih"Kho',ME"ah (http://i11.photobucket.com/albums/a188/kuroutesshin/15.jpg) half-lurched, half-dragged himself through the wide doors of the Stranger's Bar, tentacles spilling out into the room. Creaking forward on wobbly android legs, he swept his eyes wide around the room, one tentacle brandishing what appeared to be a stylized harpoon.

Colossus watched the newcomer with almost obscene interest, if such a thing were possible in an animated hunk of mostly metal. Curiosity won out over Jevo's instructions to "stay out of the way". Besides, Jevo had been replaced by Darvek. Darvek's instructions were to "do whatever you normally do". Since "annoy Jevo" and "hit on Ardchoillean officials" were currently invalid, it left "investigate strange things". A semi-robotic squid certainly qualified as being worthy of investigation.

"GREETINGS, BIOLOGIAL-AND-MECHANICAL-CREATURE-OF-INDETERMINATE-ORIGIN. YOUR TYPE IS CURRENTLY UNKNOWN IN KRIOVAL OR HAS BEEN MADE UNAVAILABLE TO MY DATABASES. INFORMATION ON YOUR COMPOSITION WILL BE GREATLY APPRECIATED." Colossus strained his memory, recalling a distant fact. Then it clicked. "MAY I PURCHASE YOU A LIQUID FOR CONUMPTION, BIOLOGICAL ONE?"

The tall Foroun was now dwarfed by two things in the room. turning around on her barstool, she found herself face to face with a rather ruffled nephew, a gigantic silver humanoid golem, and a cyborg cephalopod.

"This reminds me of a dream I had, only this time I'm not naked and your names aren't Franklin, Edward, and John." she smirked.

The squid smiled, I think. "I am b'sYA'jodih"Kho',ME"ah, of the Viss'T. My name is hard to pronounce without a beak. You may call with Wilbur. This, I think, is the closest approximation of my name. You may also call me b'sYA'jodih"Kho',ME"ah, if you possess the ability to do so."

"Also- my origin is not "indeterminate." My mother raised me and my seven hundred siblings, and I know each of the seventy-five possible fathers of my herd, thankyouverymuch." He tut-tutted, possibly, clicking his beak. "Drinks are very good. I like lemon juice and fishpaste. It is ironic. He chuckled now, as near to chuckling as a creature with a beak can do, clacking his beak rapidly.

Wens leaned over to the young man, beckoning with her hand. "Come on, come over here and have a drink. It looks like you need one. I'm so very glad you got your appointment here! Master Vaak was very kind in securing it, Tyv. You didn't bring Nash with you?"

The young man was Tyv Foroun, son of Dejáchman Kors Foroun, and the nephew of the ambassador. He shrugged sheepishly. "Nash isn't with me anymore, Aunt. Not for a month, now. He didn't want to continue with me in diplomacy... among other things." He wiped his shoe on the brass rail absently.

Tarmashirin was delighted with Darvek's offer of a hand shake. It was a barbarian custome he loved, so personal, so respectfull. He enthusiasticaly shook the Kriovaler's hand with his own small hand iliciting a surprised smile from the much larger man.

" Pleased to meet you honoured ambassador Darvek, I am Tarmashirin of Herat, Khan Mongkha's assistant. ", the ambassador smiled his recognition, and Tarmashirin nearly died with embarrassment, he could not believe someone knew who he was.

" Er... Khan Mongkha was pleased with your note. He wonders if you would like to join us for a drink? "

Colossus repeated the name effortlessly; it was sufficient for him (if gender could be assigned) to simply hear something to remember it perfectly. Many in Krioval had learned this the hard way when Lord Serph had ruined a promising political career using the golem's incredible recall in the open Senate hall. But here his memory could serve a more benign purpose.

"I FIND YOUR LINEAGE TO BE IMPRESSIVE. I HAVE ONLY ONE PROGENITOR. I WILL INSTRUCT THE NEVILLE TO BRING YOUR MIXTURE TO YOU WITH A MINIMUM OF DELAY."

The young man was Tyv Foroun, son of Dejáchman Kors Foroun, and the nephew of the ambassador. He shrugged sheepishly. "Nash isn't with me anymore, Aunt. Not for a month, now. He didn't want to continue with me in diplomacy... among other things." He wiped his shoe on the brass rail absently.

The golem was distracted momentarily, and Colossus thought for a few seconds. A decision was reached. "LORD DARVEK IS RIGHT OVER THERE. HE LIKES DIPLOMACY. HE IS OFTEN DOING DIPLOMACY WITH LORD SERPH."

Darvek pretended to not hear the golem's comment, though he was secretly pleased that Colossus stopped where he did. Not that any impropriety had occurred between himself and the Great Chief, but the metallic being had a way with words that left one with an imaginative mind to generate the most outlandish fantasies.

" Pleased to meet you honoured ambassador Darvek, I am Tarmashirin of Herat, Khan Mongkha's assistant. ", the ambassador smiled his recognition, and Tarmashirin nearly died with embarrassment, he could not believe someone knew who he was.

" Er... Khan Mongkha was pleased with your note. He wonders if you would like to join us for a drink? "

"The Great Chief will be satisfied to hear that. I'm just glad that there aren't any lasting problems between us. Anyway, lead the way, Your Excellency."

Tarmashirin guided Darvek to the table where Khan Mongkha was sitting, " We have no reason to feel anything but warmly toward your region, you took time in considering our resolution, we could ask no more. We are delighted as i'm sure the khan will tell you himself with your region's approval."

They sat down, the tiny khan smiled his warmest, broadest smile and bowed his head as a sign of respect, " Ambassador Darvek, you honour us with your presence, what will you have to drink?" the khan's milky blue eyes were as unreadable as ever but Tarmashirin knew him well enough to know that the khan was plotting something.

Princess Ryabat,tired of making nice with Shemp, wandered back over to the Khan's Table the long rope of black pearls around her neck swaying with her long black hair in time with her languid walk. Her rare and beautifull perfume filled the air around her. Her pale skin shone in the smocky gloom of the bar.

"How do you do ambassador Darvek? I am Ryabat Goizam cultural attache to the Urgenchi mission. " she held out her hand to Darvek

" Ambassador Darvek, you honour us with your presence, what will you have to drink?"

"Thank you for the invite, Your Excellency." Darvek gestured toward the table. "I'll have what you're having, unless it's not got alcohol in it. Heh."

"How do you do ambassador Darvek? I am Ryabat Goizam cultural attache to the Urgenchi mission. "

He grasped her outstretched hand and shook it vigorously. Fortunately, he stopped short from lifting the princess from the ground. "M'lady. I'm Darvek. Tyvok tribe. From Krioval. I guess I'm in charge of Krioval's diplomacy here." He grinned mischievously. "With the debate in the great hall, I wonder what use it is to send one such as you, well versed in culture. Seems to be lacking, ya know?"

Colossus repeated the name effortlessly; it was sufficient for him (if gender could be assigned) to simply hear something to remember it perfectly. Many in Krioval had learned this the hard way when Lord Serph had ruined a promising political career using the golem's incredible recall in the open Senate hall. But here his memory could serve a more benign purpose.

"I FIND YOUR LINEAGE TO BE IMPRESSIVE. I HAVE ONLY ONE PROGENITOR. I WILL INSTRUCT THE NEVILLE TO BRING YOUR MIXTURE TO YOU WITH A MINIMUM OF DELAY."

Burbles of contentedness emitted from the propulsion vents around the squid's...er, head.

"You are much too kind, hrrrmmm. The Everpresent Mollusk indeed bestowed you with great kindness when It laid you. Would you like to discourse on amusing or interesting topics?"

The robotic legs settle a bit more, a bit of fluid dripping from a hastily-wrapped poultice around a noticeably leaking joint. The squid seems to blend with the wood and brass colors of the bar, his chromatophores masking him, indicating his level of relaxation.

The golem was distracted momentarily, and Colossus thought for a few seconds. A decision was reached. "LORD DARVEK IS RIGHT OVER THERE. HE LIKES DIPLOMACY. HE IS OFTEN DOING DIPLOMACY WITH LORD SERPH."

Darvek pretended to not hear the golem's comment, though he was secretly pleased that Colossus stopped where he did. Not that any impropriety had occurred between himself and the Great Chief, but the metallic being had a way with words that left one with an imaginative mind to generate the most outlandish fantasies.

Tyv just blinked, processing what wasthe first unintentional sexual innuendo made to him by a golem. He suddenly reddened, realizing the connection to his own sentence.

"I mean, embassy work, not... he didn't want to come work for the... well, you know..." he stuttered sheepishly. His Aunt chuckled and slid him a drink.

"Here, relax. We're going to see a philosophical discussion between a colossal cyborg squid and an animate talking construct. Don't see that much on Åm, you?"

Burbles of contentedness emitted from the propulsion vents around the squid's...er, head.

"You are much too kind, hrrrmmm. The Everpresent Mollusk indeed bestowed you with great kindness when It laid you. Would you like to discourse on amusing or interesting topics?"

The robotic legs settle a bit more, a bit of fluid dripping from a hastily-wrapped poultice around a noticeably leaking joint. The squid seems to blend with the wood and brass colors of the bar, his chromatophores masking him, indicating his level of relaxation.

"THAT WOULD BE MOST ENLIGHTENING. WOULD YOU CARE TO DISCUSS THE NATURE OF DIVINITY AND THE IMPACT ON MORTAL CIVILIZATION? IT IS A PROBLEM THAT HAS PERPLEXED ME FOR SOME TIME." Colossus regarded the leaky joint. "DO YOU REQUIRE REPAIRS?"

Tyv just blinked, processing what wasthe first unintentional sexual innuendo made to him by a golem. He suddenly reddened, realizing the connection to his own sentence.

"I mean, embassy work, not... he didn't want to come work for the... well, you know..." he stuttered sheepishly. His Aunt chuckled and slid him a drink.

"Here, relax. We're going to see a philosophical discussion between a colossal cyborg squid and an animate talking construct. Don't see that much on Åm, you?"

It was probably for the best, anyway. Darvek, a Samoan built like an NFL linebacker, was known for his exceptional strength and vigor back home, where such traits were commonplace. The poor boy would likely have been mauled senseless before the Kriovaller would have realized that something wasn't quite right. And thus was disaster averted, at least for the present.

"THAT WOULD BE MOST ENLIGHTENING. WOULD YOU CARE TO DISCUSS THE NATURE OF DIVINITY AND THE IMPACT ON MORTAL CIVILIZATION? IT IS A PROBLEM THAT HAS PERPLEXED ME FOR SOME TIME." Colossus regarded the leaky joint. "DO YOU REQUIRE REPAIRS?"

One of the legs twitched.

"Hmmm, require? Perhaps. Experience has shown that it does not do much good, they are limited in their capabilities. I much prefer my tank to these crude "limbs" humanoid creatures are in the habit of breaking or getting caught in nets."

A huge flipper curled around his fish/lemon concoction, attempting to lift it to his beak and empty it in one gulp. Lacking lips, he couldn't very well "sip."

"The impact of divinity on mortal civilization? This is a very stubborn bivalve... I think that is the metaphor, yes? Hard to open? My people do not have "gods" as the humans do... our "deity" is the Great and Everpresent Mollusk. It dwells in the deepest chasm, and has always been there. Our swarms warble the stories that the first of us were birthed from It's ancient eggsac, after It fertilized them from It's own spermatophores."

"Sometimes the currents change and our coral homes feel warm water from the deep. We assume this is the Great Mollusk sending us gifts. My great uncle's nephew supposedly delved into the deep chasm and spoke to the Great Mollusk, but could no longer see or speak when he ascended. Many stories and poems have been written about It's influence... but when I ruminate more, the tides affect us more than the Great Mollusk. Hrmmm.

He clacked his beak thoughfully.

Thadbroxton Kronweasel clumped into the Bar. He was furiously puffing on a vile smelling cheroot and mutting vile curses under his breath. a highly trained War-Ferret was riding on his shoulder. He clumped up to the bar. Looking up he thought to himself,
"Damn! The barstools are too high. I'm going to need some help here."

At this point help arrived in the form of a slightly drunken oaf, how partonizingly patted the gnome on the head and slurred,
"How we doing Shorty?"

Thadbroxton gave a evil smile and answered,
"Fine you <censored>!"
Then the gnome punched the man in the cods! Screaming in pain the man cluched his battered gonads and crumpled to the floor. Smiling, Thadbroxton used the crumpled form as a step to climb onto the barstool. After situating himself, Thadbroxton let the ferret climb off his shoulder and sit on the bar next to him. Hailing the barkeep, Thadbroxton said,
"I'd like some whiskey for myself, and some ale for Fenris."

Into the bar strode two tall blonde men, one slightly behind the other.

After entering they peered around quizically, taking in the environment, and then walked towards the bar and sat down. One was clad in a grey buttoned up suit, and had a name tag that read ''M. Stuart, Desh-Shrik.'', and the other was dressed in a black suit. He had no name tag.

The man named apparently named Stuart looked at the barman who was cleaning glasses. ''I hear there's a new monster roaming the ocean depths.'' He started. ''It kills men from the inside, but they're still breathing. Empty shells of their former selves.''
He looked at his companion (who the barman guessed was a bodyguard) and held on an ominous pause. ''I'd like a Tornado Cocktail please.''

Without saying a word or even looking at anyone else, Arjel stomped into the bar, making a beeline for the nearest bartender. "Ale. Now. And keep them coming," he snapped, slapping a credit chit onto the counter.

Jaris and Irina calmly sat next to him. "You know, telling other ambassadors that they should suffer unspeakable torment in the seven hells isn't exactly diplomatic, Arjel," Jaris said quietly.

"I could frankly care less if it is. The idiots deserve to be tormented by the gods," Arjel snapped, giving Jaris a challenging look.

Jaris looked back, then sighed slightly. "I'd argue that point with you if I could, but I can't," he said, placing his own credit chit on the counter and signaling the bartender to bring him a drink.

Irina signaled for a drink as well. "Why, exactly, are we even here again?" she asked no one in particular.

Jaris looked evenly at her. "Because not all nations and their diplomats are idiots, Irina. A whole lot of them are. But not all of them."

The three Altan Steppes diplomats began to get gloriously drunk.

And oddly dressed elderly man walks in and sits at the bar.

"Line up three Oyster Shooters for me please," he said to the bar tender.

After getting a quizzical look from the bar tender he continues, "You put an oyster in a tall shotglass with cucumber vodka and top it with a tomato gazpacho. Yes a fresh and raw oyster. No you can keep the pearl if you find one."

"The impact of divinity on mortal civilization? This is a very stubborn bivalve... I think that is the metaphor, yes? Hard to open? My people do not have "gods" as the humans do... our "deity" is the Great and Everpresent Mollusk. It dwells in the deepest chasm, and has always been there. Our swarms warble the stories that the first of us were birthed from It's ancient eggsac, after It fertilized them from It's own spermatophores."

"Sometimes the currents change and our coral homes feel warm water from the deep. We assume this is the Great Mollusk sending us gifts. My great uncle's nephew supposedly delved into the deep chasm and spoke to the Great Mollusk, but could no longer see or speak when he ascended. Many stories and poems have been written about It's influence... but when I ruminate more, the tides affect us more than the Great Mollusk. Hrmmm.

He clacked his beak thoughfully.

A metallic whirring filled the air for several seconds. "HMM...I WAS CREATED BY A DEITY TO FULFILL SEVERAL TASKS. WHILE MOST HAVE BEEN COMPLETED, SEVERAL MORE REMAIN. GODS ARE VERY STRANGE BEINGS. SOME IN KRIOVAL BELIEVE THAT THE GREAT CHIEF IS A DEITY, OR THAT ONE CONTROLS HIS ACTIONS. IT IS VERY PUZZLING TO ME. YOUR SITUATION SEEMS EQUALLY PERPLEXING. PLEASE TELL ME MORE."

"A puppet of another power? Interesting...

"My question is perhaps more rhetorical. Aside from the anecdotal stories of visiting the Great Mollusk, no one has ever seen It nor heard It. Our cultural experience with the Great Mollusk is tangential- if It ever did appear and interact with our people, it was thousands of years in the past."

"It is likely, then, that the Great Mollusk is not a deity at all. It may have simply been a very important squid, or an imaginary creation of an ancient thinker, or a convenient way to explain the Coming of the Nets. I confess it is not my sea of expertise."

A tentacle waved around absently, thwacking Neville in the back of the head. Tyv and Wens were prepared, and ducked away. Spotting the three diplomats from the Altan Steppes putting back pints like it was the last day they would ever be tapping a keg. Pushing her young charge, she took glass in hand and made her way out of the sticky and odd-smelling zone surrounding the squid.

"The next round is on me, folks. Wens Foroun, ambassador from Allech-Atreus. What a show we saw on that Sentient Rights bill!"

During a break in the debate Khan Mongkha shuffles into the bar closely attended by his worried looking assistant Tarmashirin. The Khan rubs his temples contemplatively, " we have made some mistakes Tarmashirin but we did not imagine we would encounter this much opposition. ", the khan whispers.

"We can always reformulate the resolution and resubmit it at some latter date honoured khan" whispers Tarmashirin.

"Yes indeed Tarmashirin, we might. However it seems likely that events here will move on swiftly and issues more suited to the barbarians will find favour, Nomadism is not high on the agenda with most of these nations you know. We are extremely pleased however to have seen such loyalty and support from some nations. We will remember those who have shown such honour to us, and we will remember the insults too." The khan's milky eyes shine in an odd way that disconcerts Tarmashirin.

"Now see if you can fetch me some bengen tea and a drop of tincture of opium, i need to be refreshed for the fight."

Tarmashirin scurries away to the bar in search of the khan's request....

A tentacle waved around absently, thwacking Neville in the back of the head. Tyv and Wens were prepared, and ducked away. Spotting the three diplomats from the Altan Steppes putting back pints like it was the last day they would ever be tapping a keg. Pushing her young charge, she took glass in hand and made her way out of the sticky and odd-smelling zone surrounding the squid.

"The next round is on me, folks. Wens Foroun, ambassador from Allech-Atreus. What a show we saw on that Sentient Rights bill!"

The three Altani diplomats, who had been deep in their cups and chatting morosely, perked up noticeably.

"It was a show, indeed. A show of what, I'll refrain from saying," Jaris grinned.

"absolute freaking idiots...." Arjel muttered under his breath, knocking back his drink in one gulp.

"I'm Jaris Krytellin from Altanar...er...the Altan Steppes. I'm still not used to the new name. My charming, muttering friend is Arjel Khazaran. And this is Irina Misheli," he added, gesturing to Irina, who smiled at Wens and wobbled slightly.

"She's not much of a drinker," Jaris whispered with another grin.

Khan Mongkha and his assistant Tarmashirin wonder in the bar, Princess Ryabat the cultural attache follows them. The Khan and the Princess sit and Tarmashirin fetches them some bengen tea which he has left at the bar for their future uses. The khan puts several drops of tincture of opium into his tea.

" Ryabat, do you think Nogai will care that we did not bribe the A.O. enough? ", asks Monghka.

"No honoured khan, he is too concerned with his personal life and it's being all over the Urgenchi Herald. Do not be to down hearted, their will always be imbeciles and fools who care for noone but themselves. You did your best. We have new business to attend to now.",

" That is comforting Ryabat, my house in the Onugur Himalayas calls to me but you are right we have new challenges and at least we have discovered possible new allies through this process " Mongkha whispers.

" What are your instructions on the funding resolution Uncle? " , asks Ryabat

The khan looks thoughtfull and says, " Well that is rather complicated Ryabat......

Khan Mongkha and his assistant Tarmashirin wonder in the bar, Princess Ryabat the cultural attache follows them. The Khan and the Princess sit and Tarmashirin fetches them some bengen tea which he has left at the bar for their future uses. The khan puts several drops of tincture of opium into his tea.

Darvek trailed them at what he thought was a respectful distance, and to anyone *not* a Kriovaller would be ever-so-slightly outside of one's personal space. When he spoke, his voice was overflowing with earnestness. "If there's anything I can do, and I mean *anything*, just let me know. I'll be over there, with the squid and the metalhead."

"A puppet of another power? Interesting...

"My question is perhaps more rhetorical. Aside from the anecdotal stories of visiting the Great Mollusk, no one has ever seen It nor heard It. Our cultural experience with the Great Mollusk is tangential- if It ever did appear and interact with our people, it was thousands of years in the past."

"It is likely, then, that the Great Mollusk is not a deity at all. It may have simply been a very important squid, or an imaginary creation of an ancient thinker, or a convenient way to explain the Coming of the Nets. I confess it is not my sea of expertise."

"MOST INTERESTING. I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT THE COMING OF THE NETS, IF THE SUBJECT IS APPROPRIATE FOR DISCUSSION."

Darvek made his way toward the Colossus. "LORD DARVEK, PLEASE JOIN OUR CONVERSATION."

"Heh. I'm not so sure," the Kriovaller said, his dark skin lightening several shades. "My brother did some work on one of those 'research vessels' in Japan a few years back, and I'd kind of like to not, well, y'know..."

(Borrin o Redwood and his associates have arranged some comfortable chairs in front of the Bar's widescreen television, and are now "busy" watching a broadcast from the 3rd NSOC Summer Olympics (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=562141) that are taking place in Columbia, UCS.)

The three Altani diplomats, who had been deep in their cups and chatting morosely, perked up noticeably.

"It was a show, indeed. A show of what, I'll refrain from saying," Jaris grinned.

"absolute freaking idiots...." Arjel muttered under his breath, knocking back his drink in one gulp.

"I'm Jaris Krytellin from Altanar...er...the Altan Steppes. I'm still not used to the new name. My charming, muttering friend is Arjel Khazaran. And this is Irina Misheli," he added, gesturing to Irina, who smiled at Wens and wobbled slightly.

"She's not much of a drinker," Jaris whispered with another grin.

Wens gave a friendly chuckle. "This place could drive a teetotaller to guzzle rotgut like water, so I don't judge her at all. Like I said, the next round is on me- Neville! Whatever they're having, we'll have another round."

She pursed her lips, pulling up a chair and motioning for her nephew to do the same.

"I'll apologize in advance for anything the less human members of our delegation might do. They mean well, really- though, steer clear of the bug-man, Admiral Dekas. He has been known to eat people."

She took a sip of her drink matter-of-factly, as if the notion of giant insectoids gobbling up ambassadors was an everyday occurence.

Darvek trailed them at what he thought was a respectful distance, and to anyone *not* a Kriovaller would be ever-so-slightly outside of one's personal space. When he spoke, his voice was overflowing with earnestness. "If there's anything I can do, and I mean *anything*, just let me know. I'll be over there, with the squid and the metalhead."



"MOST INTERESTING. I WOULD LIKE TO HEAR MORE ABOUT THE COMING OF THE NETS, IF THE SUBJECT IS APPROPRIATE FOR DISCUSSION."

Darvek made his way toward the Colossus. "LORD DARVEK, PLEASE JOIN OUR CONVERSATION."

"Heh. I'm not so sure," the Kriovaller said, his dark skin lightening several shades. "My brother did some work on one of those 'research vessels' in Japan a few years back, and I'd kind of like to not, well, y'know..."

"Research vessels are always the first to come. There came a period of time before our people could communicate efffectively with humans that they discovered we tasted quite nice." the squid burbled, possibly making a tongue-in-cheek joke.

"They hunted us for many years, with nets and lines and harpoons, and treated us as food. This period was called the "Coming of the Nets." More religious squid will blame the Everpresent Mollusk for leaving us, but we should likely blame the shortsighted humans.

Wens gave a friendly chuckle. "This place could drive a teetotaller to guzzle rotgut like water, so I don't judge her at all. Like I said, the next round is on me- Neville! Whatever they're having, we'll have another round."

She pursed her lips, pulling up a chair and motioning for her nephew to do the same.

"I'll apologize in advance for anything the less human members of our delegation might do. They mean well, really- though, steer clear of the bug-man, Admiral Dekas. He has been known to eat people."

She took a sip of her drink matter-of-factly, as if the notion of giant insectoids gobbling up ambassadors was an everyday occurence.

"Excellent. You'll get to try some of our ale. It's not bad stuff...although, I imagine they have some pretty interesting drinks where you come from," Jaris grinned.

At the mention of the people-eating Admiral, Arjel looked up from the already-impressive collection of glasses in front of him, a slightly evil glint in his eye. "Bug-man, eh? Wonder if he'd be up for a round of sparring."

Irina looked slightly horrified at that prospect. "Don't go poking the bug-man. We don't need to have to explain to DoS why one of our ambassadors got eaten."

Arjel laughed. "Oh come on. It could be fun," he said with a rogueish grin.

"Crazy freaking Argali," Jaris laughed, affection evident in his voice. He turned to the nephew. "I don't think we caught your name," he said with what he hoped was a friendly smile and not a drunken grin.

Startled by suddenly being addressed directly, the young man blinked and stuttered. "Ah, Tyv. Tyv Foroun. Wens is my aunt, and I'm here on an internship. It's nice to meet you.

"Good to meet you too. Hope I didn't catch you off guard there," Jaris said calmly. Even intoxicated, he was a bit more empathetic than the average Altanari. Irina also offered a reassuring smile, which was slightly marred by the obvious fact that she was quite drunk.

Arjel, meanwhile, had begun stacking the glasses in front of him into a small pyramid.

The sound of several motorbikes approaching can now be heard within the temporary Bar (again). Most of them seem to stop just outside, with their engines just ticking over, but one actually enters this structure and comes into the Bar patrons' view. Its rider is the same anthropomorphic Bear who delivered a message to Borrin o Redwood a few days ago (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13880186&postcount=261). He gazes around the room, and then carefully manoeuvres his bike between the tables until he reaches the place where the group from Bears Armed and its allies (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13916447&postcount=300) are now sitting (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13916447&postcount=300). After a brief exchange of words with Borrin, in the Ursines' own language, he pulls a large, padded envelope out from inside his jacket and hands this over to the ambassador. He then steers his bike back out of the room and the overall structure, to rejoin the others outside, and they all roar away into the distance again...
Borrin puts on a pair of spectacles, opens that envelope, and draws from out of it a parchment scroll that is wrapped around a bar-shaped object. He reads the scroll, nods slightly as if acknowledging something, smiles, and shows the enclosed bar to his companions. Anybody else who is close enough to see it clearly from a suitable angle will recognise it as a (new) name-plate for standing on desks, and be able to read the inscription _


Borrin o Redwood
Regional Delegate to the World Assembly,
International Democratic Union
Ambassador to the World Assembly,
Confederated Clans of Free Bears of Bears Armed

Commander Chiang glanced at Borrin's prize and rolled her eyes as she turned back to Jimmy. "You know, that tiny print is going to be awful hard to read in the debate hall (http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1288/1468208484_418255dfcc.jpg)," she said.

"Eh, maybe it's for his office?" Jimmy suggested lazily as he took a puff off his cigarette.

"Whatever," the woman replied as she hailed a bar hand. "Send a celebratory round of drinks to the Bears' table," she said, pointing out the talking ursine. "Arrogant Bastard Ale, provided they aren't already drunk on their opponents' blood." She chuckled at her own reference to the delegate election. (Because they're ferocious bears, get it? Her-her-her!)

She sighed and turned back to Jimmy, still clutching his cigarette. "You know, smoking causes impotence," she said viciously.

<snip>
A tentacle waved around absently, thwacking Neville in the back of the head.

"I-hope-that-hurt! You-sure-deserved-it!" said Violet, parroting the phrase that BarLordism required to be said to any of its adherents who had been clobbered by a customer. But she rushed to the rescue.

"Are you OK, Nev?" she queried, with real concern. "Here, sit up, I'll get you some ice."

She helped the BarLord slowly to his feet, hampered by the flame-thrower and fire extinguisher strapped to his back.

"Don't you think you could take these off?" she asked. "You've got him pretty much trained by now."

"It's my duty as a parent," Neville said tiredly. "He flamed the Nemonican ambassador the other day when all the poor guy had done was trip over his tail. He's got to learn. And Mme Vermithrax said even a milk dragon would eventually pick it up, if I crisp him lightly every time he gets it wrong."

"It's not as if there'd be a lot of tail-tripping in the wild," Violet demurred. "And, besides, it's not good for the furnishings, setting stuff alight and then soaking it."

"Tough love," said Neville firmly.

"Yeah, sure," said a jaded Dicey Reilly, appearing at the bar with a pop of displaced air. "I mean, it's working with my Foreign Minister over there, right? Like hell it is." She gloomily observed the rest of her delegation, who were -- possibly -- enthusiastically high-fiving a bunch of Kennyites. Though it wasn't being done with open palms. Perhaps the clenched fists made it that terrorist salute thing. Dicey didn't give a damn.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," Neville scolded. "It's upsetting, the way you just pop out of thin air that way. You think you can get away with it now, but I bet the Oldest Coven still has something up its sleeve."

"They've made me President for Life, they can't do anything worse," Dicey responded glumly.*

"Anyway, I've got other hares to chase. As it were. C'mon, cheer me up!" She wriggled a little to the right, not quite creating an open space next to her.

Violet swiftly provided an Old 'n' Funky '88. After a moment's thought, she poured an orange concoction into another glass on Dicey's left.

"She's been a long time between drinks," the barmaid explained to Neville.

"I call it the Casanova Carrot Cocktail," she added, seemingly addressing the not-quite space.

*(and incorrectly).

"Anyway, I've got other hares to chase. As it were. C'mon, cheer me up!" She wriggled a little to the right, not quite creating an open space next to her.

Violet swiftly provided an Old 'n' Funky '88. After a moment's thought, she poured an orange concoction into another glass on Dicey's left.

"She's been a long time between drinks," the barmaid explained to Neville.

"I call it the Casanova Carrot Cocktail," she added, seemingly addressing the not-quite space.

"Thank you. Cheers!"

*(The glass containing the orange drink rises into the air, and its top tilts slightly towards Dicey...)*

Michael walks in looking quite pleased with himself.

"A round for all on government costs! It seems the League of Extraordinary Ambassadors has saved the world from the perils of bad legislation yet again."

A small cheering erupts, perhaps because of the victory, but probably because of the free drinks.

"And make mine a double."

Thanks, this is the message I understand. Cheers, hics, snors....

It seemed that Sakura Yamamoto had missed the fun yet again as a two columns of light formed outside the bar. The whine ceased and in entered the Neo Kirisuban ambassador wearing her familiar yellow kimono and her latest aide. People moved round the fleets fairly regularly after all. Lt Amiko Miromuta was a young girl in her late teens but with long blonde hair unlike the raven hair most of her people sported.

So the ladies headed to the bar wondering what this day could bring.

"Please can I have a cosmopolitian?" she asked turning to her aide who added "could I have a cup of sake please?"

The doors of the Stranger's Bar slowly opened, and at first glance, it wasn't apparent that somebody entered. Perhaps it was a ghost or something?

However, once they were in, they were almost everywhere, trying to learn as much from their environment as possible. The toddler girl climbs up one of the barstools, wondering what was behind the bar and what was the taste of the liquids the bar people were drinking. She looked momentarily at Dicey Reilly, and then sat back down at the barstool, her inexperienced legs buckling from the effort of standing up. Hopefully she'll notice her...

Her brother, meanwhile was busy crawling across the somewhat grimy floor of the bar. He reached one of the tables, and when he looked up, he was awestruck at the sight of a big bear reading a scroll...

Borrin o Redwood felt something tugging at one of his feet. Upon glancing down to check on this, he saw that a small human child was responsible.
He looked around the Bar, to see whether any adult humans present were obviously responsible for this infant...

"Babies?" Amiko half asked half confirmed to her ambassador.

She did the natural thing and picked up the little boy that was tugging at Borrin.

The blonde Kirisuban smiled slightly as she did this. She wasn't responsible for the babies but it was natural to want to keep them safe until it was determined who owned them.

--snip--
--snip--
Being naturally nice, the boy allowed himself to be picked up by the Kirisuban. Anyway, she seemed nice too. He looked at her with his beautiful baby blue eyes, storing images of her in his mind, chuckling as he did. But he wanted to see, hear, tough, and feel the big bear... he hadn't seen such a big bear before. Obviously interested in interacting with the bear, he turned his head towards Borrin and held his hands out, trying to reach him.

Scelestus opened his eyes a second, grinned, and closed them.
"It's funny... I simply close my eyes, and it's as though I've vanished. None of you notice me, none of you realize I'm here for the longest time."
He fell silent a second later.

Being naturally nice, the boy allowed himself to be picked up by the Kirisuban. Anyway, she seemed nice too. He looked at her with his beautiful baby blue eyes, storing images of her in his mind, chuckling as he did. But he wanted to see, hear, touch, and feel the big bear... he hadn't seen such a big bear before. Obviously interested in interacting with the bear, he turned his head towards Borrin and held his hands out, trying to reach him.

"Aww," Borrin thought, "aren't humans cute when they're that young. Considering what so many of the adults are like, what a pity it is that they have to go and grow up..." Seeing the boy's actions, he addressed Amiko politely_
"Yours, is it? Would you mind if I let it touch me?" He slowly extended his left hand, open palm-upwards (and, as appropriate for a diplomat, with its claws trimmed back to "safe" shortness) towards the boy's hands...

"This little angel isn't mine. He just found his way in here" Amiko gently replied handing the baby over to the bear.

He was a WA ambassador and a regular bar patron so he could be trusted in her eyes.

She'd also felt the feeling that all women have when meeting a cute baby. A broody feeling and the simple act of finding them cute enough to look after them. A nagging question did stick in her mind.

Who in the name of the Kami would abandon two cute babies like that in here?

"Abandoned children? The Cute One forbid!"

The old Kawaiian nekomusume took a break from her shrine-tending duties and hurried over towards Amiko and Borrin. Like any Kawaiian grandmother, she was a neverending source of maternal advice, which she had no compuction whatsoever about showering the unexpected couple with. A hasty bow to tend to the obligations of etiquette and she was off, nattering about the proper ways to hold children and keep their attention.

He slowly extended his left hand, open palm-upwards (and, as appropriate for a diplomat, with its claws trimmed back to "safe" shortness) towards the boy's hands...
The toddler touched the paws of the big bear. It was exciting! So that's how the touch of the big bear felt...

"This little angel isn't mine. He just found his way in here" Amiko gently replied handing the baby over to the bear.

He was a WA ambassador and a regular bar patron so he could be trusted in her eyes.
As the Amiko handed him to Borrin, the boy chuckled with delight. He had only been playing and hugging little lifeless teddy bears back in his room... he will be seeing a big living bear up close! He will snuggle up to the bear, feel its warmth, and lie on its soft fuzzy fur...

Meanwhile, over by the bar, a trio of female wabbits were cooing over the little girl... who, like most young children, could see them quite clearly.

"Abandoned children? The Cute One forbid!"

The old Kawaiian nekomusume took a break from her shrine-tending duties and hurried over towards Amiko and Borrin. Like any Kawaiian grandmother, she was a neverending source of maternal advice, which she had no compuction whatsoever about showering the unexpected couple with. A hasty bow to tend to the obligations of etiquette and she was off, nattering about the proper ways to hold children and keep their attention.

Amiko returned the bow as she should and listened as the baby played with Borin. She could take good advice on board and her culture did honour age and experience.

Amiko was sure she looked odd compared to the others here since she was wearing a military uniform even if it was a skirt suit but this bar showed her just how diverse the world was. So she listened to what the Nekomusume had to say.

A rather young gentleman in oriental looking garb enters the bar pushing a cart containing six large boxes. “Six cases of Tzorsland’s Méthode Champenoise from the famous Pindar vineyards of Tzorsland; this should cover our bar tab for the past year I imagine, assuming you sell them at the recommended price.” He pauses a moment to move the cases to the bar. “It’s in honor of the passage of the WA funding resolution. Oh I did forget to introduce myself. I’m Nanki-Poo, Mikado of TiPu, a region within Tzorsland, representative pro-tem for the month of October. The Maharaja of Tzor, who is the normal representative here, has to go to the palace every October in Eyesore to actually do his job as leader of Tzorsland. So while he is there doing all the boring diplomacy stuff I’ll be representing the nation in his absence.”

He looks around and sees the children, “Do they allow children in this place? I must tell my wife Yum-Yum at once. She’s looking for a place to bring the little ones.”

Senator Sulla looks up from his table and says to the Mikando,
"Its all Neville's fault. I warned him about serving tea in a bar, but did he listen? Nooooooooooooo! Its almost wholesome here."

Senator Sulla looks up from his table and says to the Mikando,
"Its all Neville's fault. I warned him about serving tea in a bar, but did he listen? Nooooooooooooo! Its almost wholesome here."

Bob walks over to the Senator, "Personally, I think someone's spiking the tea here with fertility drugs. Just look at how many times someone's had tea here and wound up pregnant."

Khan Mongkha and his assistant sit quietly in a corner, contemplating the strange scenes unfolding in the bar. The Khan sips his Benjen tea, feeling it's powerfull narcotic effect as it reaches through his body soothing away the cares.

" I know you like alcoholic beverages Tarmashirin, i'm sure you picked up that habit in your years with the muskovites, but i will never tire of the tried and tested methods of intoxication used by my forefathers. " the kahn whispers to his assistant.

" Yes your excellency, i wonder if the barman knows to warn the other patrons about its halucinogenic effects? it would be terrible if an unsuspecting diplomat began to see dancing Deer and sky gods in their majesty, without knowing the cause. "

" It would be an improving experience Tarmashirin, and in any case they emetic effects pronounced in first time use are more spectacular than the visions " The khan smiles languidly and imagines the posibilities......

The yellow kimono wearing Sakura Yamamoto seen the oriental party as the little girl made herself at home on a bar stool.

She sipped her cosmo and placed it on the bar before giving the Tzorland Mikado a welcoming bow and smile as well as introducing herself. Sakura was good on the eyes, her long dark hair half way down her back and her oriental beauty was obvious even with being in her mid 30's.

"Welcome to the strangers bar. I'm Ambassador Sakura Yamamoto from the Neo Kirisuban Federation" she said in fluent but slightly accented english adding "to answer your question Nanki-Poo san I'm not sure who owns these little darlings but nobody has chased them out yet."

"to answer your question Nanki-Poo san I'm not sure who owns these little darlings but nobody has chased them out yet."
Borrin overheard the latter remark and quietly (so as not to startle either of the children) murmured a response _
"Why should anybody want to chase them out? After all, they're clearly better-behaved than many of the 'diplomats' that we get around here... Hrr'mm, for that matter, maybe they are some nation's diplomats..."
He gently rumpled the boy's hair.

An elderly man enters the bar and approaches Nanki-Poo. Tapping him on the shoulder he says, "Well I'm off to Eyesore have fun in the WA."

"Have fun in Eyesore Harold," Nanki-Poo replies. "I'm sure that the pallace is going to be far interesting than here."

"Not in the least," King Harold answered back. "New York is one of the most dullest regions in the entire world. Well at least I won't have to duck any pies."

"What?"

"Or have to worry about being thrown out a window."

"Huh?"

"Oh my didn't you read the 'Hitchiker's Guide to the WA?'"

"I only got up to the cover where it said 'It's too late to PANIC.'"

"Well read it. I expect to read your rousing argument in support of child, whatever it is, in the papers this weekend."

"I know. They're adoreable" Amiko replied seeing how well the little boy was getting on well with Borrin.

Meanwhile Sakura sipped her drink again and said "I never read it either. We don't even call Earth home although."

Xen Felgras was not one to normally mix with others outside of work. It wasn't that he was anti-social. In fact, he loved to talk with others. The problem was that he was old, having given up his retirement to take this job only because his experience was needed. His age made it so that, when he wasn't working, he was simply too tired to mingle with the other ambassadors. The Empress had worried about his age when she assigned him, but she needed his experience.

As usual, he had taken a nap after working on their draft for the Diplomat Protection Act. Though he hadn't woken up as usual, Asuka, his personal assistant and slave, wasn't worried. She had woken him up from sleeping too much before, though she loathed to do it. Her master was getting on in years and she worried frequently about his health. Especially since he had no heirs, thus putting her ownership up to question upon his demise. She happened to like this building and did not want to return to the Empire just yet. Even if she never got to see much of it due to how busy she was helping him.

"Master?" Asuka asked as she entered the room, only to find him giving no response. "Master, wake up. You wanted to work more on the draft and... Why isn't your chest moving?"

Reaching up to touch his neck, as she had been trained to do, Asuka blinked. "No pulse. What did the doctor say? No pulse means..." She slumped as she figured it out, slowly lowering down onto her knees. "Oh."

Kria, Xen's top student and the person he had hoped would one day replace him, walked around the corner. She paused at the odd scene... Asuka had never kneeled before Xen at any point she could remember. And then, seeing how he wasn't moving, she quickly figured it out. She approached silently, leaning down to wrap the girl in a hug.

"I'm sorry. We all knew he had to go someday. I'll try my best to make sure you end up with my family. I think he would have wanted it that way," Kria said.

"Are you the diplomat now?" Asuka asked.

"No. Honestly, I don't know half of what he did, and he considered himself an amature. You're the only one he managed to teach everything to," Kria said.

"But... I'm just a slave. I'm not even sixteen yet. I can't. It's against the law," Asuka protested.

"It's only temporary, Asuka. Don't worry. I'm sure the Empire will send someone to replace him. But, right now, we need someone with experience to run things... and that means you."

Asuka, though frowning, nodded. She could see the wisdom in what Kria said, though she didn't know that Kria's methods were purely to keep the girl busy. Kria's family couldn't afford to take in another, slave or not, and the woman was unsure what the girl's fate would be on the auction block. She certainly didn't want Asuka to end up bought by the House of Rats.

An hour later, after mourning in private for a bit, Asuka took some time to wander. She'd heard some of the staff make reference to a bar, though she hadn't ever been in such a place. She paused when she spotted one, seeing the people inside talking... And, figuring it couldn't do any more damage than her daring to speak for the Empire, Asuka went in.

Invisible Wabbits;14030464']Meanwhile, over by the bar, a trio of female wabbits were cooing over the little girl... who, like most young children, could see them quite clearly.

"Maybe us finding this little cutiekins here means that we should give her an even better start in life," one of the trio said to the others, "you know, being as there are three of us here..."
"Are you suggesting we should become 'Furrie Godmothers' to her?" replied one of her friends. "We haven't done anything like that in absolutely ages... and you know why..."
"Well, yes, but they aren't anywhere around here: trust me, I'd have smelled them if they were."
"Oh, do let's!" the third member of their sisterhood interjected. "She's such a little darling, I really want to help her."
"Oh, very well. Hilary, as this was your idea you can focus the power for all three of us."

(There was a pause of a few minutes length, during which anybody present who possesses any supernatural abilities might have sensed a gathering-in of mystical energy around that end of the bar.)

"She will always be able to find her way back home."
"She will always be able to tell when males are lying to her."
"She will always know where her towel is."

"Been reading Douglas Adams again, have you?"
"Hey, knowing where one's towel is can be very important!"
"Whatever... Anyway, after that piece of working, I need a drink. Whose round is it?"
"Yours."
"Oh, pfazzle!"

He gently rumpled the boy's hair.
The boy chuckled as the bear's paws rumpled his short blond hair. He snuggled closer to the warm furry bear, happy at his newfound place and friend.

Invisible Wabbits;14067458']"Maybe us finding this little cutiekins here means that we should give her an even better start in life," one of the trio said to the others, "you know, being as there are three of us here..."
"Are you suggesting we should become 'Furrie Godmothers' to her?" replied one of her friends. "We haven't done anything like that in absolutely ages... and you know why..."
"Well, yes, but they aren't anywhere around here: trust me, I'd have smelled them if they were."
"Oh, do let's!" the third member of their sisterhood interjected. "She's such a little darling, I really want to help her."
"Oh, very well. Hilary, as this was your idea you can focus the power for all three of us."

(There was a pause of a few minutes length, during which anybody present who possesses any supernatural abilities might have sensed a gathering-in of mystical energy around that end of the bar.)

"She will always be able to find her way back home."
"She will always be able to tell when males are lying to her."
"She will always know where her towel is."
Shifting away from longingly viewing the beverage-filled glasses on the bartop, the toddler girl caught sight of three cute furry rabbitlike creatures. She reached out to them, wanting to play with them; she laughed as glittery colorful particles poured forth from their paws as they blessed her.

Khan Mongkha shuffles into the bar attended by his long suffering assistant Tarmashirin who looks fresher than usual, perhaps because he has been in Tabriz to collect documents and a fresh supply of Bengen tea for Mongkha and has spent some time with his sister. The Khan and his servant sit down and survey the odd scene unfolding in the bar between Infants and Bears and Rabbit like creatures thaumaturging and wide eyed Forenstathan slaves girls,


"Honoured Khan, will you really be needing your Bengen tea under these circumstances? I mean to say this place is "mind expending" enough, do you really think Bengen tea wont simply aggravate the situation? " , the bemused assistant asks the elderly Khan.

" Ah Tarmashirin, the Bengen helps me fully comprehend this place without finding it strange and the tincture of Opium is to calm my nerves on realising that this place's nature is extremely vexatious. What news from Tabriz Tarmashirin? ", the Khan whispers ,

" Well honoured Khan, Princess Ryabat's recent association with the Ambassador to Gay Peninsular has been the subject of much gossip. It seems she has a taste for members of the Imperial family these days. " Tarmashirin fidgets and looks uncomfortable, " And Tamerlane has taken to the mineral baths at Uzgen, claiming his ailments are too great a burden to allow him to carry on the business of government. The public are desperate for him to return to Tabriz and apparently are donating to a fund for research into whatever it is that so mysteriously seems to afflict him. Tamerlane has promised to donate the fund to international aid charities which only increases public sympathy for him. Of course the other members of the cabinet all say that his "illness" is feigned in order to disguise his fit of pique at having been bested by Khan Nogai. The other ministers say that Tamerlane will return to relieved acclaim when the Court and Government move to Urgench for the winter. " Tarmashirin looks pleased with his information gathering skills.

The khan looks unimpressed, " The gossipers are wrong Tarmashirin and you are foolish to listen to them, His Excellency the Grand Chancellor is at Uzgen to hold secret talks with certain persons to gather support for his next great reformation of government."

Tarmashirin looks embarrassed " Well i do have other good news, of a sort, The Honoured Khan our minister Nogai has vastly increased our budget again. He says we are to use it for the entertainment of prospective allies and supporters of the anti-discrimination statute we are working on. "

The khan quietly chuckles," Entertainment! Is that what he calls it? The bandit! Well that is exactly what we will do, we shall be throwing a lot of parties, very expensive ones Tarmashirin, you and Princess Ryabat should work closely together on the arrangements for them. We will put this funding to exactly the use Khan Nogai did not imagine it would actually be put to. "

Tarmashirin looks nervous and crestfallen, a lot of work and all the credit for it going to his royal colleague is all he can foresee in the near future, and the possibility that the minister for Foreign Affairs will be highly displeased that his funds will be spent on actual entertaining and not on "securing goodwill".....

Khan Mongkha shuffles into the bar attended by his long suffering assistant Tarmashirin who looks fresher than usual, perhaps because he has been in Tabriz to collect documents and a fresh supply of Bengen tea for Mongkha and has spent some time with his sister. The Khan and his servant sit down and survey the odd scene unfolding in the bar. Infants and Bears and Rabbit like creatures thaumaturging and wide eyed Forenstathan slaves girls,


"Honoured Khan, will you really be needing your Bengen tea under these circumstances? I mean to say this place is "mind expending" enough, do you really think Bengen tea wont simply aggrevate the situation? " , the bemused assistant asks the elderly Khan.

OOC; Of course, it might be the tea that lets him see the Wabbits in the first place... ;)

The Kennyite delegation was in a state of panic. Well, not so much a state of panic as a state of "calm annoyance," and not so much a state of "calm annoyance" as a state of, "they were just bored and looking for trouble." They had heard the buzz in the corridors of the WA, and hadn't liked what they heard. Word was, the Urgenchis actually were planning on moving ahead with that anti-discrimination proposal ... and while they didn't necessarily endorse discrimination, they also didn't endorse unintended stats effects of Human Rights resolutions. They also didn't like being called "homophobes" for adopting a perfectly reasoned, principled stance of being whiny, petulant, contrary pricks.

At any rate, the Kennyites were willing to avoid another awful floor debate at any cost, and having exhausted all discussion on what constructive measures could be taken, they resolved a particularly desperate, if not terribly original, tactic against the Urgenchi contingent: guilt-by-association, with a known terrorist.

Princess Ryabat didn't appear to have noticed the young native Kennyite stalking toward her at her table, where she seemed to be taking a break by herself. "Hey baby," Ambassador Batko-Yovino greeted her suavely, "I got a pound of beef in my pants for you!"

A horrified look seemed to cross the princess's face as she turned to her suitor. "No really," Susa insisted, as he reached into the front pocket of his baggy jeans and produced a package of Hebrew National Frankfurters. "I really do have a pound of beef! It's Kosher, too! ... I also have some nice, hot buns! What say we have Jimmy grill these up and have a good old fashioned Kennyite barbecue dinner? Just you and me! This'll give us a chance to discuss international discrimination legislation."

He took a seat next to her. "See, the thing is, I don't know whether you know this or not, but I actually am a minority in my country, and it's hard knocks for us back home! A lot of my brothers are locked up without charge, without trial, and without access to meddling 'rights groups' and 'religious charities' and ethically challenged, terror-apologist attorneys! They've had their rights taken away from them! And when you think about it, their only real 'crime' was trying to kill scores and scores of innocent people!"

Susa smiled, thinking he was making an impression. "I know that doesn't have a lot to do with discrimination, but that's not the only way we're oppressed. They also racially profile us, especially at airports!" He lowered the band of his underwear to show his new companion a practically microscopic scar right above his Nice Hot Buns. "See that? I got it for rushing airport guards at a security checkpoint while trying to smuggle a highly explosive device on board an aircraft! And then they had the nerve to charge me with a crime! Me! Racist jerks!"

He casually placed his hand on the backrest of Ryabat's chair. "So you can understand why I'm so interested in protecting my rights as a free citizen. ... So tell me, what do you think the chances for passage are?"

From a safe difference, Jimmy (the Kennyite, not the barhand) was keeping watch, pretending to be on a smoking break, while Commander Chiang watched the scene unfold with a disapproving look. "You know, Mr. Baca," she said, "I can understand you occasionally letting that man speak in the General Assembly -- with all the other maniacs in the chanber, who would notice? -- but having him actually socializing with other diplomats?! Are you mad?! What if he tries to explode himself again?

"Eh," Jimmy replied as he put out his cigarette in an ashtray. "He's never succeeded at that before; what makes you think he'll get lucky now?"

Ryabat is suddenly overwhelmed by the thick odour of warm meat and barbarism and the strapping kennyite suddenly before her reels off some loud double entendre and is insinuating himself into her personal space. Instinctively the Princess reaches for the diamonds around her neck and then realises this could look either as though she is touching herself in an unconscious sign of attraction or an obvious sign that she suspects this barbarian of being untrustworthy "Damn it" ,She thinks, "Now I'll have to make nice and offer him a drink or something ".


" you know, I'm not sure we've ever been introduced Ambassador Batko-Yovino ? erm...My Name is Ryabat, how do you do? I'm afraid my Nutritionist Dr. Loyang would kill me if i had meat so close to an equinox, but wont you join me in some champagne? " Something about this barbarian was growing on Ryabat, maybe it was the whiff of Semtex and scorched penguin, but something about him reminded her of the rough warlike men of her father's clan.

" Goodness those buns of yours are really rather appetizing aren't they? " she purred, " A bite or two wont do me any harm i suppose. Do you ride at all? My father does, i think it's so essential that a man can ride well don't you Ambassador ? " ......

Asuka walked in, sighing, and headed to take a seat at the bar. She was mostly alone right now, and still looking down from what had happened. But... She shook her head. No time for that now. Instead, she leans on the counter, waiting for something to happen.

She frowned, leaning back. Unlike the Empress, Asuka prefered more modern clothing and was currently wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt advertising a Foresathan Pop band that was currently popular. It liked to sing songs about bouncing panda babies off walls or something like that... the lyrics were too fast to tell and most people didn't listen to them anyway.

Finally, she smiled, holding up a hand and intending to order a glass of wine... even if her nation did not hold her legal to drink for a few more months.

Ryabat is suddenly overwhelmed by the thick odour of warm meat and barbarism and the strapping kennyite suddenly before her reels off some loud double entendre and is insinuating himself into her personal space. Instinctively the Princess reaches for the diamonds around her neck and then realises this could look either as though she is touching herself in an unconscious sign of attraction or an obvious sign that she suspects this barbarian of being untrustworthy "Damn it" ,She thinks, "Now I'll have to make nice and offer him a drink or something ".


" you know, I'm not sure we've ever been introduced Ambassador Batko-Yovino ? erm...My Name is Ryabat, how do you do? I'm afraid my Nutritionist Dr. Loyang would kill me if i had meat so close to an equinox, but wont you join me in some champagne? " Something about this barbarian was growing on Ryabat, maybe it was the whiff of Semtex and scorched penguin, but something about him reminded her of the rough warlike men of her father's clan.

" Goodness those buns of yours are really rather appetizing aren't they? " she purred, " A bite or two wont do me any harm i suppose. Do you ride at all? My father does, i think it's so essential that a man can ride well don't you Ambassador ? " ......




....... The Kennyite seemed to be responding to Ryabat's abundant charms. But she could tell he thought she was just another dim witted heiress and that perhaps this Kennyite might even be seeking to involve her in more than just a discussion about equality and a clumsily alluded to bump of uglies. But she'd never cared about the consequences of her dalliances before and was hardly likely to change the habits of a lifetime now.


" You know Ambassador, I have a chopper out on the lawn, why don't we take a little spin in it? Champagne really goes to my head at altitude and i never can talk shop without being hundreds of feet in the air and a little drunk, I'm certain you can sympathise"


Khan Mongkha discretely watches the Princess and the Kennyite Ambassador from across the room with a growing sense of dread, Ryabat is so unpredictable and such a liability that the elderly Khan can only presume that Minister Nogai insisted she be posted here to undermine the Grand Chancellor's prospects of international success.

" Tarmashirin" the khan said to his assistant " Will you please take this hair pin to Princess Ryabat, she left it in my office the other day and it is extremely valuable, i don't imagine even she could be so profligate as to have forgotten it. The khan removes a long thin golden hair pin from his robes it has an emerald the size of a walnut carved with writhing serpents as its finial and Mongkha hands it to his nervous looking assistant.

"But your Excellency..." Stutters Tarmashirin

"Do as i say Tarmshirin" The elderly khan's eyes flash and his servant bows his head and walks over to where Princess Ryabat and the Kennyite are seated. Tarmashirin waits until the Princess notices him and then as ever in whispers informs her of his errand and hands her the pin. Ryabat looks puzzled for an instant and then throws an unreadable glance in the direction of Khan Mongkha who bows his head and sips his bengen tea. Ryabat fixes the pin in her long shining black hair with a smooth action, it seems to scintillate and its carved serpents seem to actually writhe. The kennyite Ambassador seems too busy with the business of seduction to pay much heed to all this..........

Grand-General Morig walks in, clanking slightly due to the many weapons on his person. he walks up to the bar and sits down next to Khan Mongkha. "Hello Khan". Places projectile weapon against his side. "Don't move, sit all nice like." Looks at Barkeep. "Beer". waits until the bartender leaves and turns back to Khan. "You and me have much to talk about."

Grand-General Morig walks in, clanking slightly due to the many weapons on his person. he walks up to the bar and sits down next to Khan Mongkha. "Hello Khan". Places projectile weapon against his side. "Don't move, sit all nice like." Looks at Barkeep. "Beer". waits until the bartender leaves and turns back to Khan. "You and me have much to talk about."



Khan Mongkha is horrified as a large barbarian sits next to him, bellowing as all barbarians do, and poking him with unspecified weaponry and insisting on his attention. The Khan instantly registers with disgust that the ignorant foreigner has no concept of how to behave in the company of his betters or how to properly address a person of the Khan's rank. Many , many decades of diplomacy have ingrained such things in the mind of the elderly khan.

"How might i assist you Mr...? " Whispers Mongkha indicating subtly to his assistant to remain calm despite the obvious look of madness in the eyes of his assailant

"Grand-General Morig. I am not a barbarian nor below your rank." Looks at Kahn's assistant and raises eyebrow. "Either start you trouble or get lost."

" Your Excellency seems to be able to read minds, what a very great talent. No one would suggest that you were below my rank your excellency, though it is customary to refer to anyone by their correct honorific. But let us not dwell on such topics. Your excellency clearly has very urgent business, would you care to share it with me " The khan indicates to his servant to leave them in peace

"I never said it was urgent, just wanted to get your attention." Puts away gun. "You have always stood in the way of people making their lives better, and that is why I must say that you must vote yes on the currant regulation or step down." Looks at assistant who has retreated. "I can kill him before he covers a third of the distance, so don't try any thing funny."

" Your Excellency is mystifying, you insist on accosting me with a deadly weapon to inform me that i have "always stood in the way of people making their lives better" and that we should vote at the point of a gun for a measure we voted for this morning!? Are you well your Excellency? Urgench has excellent doctors who may well be able to assist you with whatever "personal issues" your excellency may be going through."

The elderly khan stands up and in his hand is a tiny golden nozzle with a rubber bulb at one end, which looks rather like a pipette, the Khan smiles coldly.

" On being assaulted by your Excellency i took the precaution of using this implement to silently disperse a non-fatal but very powerfull sedative in your vicinity. You have already breathed in enough to render you unconscious for several days, i suggest you have whatever staff you may employ put you to bed for the duration. I warn you never to approach any member of the Urgenchi mission to the w.a. again or next time it will not be sleep which afflicts you so suddenly but something far more dreadful. Good day your Excellency."

As the khan walks slowly away the large barbarian slumps to the ground, his weapons making a loud clashing sound as he hits the floor.

Stands back up and grabs Khan. "We have mastered advanced breathing devices 200 years ago." Slams him into wall. "I should kill you right now, you fool."

Stands back up and grabs Khan. "We have mastered advanced breathing devices 200 years ago." Slams him into wall. "I should kill you right now, you fool."


O.O.C. Ok my last post was not an indication that i wanted to continue any form of r.p. with you. It was a clear indication that i never wish to have to r.p. with you again. Mostly because your not very clever and your r.p. is boring and unsubtle. So by all means carry on assaulting an imaginary old man ( Who is called Mongkha by the way, Khan being his title not his name ) but do so with the knowledge that i wont be indulging your imaginings ever again.


Ciao. U.

OOC: for the information of newcomers _
It is a fact well-established (through a number of earlier posts, by various players including the one who's responsible for the Bar's regular staff) that the Strangers' Bar is fitted with 'Acme Weapons Neutralisers', which turn anylethal weaponry that anybody tries to use there into perfectly harmless alternatives... In some cases this might also affect "non-lethal" weaponry, too...

O.O.C. Would it apply to sedative powders administered by a rubber squeezy deedly with a golden nozzle which one simply squeezes like an old fashioned car hooter? :)

O.O.C. Would it apply to sedative powders administered by a rubber squeezy deedly with a golden nozzle which one simply squeezes like an old fashioned car hooter? :)

Equally OOC: it depends on whether the first person to notice thought of something much sillier for the powder to do, usually to the wielder. But fear not, that gun's probably made of chocolate by now. Also all those fancy, deadly and above all cool martial arts moves have a really bad habit of going awfully wrong in the bar.

Equally OOC: it depends on whether the first person to notice thought of something much sillier for the powder to do, usually to the wielder. But fear not, that gun's probably made of chocolate by now. Also all those fancy, deadly and above all cool martial arts moves have a really bad habit of going awfully wrong in the bar.



O.O.C. yeah cool on film not so much in written word, anyway my crowd are really more lovers ( and genteel drug addicts) than fighters, hence my reluctance to continue with the whole "lets get physical, physical, i wanna get physical-al" scene above. ;)

"I wish to apologize for that."

Something about this barbarian was growing on Ryabat, maybe it was the whiff of Semtex and scorched penguin, but something about him reminded her of the rough warlike men of her father's clan.Susa smiled. His Ticket to Paradise cologne seemed to be having its desired effect on the princess. What he thought would be a disagreeable chore was actually turning out to be a lot of fun. Not at all the terrible shrew the queen he'd been forced to marry a couple years ago had been, this seemed like the kind of girl who enjoyed a good time; besides that, she was rich, she was royal, and she didn't seem to want to vomit at the mere sight of him! And did she mention a helicopter ride? Awesome! He'd always wanted to join the Mile High Club! Um, did helicopters count?

But it appeared there was trouble afoot; others seemed to be competing for her affections. Some handsome dude at the bar had just had delivered to her a very expensive-looking jewel, which she happily accepted and embedded in her hair.

"We're gonna need some more bubbly," the ambassador said as he suddenly jumped from his chair and turned for the bar. "Be right back."

He found this "khan" dude seated at the counter, and pretended to be interested in whatever the barman was doing. "Yo, Jimmy, get me a couple more bottles of champagne, will ya?" he barked, as Jimmy glared at him and rolled his eyes. The Kennyite waited until the khan had turned his gaze, and stealthily pulled a small tube from his jacket and slipped some white powder into the Urgenchi's tea.

That ought to do it, Susa thought with an evil grin as he grabbed the champagne bottles from the barhand. "Drink up, buddy!" he said to Mongkha with a friendly pat on the shoulder, and headed back to his table, eagerly anticipating the decidedly unfriendly surprise awaiting the khan in his teacup.

The surprise likely to befall the diplomat would not be as horrible as Susa was expecting, however, for unbeknownst to the Kennyite, Commander Chiang had replaced his arsenic-laced powder with a harmless extra-strength laxative.

Susa smiled. His Ticket to Paradise cologne seemed to be having its desired effect on the princess. What he thought would be a disagreeable chore was actually turning out to be a lot of fun. Not at all the terrible shrew that the queen he'd been forced to marry a couple years ago had been, this seemed like the kind of girl who enjoyed a good time; besides that, she was rich, she was royal, and she didn't seem to want to vomit at the mere sight of him! And did she mention a helicopter ride? Awesome! He'd always wanted to join the Mile High Club! Um, did helicopters count?

But it appeared there was trouble afoot; others seemed to be competing for her affections. Some handsome dude at the bar had just had delivered to her a very expensive-looking jewel, which she happily accepted and embedded in her hair.

"We're gonna need some more bubbly," the ambassador said as he suddenly jumped from his chair and turned for the bar. "Be right back."

He found this "khan" dude seated at the counter, and pretended to be interested in whatever the barman was doing. "Yo, Jimmy, get me a couple more bottles of champagne, will ya?" he barked, as Jimmy glared at him and rolled his eyes. The Kennyite waited until the khan had turned his gaze, and stealthily pulled a small tube from his jacket and slipped some white powder into the Urgenchi's tea.

That ought to do it, Susa thought with an evil grin as he grabbed the champagne bottles from the barhand. "Drink up, buddy!" he said to Mongkha with a friendly pat on the shoulder, and headed back to his table, eagerly anticipating the decidedly unfriendly surprise awaiting the khan in his teacup.

The surprise likely to befall the diplomat would not be as horrible as Susa was expecting, however, for unbeknownst to the Kennyite, Commander Chiang had replaced his arsenic-laced powder with a harmless extra-strength laxative.



Mongkha bows to Ambassador Batko Yovino's loud remarks and unsolicited physical camaraderie and sips from his bengen tea, his face purses at it's uncommonly bitter taste and he mentally curses his assistant for buying the poorer quality tea and presumably claiming for the finer one in order to pocket the difference.

" Tarmashirin, you thieving ape, what is this bengen you have bought? Yak hair and dung beetle eggs? "

" No honoured Khan it is your usual blend, from the market in Yarkand. The Uighur merchant said it was the finest he could find, in fact i had to pay extra from my own funds in order to cover the cost, i haven't been reimbursed by the ministry yet either " , the khan's assistant looks pained and worried.

" Tarmashirin you are a complete fool, that Uighur robbed you of your money and the ministry's and i have tea which tastes like methylated spirits."

the khan looks distinctly grey, a noise akin to the low gurgling snort of a water buffalo emanates from his bowl. The elderly khan lurches forward clutching his stomach.

" What have you done Tarmashirin?! I'm am poisoned! You simpleton! Curse the tartar street walker who bore you, you dog! You cur! " The Khan hisses in the tone which passes for shouting in the whispered tones of an urgenchi. Tarmashirin looks terrified as he assists his master to the toilet, which they reach just in time. The elderly Khan has not been subject to the dreadful torments of explosive diarrhoea for many years. Not since holidaying in Egypt in his youth in fact. Tarmashirin has never known more acute horror in his life, his masters labours ( surely his last in life ) will end his career, the smell reminds the bewildered assistant of the camel markets of his home town Herat, the noise is reminiscent of blast mining.




Meanwhile back at the bar Princess Ryabat is blissfully unaware of her distant relatives travails. She makes a call to her pilot, and smiles at the lugubrious kennyite ambassador,

" So my pilot is ready when we are your Majesty " she purrs, " what do you say we get out of here and fire up the chopper? " Ryabat flicks her long black hair, her emerald hair pin carved with serpents twinkles, her golden skin glows like silk in the smoky light of the bar, her green eyes smolder beneath her long eyelashes which she flutters at the obviously enchanted Batko who leers at her and clasps the bottles of champagne he put on her tab. the unlikely couple stroll out of the bar.

On their way out Ryabat pauses to greet the Shaman dressed in reindeer skins and horns who is tentatively making his way into the bar. He has been summoned by Khan Mongkha from Trans Baikalia to help the Urgenchi mission with the passage of their Anti-discrimination resolution. The Shaman who rarely leaves the forest ( despite his job in the security secretariat ) is overawed to see the princess of Tocharistan and mumbles a greeting. The Shaman is having a very strange day, many strange and peculiar situations have forced themselves upon his sheltered mind, he settles into a quiet corner of the bar and drinks in all the characters and scenes it contains. His ears prick up and his nostrils flare and he wonders why anyone would wish to slaughter a Musk-Ox in the toilet. He decides to drum ( that is why he was brought here after all ) and takes the drumstick shaped like a serpent from his bag covered in mirrors and begins to beat out a quiet but insistent rhythm on the large flat bearskin drum he carries everywhere he goes. Any one who might be looking might think they see an odd thickening of the air, like petrol fumes, gathering around the old spirit doctor and a smell like that of the snowy Taiga fills the bar ( mercifully canceling out the Shaman's obscene personal fragrance of dead animal and unwashed old man and just about covering the awful emanations from the toilet where Mongkha writhes in discomfort as he looses another four pounds in three seconds )...............

He decides to drum ( that is why he was brought here after all ) and takes the drumstick shaped like a serpent from his bag covered in mirrors and begins to beat out a quiet but insistent rhythm on the large flat bearskin drum he carries everywhere he goes. Any one who might be looking might think they see an odd thickening of the air, like petrol fumes, gathering around the old spirit doctor and a smell like that of the snowy Taiga fills the bar
Alerted by the drumming, Borrin looks in the shaman's direction ... and then focuses his attention more closely on the drum. Something about it makes him feel decidely unsettled...
Having placed the human child who'd been enjoying his company -- and who had now fallen asleep -- on another chair, he withdraws a mobile phone from one of his pockets and places a call to his mission's chief-of-staff.

A few minutes later, another Ursine enters the bar. This one has silvery-grey fur, and is dressed in a leather tunic onto which various bones, pieces of fur, and feathers, have been sewn. Tapping gently on a small drum that is slung at his left hip, he advances towards the Urgenchi shaman...

Jaris Krytellin walked into the bar, the look on his face a cross between irritation and a vague sense of relief. On the way in, he paused at the odd sounds coming from the bathroom. He shook his head, sighed, and walked up to the bar. "I need something alcoholic and strong. And not whatever that poor bastard was having," Krytellin said to the barman, jabbing his finger in the direction of the bathroom.

Nemo Taranton, who had been sitting in the bar the entire time and just you try to prove that he hadn't, raised his hand, cigarette between his fingers, and gestured to Krytellin.

"Ahoy my friend. I think the poor Khan is experiencing some of the finest camillia sinensis that Paradise City has to offer. That's why I stick to spirits. Have a drink, it's on me."

He ignored any glares from Neville, spurred by the ever-increasing Bar Tab That Shall Not Be Named. The large chest of drawers jammed between a wine rack and crates of a rather dark and evil-looking liquid was full to bursting with tabs, receipts, and ledgers detailing the ever-deepening debt of the bar. Nemo was sure that the lion's share of the money from the General Fund would be going to pay off the Bar's debt instead of repairing the multitude of broken windows in the building, which by now rivalled the GDP of large nations.

The Snefaldian took a sip of his cocktail and knocked the ash from his cigarette. He gave a light chuckle.

"The Foreign Ministry is sending me a companion in the office, since it's just myself and a rather uninteresting group of interns. The ones that started launching our library were sent home. They say she's a woman, so I'm keeping my hopes up."

At that moment, into the bar strode a woman adorned in ornate silk robes, looking quite out of place. She also looked to be in her sixties. Producing a photo from somewhere in the voluminous folds of cloth that swathed her, she looked around the bar and walked self-assuredly to the place where Taranton was sitting and with a rather aristocratic air sat down (awkwardly) on the stool next to him.

"Ambassador. I am Abahai of Niuhuru, wife of Giocangga, the Duke of Pehmbuong. I am now assigned to the embassy."

Bewildered at the sight of her, Nemo left his cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth as he blinked in astonishment. She stared at him, unmoving and seemingly unimpressed. Regaining his composure he removed the cigarette and took a drink.

"Sargedain didn't tell me they were sending a-"

"A Baejong?" she cut him off, irritated.

"An aristocrat." he finished. There was a great deal of animosity between many Bajeong and Sringi peoples, as the Sringi had a tendency to look down on their regional neighbours and ignore the culture and political contributions of the former. Taranton knew she was royalty, though- her clan, Niuhuru, was that of the last Namubae Emperor who was deposed by the Republic. Shrugging mentally he turned back to his drink.

"Welcome to the bar. Abahai, this is Jaris Krytellin, from Altanar- sorry, the Altan Steppes. Jaris, Abahai, Duchess of Pehmbuok and apparently the new Charge d'affairs. Something to drink then, Ma'am?"

Jaris was more than happy to take a seat next to Nemo at the bar. "I'll happily take that drink and stand you to one as well. The very thought of going back into the GA right now makes me cringe," he said with a grin.

When Abahai arrived, Jaris silently observed the interaction between the two Snefaldians. He didn't know as much about Snefaldian ethnic relations as he probably should have, but he recognized the tension between the two easily enough. He had seen that kind of tension often enough between Altanari, Akamians and Argali back home....and even within his own delegation.

Jaris was also a noble himself, and one descended from original Altanari nobility at that (not the ridiculous nouveau aristocracy the Federation created out of thin air and good wishes, he thought.) He gave Abahai a short, graceful bow of the sort an Altanari uses when greeting a notable personage of similar standing.

"A pleasure to meet you, Duchess Abatai," Jaris said politely. "I hope being an aristocrat isn't a bad thing," he added with a suddenly rogueish grin. "Although, I must concede that some of my fellow Altan aristocrats, at least, can be quite the bastards. Our history isn't exactly sunshine and lollipops though."

Alerted by the drumming, Borrin looks in the shaman's direction ... and then focuses his attention more closely on the drum. Something about it makes him feel decidely unsettled...
Having placed the human child who'd been enjoying his company -- and who had now fallen asleep -- on another chair, he withdraws a mobile phone from one of his pockets and places a call to his mission's chief-of-staff.

A few minutes later, another Ursine enters the bar. This one has silvery-grey fur, and is dressed in a leather tunic onto which various bones, pieces of fur, and feathers, have been sewn. Tapping gently on a small drum that is slung at his left hip, he advances towards the Urgenchi shaman...



Of all the sights the Shaman had seen at the w.a. the sight of a Bear-Shaman was perhaps the least surprising. Back in Trans-Baikalia the Shaman had seen a Sad Dbag spirit invest another shaman's body and transform that shaman into a great black bear which cast out sky demons from herd of Reindeer.

The Shaman changed the song his was singing to tell of how he came by the carcass of a bear, which had starved during its winter sleep, stretched out on a huge boulder by the great lake. He sang of how he had honoured the bones of this lord of the beasts, of how he had scattered red cinnabar upon those bones and burnt juniper berries to help guide that companion of the Onghott Spirits to the forests of heaven where no snows ever drift and no clouds of flies torment those who dwell there. The Shaman recalled how the spirit of that bear had appeared to him and thanked him for his right offerings and told him to take a part of the hide the bear would not need now his spirit was with Tengri and to use this hide to make an uncommonly powerful drum which would roar like the bear to terrify the wicked spirits which torment the living.

The Shaman sang the song of honour for the bear god Buunt the loud voiced, the master of the rivers, the enemy of deceivers. The Shaman sang of those holy bones of that sacred beast on that boulder by the great lake, so potent that no sky demons haunt that place...........

The Bajeong woman regarded the Altani official for a moment, and nodded her head curtly in a display that indicated she clearly thought she was of a higher station. Nemo shrugged his shoulders, silently mouthing "oh well" to Jaris.

Bajeong women had a reputation as being strong and fierce, and being a Niuhuru and descendant of the most famous female Emperor in Bajeong history, Abahai certainly showed that self-assured and independent attitude, aristocratic tendencies notwithstanding.

Taranton motioned to Neville to bring Abahai something to drink, and turned back to Jaris.

"I heard Alana Kasimira was in Snefaldia recently, one of those state visits bigwigs go on. I'm guessing there were a bunch of speeches from my people and yours about friendship and unity and internal security. You know, the usual stuff."

Walked back to a corner table and deals a game of poker to self.

Walked back to a corner table and deals a game of poker to self.

"Playing with yourself, Doc?" enquires a voice from out of what had previously seemed to be empty air. "Don't you know that that can make you go blind?"

(There is a chorus of chuckles from round-about.)

"Say, if it's Poker you want to play, me and one or two of the boys would be interested in playing too... 'Albukoikie Hold-em' okay? The name's Harvey, Harvey McWabbit, by the way; who are you?"

The Bajeong woman regarded the Altani official for a moment, and nodded her head curtly in a display that indicated she clearly thought she was of a higher station. Nemo shrugged his shoulders, silently mouthing "oh well" to Jaris.

Bajeong women had a reputation as being strong and fierce, and being a Niuhuru and descendant of the most famous female Emperor in Bajeong history, Abahai certainly showed that self-assured and independent attitude, aristocratic tendencies notwithstanding.

Taranton motioned to Neville to bring Abahai something to drink, and turned back to Jaris.

"I heard Alana Kasimira was in Snefaldia recently, one of those state visits bigwigs go on. I'm guessing there were a bunch of speeches from my people and yours about friendship and unity and internal security. You know, the usual stuff."

Jaris gave Nemo a polite grin, choosing to ignore the snub from the Bajeong diplomat. If Jaris had been feeling a little more mischevious, he could have pointed out that as Count of Nalioka and sworn Armsman to King Aelkyn, he was fourth in line for the Altanari throne and therefore not exactly unimportant. His innate politeness, however, caused him to shrug it off. He took his seat again.

"Yes, the President just gave a speech to your Congress of Notables. It was pretty much the same speech she's been giving everywhere else she's been so far, but not a bad speech nevertheless," Jaris laughed. "Oh, and our State Department finally got around to sending you guys an ambassador (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14122686&postcount=44)," he added, taking a swig from his drink.

"Yes, the President just gave a speech to your Congress of Notables. It was pretty much the same speech she's been giving everywhere else she's been so far, but not a bad speech nevertheless," Jaris laughed. "Oh, and our State Department finally got around to sending you guys an ambassador (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14122686&postcount=44)," he added, taking a swig from his drink.

"Most speeches usually are the same thing. All the chatter about things being decided behind closed doors is so true the people would riot if they knew."

He lit another cigarette and brushed back his hair.

"That's good news on the ambassador, though we're at the point right now where we're struggling to find diplomats who have a pulse. Our ambassador to the Resurgent Dream dropped dead of a heart attack last month, and our man in the Federal Republic was found dead in a very compromising position with a member of Paradise City's less reputable professional organizations. I keep telling them not to send old white men with unusual sexual preferences and penchants for pork abroad, but I don't think they listen too much."

"Mr. Baca, some information I recently overheard in the Strangers' Bar which may be of some interest to the State Department," spat Commander Chiang as she presented the deputy ambassador with a briefing paper. They were in Jimmy's office, but since no one knows if the new headquarters have even been built yet, they could just as easily have been in a trailer in the parking lot.

Jimmy glanced at the document. "Um, when you say 'overheard,' you mean casually, or while reviewing recorded surveillance, or 'overheard' during torture...?"

Chiang gave Jimmy a cryptic smile. "I'll let you decide, boss," she said coyly.

"Wonderful," said the diplomat, rolling his eyes, "and the gist of it is, basically...?"

"Snefaldia's ambassador to the Federal Republic died, at some unspecified time, in some unfortunate incident, at some unspecified 'professional organization.' But on the bright side, he died with a smile on his face."

"And how long until they planned on giving us this piece of news?"

Chiang shrugged.

Jimmy sighed. "You know, this is so typical of...well, basically everybody: so reluctant to deal with us directly that we have to 'casually overhear' crucial changes to diplomatic assignments at the Strangers' Bar!" Jimmy was readying to hurl something from his desk across the room, but managed to control himself. "Any word on who this dude's replacement is?"

"None."

"And funeral arrangements?"

"In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Planned Parenthood of Omigodtheykilledkenny, STD Prevention and Awareness Office..."

Jimmy groaned; Chiang was smiling mischievously.

"Good work, Commander; I have to get Sammy on the phone. In the meantime, keep a tab on Susa; make sure the only person to be embarrassed by his above-ground hijinks (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14107405&postcount=353) is himself."

"Yes, Mr. Baca," Chiang assented, and turned for the door.

OOC: Erm... (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14120020&postcount=269) posted yesterday. :p

OOC: Sorry -- for some reason it didn't show up in my subscriptions folder.

Funny stuff! :D

"Most speeches usually are the same thing. All the chatter about things being decided behind closed doors is so true the people would riot if they knew."

He lit another cigarette and brushed back his hair.

"That's good news on the ambassador, though we're at the point right now where we're struggling to find diplomats who have a pulse. Our ambassador to the Resurgent Dream dropped dead of a heart attack last month, and our man in the Federal Republic was found dead in a very compromising position with a member of Paradise City's less reputable professional organizations. I keep telling them not to send old white men with unusual sexual preferences and penchants for pork abroad, but I don't think they listen too much."

"I keep telling our State Department not to send rookies who've never had an assignment abroad or retired people on the verge of death. They never listen to me either. Thankfully, though, our ambassadors manage to behave themselves. Either that, or they do a damn good job of covering their misdeeds up," Jaris said with a wry smile.

Ain't that the truth, Jaris thought to himself, recalling some of the things that had happened behind closed doors in the various offices of the old Altanari UN mission, before the transition. If people only knew...

Invisible Wabbits;14122685']"Playing with yourself, Doc?" enquires a voice from out of what had previously seemed to be empty air. "Don't you know that that can make you go blind?"

(There is a chorus of chuckles from round-about.)

"Say, if it's Poker you want to play, me and one or two of the boys would be interested in playing too... 'Albukoikie Hold-em' okay? The name's Harvey, Harvey McWabbit, by the way; who are you?"

I am Grand-General Mirog. But you can just call me Mirog. :Flips on Heat scope." You don't appear on my scanners why is that?

The Shaman is entranced by his singing and drumming, his corner of the bar is darker and the air is thicker around him. Anyone nearby would smell the hoare frost and wind blistered pines of the Taiga forest.

the Shaman can see Princess Ryabat in his minds eye. She is high above the W.A. in her private helicopter showing the Kennyite the very best of Tocharian hospitality. The Shaman sees the emerald hair pin carved with writhing serpents in Ryabat's hair. The Shaman beats his drum with his serpent shaped drumstick. As he does so he concentrates on his vision of Ryabat who is laughing and quaffing champagne and pretending to be amused by Ambassador Batko Yovino.

The Shaman whispers a single word and in his vision he sees Ryabat's face suddenly change. She looks surprised and slightly blank. She reaches for her purse and removes an extremely tiny device made of gold which she slips into the drink of Ambassador Batko Yovino as she reaches forward and kisses him passionately. The Kennyite does not notice and swigs his champagne to the last drops in order to concentrate on Ryabat.

The Shaman is pleased with his work. He smiles and thinks how interesting the results of this harmless device's workings will be. He drums more quietly now and sings in a barely audible hum. The smell of the forest fades around him and is replaced by his usual fetid personal odour resulting from his wild and woolly lifestyle....

I am Grand-General Mirog. But you can just call me Mirog. :Flips on Heat scope." You don't appear on my scanners why is that?
"Hey, we're not called 'Invisible Wabbits' for nothing, Doc," replies the voice. "It wouldn't be much good if we could be seen as easily as that, now, would it?"

"Either that," another voice from out of thin air chimes in, "or you're only imagining that somebody's talking to you, huh, Elwood?"

Of all the sights the Shaman had seen at the w.a. the sight of a Bear-Shaman was perhaps the least surprising. Back in Trans-Baikalia the Shaman had seen a Sad Dbag spirit invest another shaman's body and transform that shaman into a great black bear which cast out sky demons from herd of Reindeer.

The Shaman changed the song his was singing to tell of how he came by the carcass of a bear, which had starved during its winter sleep, stretched out on a huge boulder by the great lake. He sang of how he had honoured the bones of this lord of the beasts, of how he had scattered red cinnabar upon those bones and burnt juniper berries to help guide that companion of the Onghott Spirits to the forests of heaven where no snows ever drift and no clouds of flies torment those who dwell there. The Shaman recalled how the spirit of that bear had appeared to him and thanked him for his right offerings and told him to take a part of the hide the bear would not need now his spirit was with Tengri and to use this hide to make an uncommonly powerful drum which would roar like the bear to terrify the wicked spirits which torment the living.

The Shaman sang the song of honour for the bear god Buunt the loud voiced, the master of the rivers, the enemy of deceivers. The Shaman sang of those holy bones of that sacred beast on that boulder by the great lake, so potent that no sky demons haunt that place...........
The Shaman is entranced by his singing and drumming, his corner of the bar is darker and the air is thicker around him. Anyone nearby would smell the hoare frost and wind blistered pines of the Taiga forest.

the Shaman can see Princess Ryabat in his minds eye. She is high above the W.A. in her private helicopter showing the Kennyite the very best of Tocharian hospitality. The Shaman sees the emerald hair pin carved with writhing serpents in Ryabat's hair. The Shaman beats his drum with his serpent shaped drumstick. As he does so he concentrates on his vision of Ryabat who is laughing and quaffing champagne and pretending to be amused by Ambassador Batko Yovino.
Reassured by the Urgenchi shaman's account of his drum's origins, the shabear sees that he is too deeply involved in his rite for a conversation and so goes over to the table where Borrin sits to explain the situation to him.

Invisible Wabbits;14147639']"Hey, we're not called 'Invisible Wabbits' for nothing, Doc," replies the voice. "It wouldn't be much good if we could be seen as easily as that, now, would it?"

"Either that," another voice from out of thin air chimes in, "or you're only imagining that somebody's talking to you, huh, Elwood?"

Elwood Jay Blues is dead. But then wabbits how can i know you are not cheating?

Elwood Jay Blues is dead. But then wabbits how can i know you are not cheating?

"Cheat? US?!?"


(There is a chorus of giggles, chuckles, and outright guffaws...)

Invisible Wabbits;14151529']"Cheat? US?!?"


(There is a chorus of giggles, chuckles, and outright guffaws...)

Yes you.
:looks around and realizes it is coming from all around him: How many of you are there?

Yes you.
:looks around and realizes it is coming from all around him: How many of you are there?

"Oh, lots, Doc: lots and lots and lots (http://www.nationstates.net/wabbit_assembly)..."
"... and lots (http://www.nationstates.net/invisible_wabbits)."

Invisible Wabbits;14158643']"Oh, lots, Doc: lots and lots and lots (http://www.nationstates.net/wabbit_assembly)..."
"... and lots (http://www.nationstates.net/invisible_wabbits)."

:Lights cigar: Good thing you are only rabbits then is it not?

The Shaman from Trans-Baikalia sits in his dark corner of the bar lost in a reverie. Images float before his eyes of Princess Ryabat's helicopter landing outside the W.A.... of Ryabat hurrying from the helicopter with a look of horror on her face. Urgenchi security guards rush to protect her as a figure of a man on all fours leaps from the helicopter on to the lawn..... The man is the Kennyite Ambassador to the w.a...
the Shaman smiles as he sees Ambassador Yovino bound across the gardens of the w.a. as happy as the Reindeer Buck the device he has swallowed has made him him believe he is... This device is used to promote breeding in the Reindeer herds the Shaman's people are famed for husbanding, it fills the animal's body with reindeer sex hormones and induces a breeding frenzy in the beast in question. These effects are harmless and usually fade after a while but they are powerful.

Ambassador Yovino's face floats before the Shaman's it is a picture of animal certainty and self possessed determination. The Ambassador will not stop his peregrinations until he finds a suitable female to mate with or until the powerful animal hormones coursing through his body have worn off.

The Shaman's smile broadens as he sees Yovino halt his flight into the shrubbery to relieve himself in animal fashion, the urine is acrid and musky... the Ambassador is marking his territory, any males in his vicinity will have to lock horns with him and do battle for the available females and all must heed this chemical demarcation.

Ryabat flees into the w.a. her face a picture of shock, dismay, and incomprehension, she is totally unaware that she was manipulated with sympathetic magic into slipping this cunning instrument into the Kennyite Ambassador's champagne and is beginning to wonder if the Tabloids back in Urgench might be right about her. Maybe she does drive men wild and out of their senses. She feels a trip to the Spas in Tashi Lumpo coming on.....

Wabbits you still there?

Wabbits you still there?
"No, you were only imagining us..."

(Chuckles... ;))

Washed-Up Ambassador Eduard Heir stumbles into the Stranger's Bar on a unearthly dark and gloomy night, with a combination of the mysterious and creepy presence of Jack the Ripper and the wildness (and bad hygiene) of a Yeti. Now bearded with swollen eyes and a drunken swagger, his presence turns the heads of many in the bar who remember Eduard otherwise, some who thought he was dead, or others just startled by the disorderly drunk haggardly man disturbing the peace.

This was the first time the Unibot Ambassador had stepped into the Stranger's Bar, and after seeing the quizzical faces on many in the pub he decided to explain why he was here in a drunk and loud way, addressing the members of the pub with a toothless smile "The um..old ministry of intelligence and logistics decided to bust the Bar de le Moitiè Mort down the road, they kicked me out into the snow and said get out, seems they might have caught an anarchist in one of the rooms there, that might have something to do with that, um, arson you guys experienced a while back." With the bar now totally quiet, Eduard's drunken smile fades, "So, I was going to crash here for a while until the Bar de le ...whatever gets back up and running, nether the less I need a place to drink myself to death, god knows I might just sober up and remember my fucking past". Belligerently Eduard walks over to a barstool, asking for a pint from Neville with little manners.

"Sure... all you guys remember it for me anyway, ye won't let me forget, a guy who couldn't even get a silly environmental bill passed...I bet ye piss ass socialites thought I was dead or in some trolley heading to Lazarus somewhere. In a couple of months I went from ambassador of Unibot to some "observing" ambassador with enough power to watch others talk...but whatever you think about me now...ye wrong, I just got a call from the Stash Kroh embassy, they want me back! Ye hear, I'm making a comeback, maybe I'll even make Ambassador Weekly again, except this time I'll be on the Hot list instead of the Not. Take that!"

Grabbing the beer from Neville, looking at him manically, "What are you looking at, Hairdo", scratching his thick black beard, "Ye never seen a man rise from the ashes before?"

Grabbing the beer from Neville, looking at him manically, "What are you looking at, Hairdo", scratching his thick black beard, "Ye never seen a man rise from the ashes before?"

"You know, you're probably not going to get too phar in the bar with those manners, but hey that's just my opinion." said Richard only slightly sardonically, after coming out of a long reverie

After an hour or so, the immediate need to show self-contentment to the obviously more successful politicians around the room, and the drunken optimism he had show earlier had worn off on Eduard. Possibly because the alcohol was starting to get him, or he was merely moving on from the denial stage, into an inevitable state of depression. Eduard looked at Richard with a cold, heartless expression, attempting to put fear into his belly. Pulling a cigarette from his stained suit jacket (this happened to be the last suit that anyone from the assembly had seen him in since the failure of his last proposal). He held the cigarette high, and turned his head to Neville, “Ye do allow smoking, right?” Without a reply Heir lit the cigarette with an open flame from a candle on the table and put it in his mouth, taking a long drag on it. Turning his head back to Richard, he prepared himself to do a depressing lecture that would be expected from a matured politician such as Eduard.

“Ye know what’s wrong with society, some day’s ye the hero and some days ye’ the villain, those children book’s have got it all wrong. Maybe the walrus was just trying to look out for the oysters, figured they had a bad life ahead of them, maybe that magical castle needed to come down, or that princess…was just having a bad day. What I’m trying to say is, bad things make bad people, but bad people don’t necessarily do bad things. That was what my father said at least, right before he killed my mother”. Chucking with a cold drunken laugh he finished his speech by muttering under his laughter “explain that one to Freud.” Apparently the rest of the Stranger’s Bar didn’t appreciate his sense of humor, and Eduard sat back down in silence, signally Neville for another drink. Putting several brands of antidepressants into his mouth, which he eventually washed down with a mouthful of booze.

Eduard starred out of the window of the Stranger’s Bar; it was now nearing five o’ clock in the morning. Well past the hour many of the usuals stayed (that is if Eduard hadn’t scared the usuals away already) Heir was dozing in an out, mumbling and staring at his wristwatch with a psychotic fixation. That was… until two armed and dangerous field operatives busted into the pub, with the snow and the wind escaping from the opened door, flashing beams of light from their flashlights into the faces of Neville, and some of the other baffled and confused usuals that had just woken up from a drunken stupor most likely. The lankier, and clean shaven one of the duo stepped forward pointing a gun and barked orders at the patrons of the pub “Put your hands on your head, and get down on the ground, on your knees, this is a bust; I’m Observer Wilkins and my partner Detective Fields, representing the NationStates Ministry of Intelligence and Logistics…” . Many of the pub, still in shock got down on their knees, never experiencing such a thing as a ministry bust before, Wilkins flashed his badge at them. Fear for the future of his establishment flashed through Neville’s mind quickly, as he turned pale from fright, shivering on the cold ground with his hands over his head.

Eduard didn’t move from his bar stool; in fact never turning around even to look at the armed duo. He could tell from the reflection on his empty drinking glass that the two were pointing their guns at him, moving in closer, and even signaling one other. As the two inched closer to Eduard, Observer Wilkins spoke again with a commanding voice, “Eduard Heir, ambassador to Unibot, you’re under arrest for suspicion of arson and terrorism, and an attempted evasion of the law, my partner will now read your rights out, while you get down on your knees, with your hands behind your head”. Wilkins said that last line with a bit of shakiness. Eduard’s face faltered, turning red and gasping for breath. Detective Fields was the one who heard the abnormal breathing first and even pulled back Observer Wilkins, giving him a concerned look. Eduard let out a shriek “I didn’t burn the UN building, I was just a kid!” In a sudden change of pace, Heir got up off his stool, staggering to walk in a straight line. With the sudden movement, the duo simultaneously fired their guns to find their guns were both nullified by some bizarre force.

Gasping for air, Eduard collapsed to the floor. Detective Fields and Observer Wilkins looked at each other with expressions of bewilderment, they argued back and forth “did you get a shot in?”, “I know I didn’t”, “well, my gun didn’t fire”, “but then why did he collapse?”. The last line was said with both suspicion and curiousness and finally, Fields found the courage to walk over to the dieing man on the floor. Pulling the body of Eduard to face the ceiling, and using a flashlight to the pupils and a pulse check to prove that Heir was breathing but with some irregularities. The deduction was simple for Fields, “he’s going into cardiac arrest”. On that note Wilkins went into protocol mode, shouting at the patrons of the pub to call for an ambulance, he grabbed a chair and sat in front of Eduard, staring at him with cold piercing eyes

“I’ve got ten minutes before you’re probably going to die, so I want you to tell me everything, we know it was you Eduard. Think about it, ye a young kid who’s got a bright future, CEO of a company, and you’ve got a multitude of resolutions that ban it. But ye needed the international connections for your corporate plans, destroying the UN from the inside was smart, making it look like an anarchist, brilliant! But we all know it was corporate greed…or some misguided youthful idealism, just admit to it, and maybe, I’ll save your life” Wilkins said the last line with a psychotic grin on his face. Eduard coughed a ball of spit in his face and barked back at him between heavy breaths “the fire…wasn’t…me…you’ve…got…the…wrong…man…” Heir fell unconscious, hanging on the last word. Wilkins looked at Fields for answers, who decided to search through Eduard’s pockets, finding a lighter, some pill bottles and a small bag of white powder. Fields deduced further, “the cardiac arrest is due to some mix between the antidepressants and the alcohol, I’m going to try something kind of radical…”. The detective grabbed the bag of powder, and ripped it over Eduard’s face, particularly his nose. “Breath goddammit!” shouted Wilkins, Fields starred at Eduard with distress in his eyes, “I sure hope that was cocaine and not anthrax”.

Jimmy jumped from his seat in thunderous applause. "Bravo!" he cried out. "Commander, throw something to them!"

Cdr. Chiang, still seated, sipping her Jameson, coolly produced a matchbook from a fabulous nightclub and tossed it to the performers.

"Wonderful playacting!" Jimmy said enthusiastically as he sat back down. "Probably the best I've seen since I took this job."

"And you're sure they were acting?" Chiang asked.

"Well, they would have to be!" Jimmy opined. "I mean, weapons aren't allowed. They turn into completely useless objects if you try to bring them in here, and the fire? Eight months out and suddenly the Ministry of Whatever cares who set it? And besides, why would they nab some guy from some no-name country when everybody knows the top suspect is Susa--?"

"Quiet!" whispered Chiang urgently. "Ambassador Batko-Yovino is in a standoff right now on the WA floor. For once he's doing something useful! If you wreck this for him I'll never forgive you!"

"Fine, whatever," Jimmy shrugged. "Buy these dudes a drink or something."

Chiang turned slightly and signaled to Neville to give the actors whatever they wanted.

[I] ... Fear for the future of his establishment flashed through Neville’s mind quickly, as he turned pale from fright, shivering on the cold ground with his hands over his head...

... trying to reach the Acme Multitemporal Transmogrifier foot controls he'd installed under the counter. He hadn't time for anything fancy, but with a bit of a wriggle he was able to get one knee on the Big Red Button ...

With the sudden movement, the duo simultaneously fired their guns to find their guns were both nullified by some bizarre force.

"Well, at least that bit worked," the BarLord gasped. How that precious pair had got into the Bar armed was more than he could figure -- Acme was in for one of his more spectacular dissatisfied client calls. Perhaps he'd let himself be mollified if they offered him a free Disemvoweller to shut him up. That'd show those damned foul-mouthed dolphins. But meanwhile, there was drama unfolding before his eyes.

shouting at the patrons of the pub to call for an ambulance, he grabbed a chair and sat in front of Eduard, staring at him with cold piercing eyes <snip interrogation>

"Ahem," Neville said politely, appearing behind the trio. "Excuse me, gentlemen, but we have provided a suitably seedy alley outside for undertakings such as the one you appear to be, um, undertaking. However, before you repair to that venue, I believe you should consider this and this."

Keeping a respectful distance from the armed (well, effectively disarmed)figures, he kicked forward a battered flamethrower and an equally decrepit fire extinguisher, both bearing leather straps to attach them to the body.

"These were worn by me recently during the childhood and adolescence of my ... ward," Neville explained. "A baby milk dragon from Randomea who had -- quite unaccountably -- adopted me as a father figure.

"I used these accessories to explain to him the unwisdom of breathing fire on our patrons, and to counteract the effects of his flames," the BarLord continued wordily.

"However, during his teenage years ... well, to cut a long story short, on the night of the fire he'd been sent to bed early for flaming in the Bar, and if something had still been smouldering unnoticed ... or if he'd cried himself to sleep and hiccupped ... well, nothing was ever proven ... " Neville was having trouble controlling his voice. He really missed his tempestuous charge, even though he knew the young dragon had to learn the ways of his own kind.

"The point is, though," he added, putting a brave face on it, "before you start disturbing my patrons, it would be well to be absolutely certain of your facts.

"I will add the expense of this fracas to your bill. And I hope he's not dying," he added coldly, eyeing the gasping Eduard, "because if he does I'll have to reset the entire Bar to a timeline where he doesn't. And that, my friends, costs triple."

It wasn't the most heroic of exit lines, but Neville felt it met the demands of the situation. Trembling from fright, eh? Shivering on the cold ground, eh?

Maybe he'd make it quadruple.

Detective Fields, anxiously watched the dieing corpse on the floor, leaning over top of him and staring into his eyes, creating an ominous eclipse in Eduard’s vision of the well lit ceiling. The narcotics hit his blood stream, with several coughs Heir’s breathing regulated. Fields checked the ambassador’s pulse again, fearing the bartender might do something ridiculously painful to him if he didn’t save Eduard’s life. He could see the ambulance lights through the windows, and noticed Wilkins leaving to the door, waving at patrons of the bar to make way for the paramedics. Fields grabbed Eduard, “hold on, bud…just hold on…” he whispered in his ear as Eduard started to shiver with shock. Then the moment was gone, and Fields was separated from the ambassador by two burly paramedics with a stretcher and in a blur Eduard was taken away. Observer Wilkins screamed at Fields, “stay here, there’s only room in the ambulance for one, I’ll call in for you!” and the detective nodded. He watched as Wilkins stepped into the back of the ambulance with the doors closing right after him. Then they were gone, and silence fell across the bar, many of the patrons including Fields watching the ambulance drive away, turning the corner with the wheels spinning in the thick slush and snow.

Fields turned around and sat at the bar. The detective laughed, “well, I suppose this calls for a drink, then.”, and the bartender smiled and fetched him a drinking glass, “right after you pay for the damages.”


(O.O.C, it was good role-playing with you guys, had fun! Ardchoille, your post made me laugh very hard, and no I didn’t kill Eduard. He’ll be back sometime, and hopefully all of this will be explained, I have an idea, but dahm the ministry and its blatant mistakes! Sorry I didn't read your guidelines for the RP because I just found them, I knew from the past posts that the weapons would be nullified but didn't know Neville was off bounds for RPing, next time I'll use Jimmy, thanks for being cool about it anyway).

Detective Fields dropped his badge on the bar, after a couple of drinks. “That’s the last job I work with the ministry” he moaned, “stupid observer, bet you he figured he could blackmail the guy with some bullshit story and I was dumb enough to follow him and run the bust for him. Ye know, the setting just seemed right, the Bar de le Moitie Mort, with all of those criminals and anarchists hanging around. It made sense I suppose, then Eduard got away. Actually… he ran up the stairs to the balcony and jumped into a snowbank, crazy drunk. Thats when we followed him to here" Fields shook his head, “I feel conned”. He sat there for a couple of minutes and then realized that no police car had come, Fields turned his head and asked Jimmy “the bugger did say he was calling in for a ride, for me, right!?”, Jimmy nodded his head, “yeah I think so”. Fields some how was convinced by the word of a man who was silly enough to think the last sequence of events was acting, and got up from the bar stool. “I need to get to that hospital, that bastard’s probably trying to get at him right now…I got to go”. Fields ran to the payphone, putting in a quarter to call for a cab.

"What an esoteric little nook of the world this has become. You leave for a few years, and everything goes to Hell. Alas, such is the way of things. And there exists no greater duty of man than to press onward, nose to the grindstone and all that, so that the wheels of progress might turn."

"But first, methinks a drink is in order."

With due ceremony, Neville unhooked a small golden key from the chatelaine at his waist. Solemnly he unlocked the Lamented Regulars cabinet and carefully removed, polished and filled an elegant drinking vessel engraved "Sophista".

"If your tastes haven't changed, this one's on the house," he said. "If your tastes have changed, the replacement's on the house. So, what's new in Sophista?"

The day was a dry winter morning; the pub was humming with activity for such early hours. When Ambassador Eduard Heir walked into the Stranger’s pub, silence fell across the bar, those who hadn’t been there a couple of weeks before to see the cardiac arrest and the interrogation had surely been informed by now from mass gossip between the diplomats. Eduard was a different man, clean shaven and wearing a new suit, that of a billionaire. His face was thinner but his dark hair was combed shapely to give the impression of a very healthy man. Maybe he was healthy, however those who had known him in his three months of depressing withdrawal from the World Assembly would logically think otherwise. This was the man that had gone through four emergency blood transfusions, a liver transplant and aggressive heroin withdrawal in the last two weeks.
Eduard sat at the bar and waved at Jimmy, asking for a beer politely with a smile. “Sorry for creating a little anarchy the other day in this fine establishment, I came to pay back some of the damages, being a rich son of a bitch I figured it was the least I could do.” Eduard pulled out a stack of money from his jacket and threw it onto the table beside the beer nuts bowl. Jimmy’s mouth dropped when he calculated that with Eduard’s “little” reimbursement he could retire from bartending and move into a castle. Heir didn’t seem to notice the overpayment and sat down to sip his drink, “I’m trying to quit ye know, got this princess coming from Stash Kroh for diplomatic reasons, supposedly she gets turned off with drinking and swearing and all that…”, Eduard pulling out a cigarette clearly dipped in some sort of stimulant, talking with only one half of his mouth available, “well, I say fuck that, and her deal goodbye then, I've got better things to worry about, like this new proposal for the W.A I've got going…”.

"I'll just put that in the safe," said Neville, deftly removing the money from Jimmy's grasp.

"That should go part of the way to paying for the damages," he noted. "So, what is it you're trying to quit? Drinking? Swearing? Smoking? Princesses? Whatever it is, I'd recommend going cold turkey."

He leered happily at Heir. "It's harder on you, of course, but it's much more entertaining for the rest of us."

Borrin and his companions, although they're still keeping a protective eye on the two children who wandered into this Bar a while ago, have now moved across into the corner of the room in which the widescreen television is situated: having made themselves comfortable in the chairs there, with a round of drinks and some munchies to hand, they've been watching the Worldvision Song Contest (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=572261)... Most of the songs so far have left them distinctly under-whelmed although (Surprise, surprise! ;)) they did applaud BA's own entry, a band called 'Fishbone Harp' whose song bore the title of 'Honey in the Jar' (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14266939&postcount=39). In fact, Borrin is now quietly singing that song's chorus as they await the next contestant's arrival on-stage _


“Mush-a-room, sausages, herbal cha,
Toast for my supper, oh;
Toast for my supper, oh _
There’s honey in the jar."

Hau Yu, the mission's 'Legal Attache' interrupts Borrin.
"Can't we watch the 'Baptism of Fire' (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=14287349) Soccer contest, instead, and see how our nation's team is doing in that?" he asks...

With due ceremony, Neville unhooked a small golden key from the chatelaine at his waist. Solemnly he unlocked the Lamented Regulars cabinet and carefully removed, polished and filled an elegant drinking vessel engraved "Sophista".

"If your tastes haven't changed, this one's on the house," he said. "If your tastes have changed, the replacement's on the house. So, what's new in Sophista?"

The Sophistan minister smiled a warm greeting to the man and accepted the drink. Settling into his barstool, he swirled the liquid about in the glass while he replied.

"Internal matters have pulled our attention away from global affairs a bit too long. We've shuffled some things around, made the right people happy. Now the President has demanded we stick our face out in the world again. Things have changed around here since my last visit. What's the place like these days?"

Eduard hanged up after talking to a board trustee of Heir Industries on his cell phone for about twenty minutes, turning his attention to the Sophistan minister “well the death rates are pretty nuts lately, it’s an epidemic really. Thirty thousand nations or so have just disappeared into the mist over the course of a year, and everyone thinks I’m crazy for suggesting we should be regulating our carbon emissions. Fuck, they’re practically carving big valleys into Lazarus to drop all the corpses into the pile.” Eduard shook his head, apparently drunk, he finished his lecture with a sarcastic comment “yeah, the environmental practices of member nations isn’t doing anything wrong…I hear that enough to make me think energy lobbyists fund the assembly in its entirety.” Heir shook his head, and threw some more cash onto the bar table, signaling Jimmy “give the Sophistan minister a second round of whatever he’s having, and get me a dry martini, in a deep champagne goblet with three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, and then add a large slice of lemon-peel. Okay!?” Jimmy nodded and prepared the drinks. Eduard pulled out a cigar and lit it, “I hate fucking princesses, they’re like giddy strippers that correct your grammar...”.

hi,
I'm a dictator

hi,
I'm a dictator

And do you have a name, or should we just call you Mr. Dick Tater?

Mr. Dick Tater

Sounds like a 50's television dad. Ye know, the ones with the briefcase and the silly suit and hat. I can imagine the theme song right now...

Mister Dick Tater, always loves his son, waves to his neighbour, and smokes camel cigarettes for fun...kids!

Perhaps motivated by the prospect of free liquor (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14307516&postcount=136), or perhaps by the desire to see Princess Ryabat again -- after she'd so mysteriously vanished following their date last month -- or maybe because he just wanted once again to strike fear in the hearts of the infidels who daily surrounded him, the Kennyite ambassador elected to make another cameo at the Strangers' Bar.

Scanning the holiday-time coterie that had gathered, to some disappointment he saw no sign of the Urgenchi cultural attache. He scoffed at the ridiculous Unibot representative before beholding the cool Commander Chiang seated with the Kennyite Jimmy; both of them looked about ready to seize him and confiscate any contraband he could have smuggled in with him.

But before they could act, Susa produced from behind his back a large red rubber kick ball and wound it behind his head before chanting loudly, "One, two, three, four ... I declare a Dodgeball War!" Swiftly the ambassador hurled his volley straight at Minister Hillaker's head....

Howling imprecations, Neville sprang to rattle down the screen that would protect the Bar's mirrored display.

"That's it!" he cried, hunting for something unbreakable to throw. "Idiots! Morons! Lunatics! Repealers! I've had it! Had it up to here! Cop this!"

It would have been a lot more impressive if "this" hadn't been a basket of complimentary miniature Christmas puddings. Nonetheless, quite a few Bar denizens were too slow to dodge the sting of the tiny missiles.

Calmly, Violet distributed soda-siphons to favoured patrons.

Brother Tim of Findhorn sighed. But he knew his duty. It's a dirty job, but weedy spectacle-wearing non-combatants in bar fights always have to do it.

With a flick of his robes (to expose the Clan Campbell boxers he was wearing), Brother Tim seated himself at the piano, slicked back his hair, lit a cigar and launched into a spirited rendering of every Scott Joplin rag he could lay a finger to.

"Really, dollink," purred visiting Ardchoillean Marlene Piaf, "ze Benny Hill musique vould be more, 'ow you say, atmospheric."

Her crony Edith Dietrich would have demurred, but the precipitous arrival in the middle of their table of a small bald-headed man in a morning suit disrupted her train of thought.

"Terribly sorry," the small man apologised, leaping up from the debris and head-butting a passing fellow-customer.

"Sooo unsophisticated, ze WA barflies," complained Edith.

"But tres cute," Marlene cooed, eyeing her quarry with a predator's smile.

(OOC: Yeah, Kenny, I know it's bad form, but if we're going to RP an entire bar fight on our own I figured, well, at least calling in some puppets would give it a bit of variety. -- Ard.)

A large raven, wearing a silver chain around its neck, flies into the room through an open window. It perches on one end of the Bar, and eyes the hurtling bodies speculatively before turning its head to address Neville _

"A glass of whiskey here, barkeeper, if you would. Put in on the tab for the 'Bears Armed' mission, I'm their Head of Messengers: the name is Korrack Err, of Clan Kerrucks." He casts another glance at the brawl, and then clicks his beak before continuing... "and do you have any pigfeet?"

hi,
I'm a dictator

I'm a Sagittarius. Does that mean we can be friends?

The red-headed Ambassador from Karianis lifts her gaze from the reports she'd been silently reading in a corner for forever, looking rather disgruntled. The effect is totally ruined by the pudding dripping from her hair. "Repealers? Must you be vulgar?" She snags one of her uneaten rolls, and hurls it at Neville, then scrambles under her table to avoid the rest of the strange barfight going on.

Calmly Jimmy (the Kennyite one) and Commander Chiang beheld the unfolding fracas before them, with barely a wrinkle in their facial expressions. The brawl was especially tame by Kennyite standards. So they continued killing their insides -- Jimmy with tobacco, the commander with liquor -- as they curiously observed the amateurs at work.

"I have to admit, I'm a mite disappointed in the ambassador," Chiang said as she sipped her Jameson. "Fifteen minutes already, and he hasn't once flashed his suicide vest."

"It's at the cleaners," Jimmy dryly informed her.

"Ah," replied the commander.

Even without the vest, Susa was nonetheless proving his militaristic mettle, and the odd state of suspended animation Minister Hillaker and the flying dodgeball found themselves in did not prevent the good ambassador himself from being pelted in the face by complimentary puddings. Angrily the latter gentleman wiped the nuts and crumbs and bits of fruit from his eyes. "Oh, you're dead, Neville!" Susa railed as he seized the nearest ashtray and flung its contents at the Barlord, and the ashtray itself right after for good measure.

Then a crow circled the melee and perched itself well out of harm's way at the far end of the bar.

Jimmy strangely regarded the bird's unusually low perch: "Hath the Raven neglected the bust of Pallas right above the chamber door?"

Quoth the commander, "Nevermore."

A small projectile whizzed past and cracked Cdr. Chiang's tumbler, so that its liquid contents leaked all over the table. "I fear the time has come to intervene," she said lowly as she steadily rose from her seat.

"I hear you," consented the deputy, as both produced their standard-issue Super Soakers and issued retaliatory fire upon the Findhornian delegation.

A large raven, wearing a silver chain around its neck, flies into the room through an open window. ... "and do you have any pigfeet?"

"But of course!" said Neville, envying that silver chain full on. (Shiny! Ancient? Symbolic? Plot device?) "I'll just call Dazza, our famed Australian fusion cuisine chef, shall I?" he said. "He'll be happy to discuss today's menu."

The red-headed Ambassador from Karianis ... "Repealers? Must you be vulgar?" She snags one of her uneaten rolls, and hurls it at Neville, then scrambles under her table ...

"Oooh, I love it when I talk dirty," the BarLord responded, his well-trained hearing having picked up the comment despite the distance. A redhead, eh? A natural redhead?

With a particularly evil snicker, Neville turned on the underfloor heating vents. He was pretty sure there was one right near the Ambassador's retreat. He kept his eye on her as the warm air blasted out in gale-force gusts. With any luck, there might well be some ... revelations.

<snip> "Oh, you're dead, Neville!" Susa railed as he seized the nearest ashtray and flung its contents at the Barlord, and the ashtray itself right after for good measure.

Neville ducked adroitly. "So what if a guy threw his ashtray at me?" he asked Violet, who had tried to deflect the missile. "It wasn't even a size 10!"

But he was annoyed, nonetheless. Time spent dodging ashtrays was time spent not checking out what was happening to the ambassador from Karianis. He snatched Violet's elastic hairband and, seizing a bowl of macadamia nuts he'd been meaning to shell, improvised a stingingly efficient slingshot to launch a volley at the raving Susa.

A small projectile whizzed past and cracked Cdr. Chiang's tumbler, so that its liquid contents leaked all over the table. "I fear the time has come to intervene," she said lowly as she steadily rose from her seat.

"I hear you," consented the deputy, as both produced their standard-issue Super Soakers and issued retaliatory fire upon the Findhornian delegation.

"But you can't do that!" protested Brother Tim, his glasses fogging up. "Everyone knows that you don't shoot the piano-player! It's supposed to be that a stray shot hits my whiskey glass, and then I keep on playing calmly and drink straight from the bottle."

"Now, now, dollink," Marlene soothed. "Let me use my lace-trimmed handkerchief, vhich I keep hidden just here, under zis red satin garter zat holds up my black fishnet stockings, to clean your glasses ... oh, my, zey keep misting up, I vonder vhy ... but you look so 'andsome wizzout zem ..."

Edith was made of sterner stuff. As a veteran of many a wet T-shirt competition, she laughed in the face of Super-Soakers. And, as a veteran of many a disputed union vote*, she laughed in the face of anyone who thought she could ever be outnumbered.

"Just remember, until it's written up in the minutes, it didn't happen," she threatened, grabbing an unopened bottle of champagne. "And I'm the Minutes Secretary! Wooo-hooo!"

It was the work of a minute to shake up the fizzy beverage, to set her thumb in position under the cork, to aim at the Kennyites -- "Dollink, you'll take out an eye!" cried Marlene, momentarily distracted from her exploration of Brother Tim's right ear.

"Well, they're a funny colour," she muttered rebelliously, but nonetheless aimed lower at the hardbitten Kennyites. "Now gimme a hand, Lene, you know what to do with a bottle of vodka!"

"But ze Bar's already been burnt down once," her companion protested.

"Shaddup, shove yer knickers in the top of it and set 'em on fire," Edith ordered, tossing her an antique Zippo lighter. "And don't bowl underarm, we can't afford another international incident. Bloody Ardchoillean Cricket Board."

*Dietrich and Piaf, last encountered here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7305551&postcount=1165), are respected officials of the Smoky-Voiced Torch Singers' Association.

A large raven, wearing a silver chain around its neck, flies into the room through an open window. ... "and do you have any pigfeet?"
"But of course!" said Neville, envying that silver chain full on. (Shiny! Ancient? Symbolic? Plot device?) "I'll just call Dazza, our famed Australian fusion cuisine chef, shall I?" he said. "He'll be happy to discuss today's menu."

The old Kawaiian nekomusume looked slightly startled at the appearance of the large black funerary bird, then smiled somewhat impishly as she heard it speak. Walking over to the raven, she bowed politely, and said, "I'm afraid I may be getting on in years, karasu-sama, but I'm not quite ready for our dinner date just yet." To Neville, she added, "Perhaps you could get your chef to order some for me as well...been a while since I've had any decent pork."

"Oooh, I love it when I talk dirty," the BarLord responded, his well-trained hearing having picked up the comment despite the distance. A redhead, eh? A natural redhead?

With a particularly evil snicker, Neville turned on the underfloor heating vents. He was pretty sure there was one right near the Ambassador's retreat. He kept his eye on her as the warm air blasted out in gale-force gusts. With any luck, there might well be some ... revelations.
There's an undignified squawk, as Serifina's too startled to even shriek properly, when she's suddenly hit with heated air, strong enough to knock her out of her cover and send her sprawling, her clothes in total disarray. Sadly for the BarLord, his unspoken question would go unanswered at the moment, as it seems the Karian ambassador is properly dressed.

She's stunned for a few seconds, then picks herself up, straightening her clothes, and marches over to the bar, snatchin a drink off a random table as she does so, only stopping once she's close enough to hurl the drink, glass and all, at the BarLord. From her expression, however, she didn't mean to throw the glass, just the drink. "Oops."

Richard, addressing the crow, said "It's good to see a raven around, you're good luck where I'm from."

Richard, addressing the crow, said "It's good to see a raven around, you're good luck where I'm from."

Eh, we just shoot the little bastards where I come from.

In horror, barely able to move, Jimmy watched as Marlene and Edith's Molotov cocktail came hurling at his face. All he saw afterward was a black blur and felt a sudden pain in his back as a muffled explosion sounded.

Moments later, Commander Chiang released him, and he noticed they were both against the wall. "You all right, Ambassador?" the commander asked as she brushed off his front.

"Y-y-yeah," Jimmy weakly assented, as he reoriented himself after the sudden shock. He turned to his right and saw that the formerly dark fireplace was now roaring with warming flame. Chiang's attempt to shield him from the blast had been entirely unnecessary, as the Findhornians' weapon had merely flown right past them and lit up the hearth.

"Oh, God, no! Susa!" Chiang exclaimed, and before she could make another heroic move, the deranged Kennyite ambassador had produced a detonator from beneath one of the tables. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he heralded. "Merry Christmas, Infidels!" He added the standard "ALLAHU AKBAR!" before hitting the trigger.

But instead of a nail-studded explosion, there was the slightest sound of electric crackling as the perfectly trimmed Christmas tree (or Solstice bush, if you will) next the fireplace suddenly lit up in yuletide glory.

Chiang could only chuckle. "That's right!" she said with revelation. "I rigged his detonator as a holiday prank! I forgot all about that!" She and Jimmy turned to the window, and noticed it was snowing. Jimmy could swear he heard the faintest swelling of sleighbells outside.

It would soon be drowned out, as a small band of door-to-door carolers who had been canvassing the floor that night just happened to stop at the entrance to the Strangers' Bar to serenade the revelers inside with a harmonized chorus of "Joy to the World."

Rather uncharacteristically, Chiang placed her arm around the deputy ambassador. "Merry Christmas, Jimmy," she said genuinely, using the rare occasion to call someone by their first name. She turned to the delegation by the piano, as the person seated behind it changed his repertoire to match the carolers'. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" she called out to them.

"Why, Commander! You're ... you're smiling!"

The commander's grip on his shoulder tightened dramatically. "Right. And if you tell anyone, you'll be spending New Year's in the Vastivan Memorial Pond!" she whispered hoarsely into his ear.

"Sorry, sorry."

The smile slowly returned as the two stood there, taking in the carolers' song.

Of course, these were Kennyite carolers, and they were actually singing the "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog" version off "Joy to the World," but it did little to dampen Cdr. Chiang's holiday spirit.

OOC: AWWWWW, Kenny. :fluffle: AWWWWW!
*recovers* Trust you to pull the Hallmark card!

IC: ... only stopping once she's close enough to hurl the drink, glass and all, at the BarLord. ... "Oops."

Seizing the glass adroitly, Neville whipped it into the dishwasher, selected a clean vessel and created an ostentatious cocktail in no seconds flat.

"Don't apologise, Ginger, it was worth it to lure you over here," he purred, doing the Groucho Marx thing with his eyebrows.

Violet interrupted her clean-up of a nearby table to observe the exchange disapprovingly. "Woman to woman, I should let you know: he's taken a Vow of Unchastity," she advised the newcomer. "Not that anyone's likely to fall for his cheesy routines, but still ..."

Her denunciation faltered as the seasonal music swelled to a crescendo. Customers crowded the windows. Notes and coins (not all of them thrown with malicious intent) rained upon the singers.

In horror, barely able to move, Jimmy watched as Marlene and Edith's Molotov cocktail came hurling at his face. <snip> He turned to his right and saw that the formerly dark fireplace was now roaring with warming flame. Chiang's attempt to shield him from the blast had been entirely unnecessary, as the Findhornians' weapon had merely flown right past them and lit up the hearth.

"I vas aimink for it," Marlene protested unconvincingly.

"Of course you were," agreed Edith. The thought of being banned from yet another bar, and having to walk all the way round the corner to the next one in the snow, wearing high heels, lent an impassioned sincerity to her voice. "I mean, we're Ardchoilleans! Everybody knows we're pacifists! We wouldn't dream ..."

"The hell you say!" Brother Tim began hotly. But any Findhornian revelations about their Lost Colony's foreign policy were overwhelmed by the gushing goodwill that swept the Bar. Tim, recognising a categorical imperative when he saw one, swept (as chronicled earlier) into the Heav'n and Nature sing stuff; the torch-singing duo began an Eartha Kitt memorial rendition of Santa Baby; and seasonal exchanges rang throughout the bar's refurbished premises, even from those of differing persuasion who would not normally have been seen dead, or even zombie, wishing deity-generated goodwill upon obdurate heads.

"Goddess bless us every one!'' said Brother Tim, the last of all.

Seizing the glass adroitly, Neville whipped it into the dishwasher, selected a clean vessel and created an ostentatious cocktail in no seconds flat.

"Don't apologise, Ginger, it was worth it to lure you over here," he purred, doing the Groucho Marx thing with his eyebrows.

Violet interrupted her clean-up of a nearby table to observe the exchange disapprovingly. "Woman to woman, I should let you know: he's taken a Vow of Unchastity," she advised the newcomer. "Not that anyone's likely to fall for his cheesy routines, but still ..."

Her denunciation faltered as the seasonal music swelled to a crescendo. Customers crowded the windows. Notes and coins (not all of them thrown with malicious intent) rained upon the singers.

"Ginger?" The ambassador's confusion at the appellation is obvious, apparently unfamiliar with the probable source of the name. She looks over at Violet as she's addressed, then smiles a little. "Oh, you needn't worry. But I appreciate the warning. If Eyebrows here actually tries anything, I'm sure my dear, sweet cousin Angela will have a properly sized hammer to loan me."

She gives Neville a sweet smile. "Now, of course, I need a drink. Or several. If nothing else, to help me ignore the racket over there." She gestures in the direction of the Kennyites, having otherwise ignored them 'till now.

Jimmy strangely regarded the bird's unusually low perch: "Hath the Raven neglected the bust of Pallas right above the chamber door?"

Quoth the commander, "Nevermore."

"If I had a penny for every time that people have used 'the N-word; around me," Korrack Err mused very quietly to himself, "then I'd probably be able to buy the... h'mm. Well, anyway, at least one of that couple did know enough of the poem to quote more than just that single word... Surprisingly cultured of them, from what I've heard said around here about their nation's people..."

"But of course!" said Neville, envying that silver chain full on. (Shiny! Ancient? Symbolic? Plot device?) "I'll just call Dazza, our famed Australian fusion cuisine chef, shall I?" he said. "He'll be happy to discuss today's menu."

"Men-u?" Korrack replied. "Good, send him out."

(OOC: He had actually been talking about pickled pigsfeet, such as some Bars -- at least in Bears Armed, and [at least during the earlier parts of 20th century] the RL USA -- have been known to keep amongst the bar snacks... but. on second thought, he's probably hungry enough to do justice to a larger meal anyway...
Oh, and the silver chain is actually a badge of office.)

The old Kawaiian nekomusume looked slightly startled at the appearance of the large black funerary bird, then smiled somewhat impishly as she heard it speak. Walking over to the raven, she bowed politely, and said, "I'm afraid I may be getting on in years, karasu-sama, but I'm not quite ready for our dinner date just yet." To Neville, she added, "Perhaps you could get your chef to order some for me as well...been a while since I've had any decent pork."

"Ah yes,", you're from a culture with sensible funerary customs aren't you?" commented Korrack. "Will you permit me to pay for your own meal, here, as recompense-in-advance for the meal that you will eventually provide to my kind?"

Richard, addressing the crow, said "It's good to see a raven around, you're good luck where I'm from."

"We're capable of being good luck everywhere, although some people aren't smart enough to realise that."
Eh, we just shoot the little bastards where I come from.
"And there's an example..."

Eric Lattener burst into the bar, sweaty and annoyed and demanding a Kirkanee, which he promptly shotgunned without any fuss.

Carefully setting the bottle back onto the bar, he exahaled, "God! You'll never guess what happened. This James Bluntus guy, he wandered out of the WA building (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=577822) and started randomly trying to recruit people outside! Making an absolute fool of himself. Luckily I happened to walk past on my way to the strip club. I had to drag him all the way back here. Jeez."

"'Sorright, we'll put him to bed (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=14341336&postcount=13) upstairs, he won't be the first," Neville said accommodatingly.

Turning back to the bar, he caught part of Dazza's enthusiastic description as he tempted Korrack and the old Kawaiian nekomusume: "... pickled pigsfeet? I assure you, such minor diversions cannot compare with my Pigs' Trotters a la Toowong! It's the mangoes, you see ..."

"Why don't you join them?" Neville suggested to Richard. "Birds of a feather, and all that." Hospitable duties safely out of the way, he steered his attention back to the Titian-haired Karianisian. By the UBarLord, the way the Bar's subtle lights drew out those fiery tints ... he swallowed, dry-mouthed.

"So, er, an axe -- no, a hammer," he said, groping for some sort of continuity. "Your people would be Seax Wiccans, then? Or dwarves? No, not dwarves, of course not, I ... er ... I see you're a ... sacred kingdom," he said. Desperately he scrolled down the Bar's computer screen. "And .. um ... a moralistic democracy ... no social welfare ... fiercely conservative ... I guess you'll be really cutting loose on New Year's Eve, then? Staying up after midnight, even?"

Sensing that somehow this approach was not achieving the meeting of minds he sought, he tried another tack. "You should see the lights on the lake when the fireworks go off, I'd be happy to show you."

Hospitable duties safely out of the way, he steered his attention back to the Titian-haired Karianisian. By the UBarLord, the way the Bar's subtle lights drew out those fiery tints ... he swallowed, dry-mouthed.

"So, er, an axe -- no, a hammer," he said, groping for some sort of continuity. "Your people would be Seax Wiccans, then? Or dwarves? No, not dwarves, of course not, I ... er ... I see you're a ... sacred kingdom," he said. Desperately he scrolled down the Bar's computer screen. "And .. um ... a moralistic democracy ... no social welfare ... fiercely conservative ... I guess you'll be really cutting loose on New Year's Eve, then? Staying up after midnight, even?"

Sensing that somehow this approach was not achieving the meeting of minds he sought, he tried another tack. "You should see the lights on the lake when the fireworks go off, I'd be happy to show you."

Serifina looks over at Violet again. "Is he always this eloquent?" she asks, dryly, then turns a grin on Neville. "A moralistic democracy? What? Now how in the world... Oh, dear, did the queen slip again? Tsk... She'd better fix that, and soon."

She laughs softly. "Not only will I be up after midnight, but I fully intend to eat, drink, be merry, and be an absolute embarrassment to the crown. One of my few joys in this near-exile from my home, you see. Trust me, our entry in the world book doesn't even begin to cover how narrowminded folks are back home."

She raises an eyebrow at the offer, eyeing the host speculatively. "Well now, that's a nice offer. I do believe I'll accept. It's quite possibly the nicest offer I've had all year."

(OOC: Karian, please! Not Karianisian. That's just ludicrously hard to pronounce. :) )

Ambassador Prince Rhodri strode into the bar, various members of the Gobbannaen embassy trailing along in his wake, and took in the festive scene before him. A fire burning brightly in the grate, a cheery Solstice Tree twinkling in the corner, the sound of piano and carollers duelling for supremacy, and the usual carnage and devastation throughout the room.

"It's good to be home," he boomed. He drew breath for either a long explanation of what that actually meant or a beer order, but fate mercifully intervened. A dodgeball, presumably annoyed at having been ignored for days, hit him on the side of the head hard enough to stun.

Undersecretary Cerys leant over as her boss collapsed gently to the floor. "Three seconds," she said disgustedly. "You couldn't keep out of trouble for more than three seconds? I had money on five minutes!"

Ambassador Heir hid the other dodgeball in his oversized coat pocket. "I'll save that one for later... "

Eduard walked over and gestured an open hand to the ambassador who was still lying on the ground. "Need a hand...?"

"Why thank you, sir," Prince Rhodri said, taking the extended hand and pulling himself upright. The rest of the Gobbannaen delegation would be no help, he knew; they had already made it to the bar and were keeping Jimmy busy pulling pints.

"We haven't met before, have we? Please allow us to introduce ourself: we are Rhodri ap Dafydd ap Rhys ap Idris ap Ieuan, Prince of Segontium and consequently the representative of the Principalities of Gobbannium to the World Assembly. If you would not consider it presumptuous, may we buy you a drink?"

Rhodri looked down the bar to see Serafina being flattered within an inch of her patience. Perhaps this would be a timely rescue.

"Neville! Premier purveyor of princely potables! May we perchance avail ourselves of your services?"

Eduard nodded to the ambassador. "Royalty, eh? Well, at least you're not a princess, don't get me started on princesses, one accidentally magnetized me by pointing her hair dryer at my head, and another tried to end my smoking addiction by loading my food with nicotine, which inadvertently put me in the hospital for three weeks while I "enjoyed" two blood transfusions. But I'm sure you know all about princesses..."

Eduard sat down at his "place" at the bar, beside the pinball machine entitled "Lollipop Loonies Lagical Lystery Lour & Galore" and a small refrigerator, out of his which he ran his new "enterprise", selling his own bodily fluids in used jars to patrons of the pub, and residents of the local retirement homes.

Eduard gave Jimmy a wave, "do you need me to repeat my order?", Jimmy shook his head "I don't have the time, I'm only on shift for another three hours. I think if I just throw everything I have in the bar into a used flower pot, and put some fruit on the lid you won't notice the difference anyway...oh, did I say that out loud!? Ooops!"

Turning back to the bar, he caught part of Dazza's enthusiastic description as he tempted Korrack and the old Kawaiian nekomusume: "... pickled pigsfeet? I assure you, such minor diversions cannot compare with my Pigs' Trotters a la Toowong! It's the mangoes, you see ..."

"Sounds very tempting. They're jihi, I presume? No milk or eggs in the recipe? Though I can't imagine why anyone would mix that stuff with good pork..."

"Ah yes,", you're from a culture with sensible funerary customs aren't you?" commented Korrack. "Will you permit me to pay for your own meal, here, as recompense-in-advance for the meal that you will eventually provide to my kind?"

The old nekomusume could do nothing less that throw back her head and laugh heartily at the the raven's offer. Wiping her eyes, she finally said, "Forgive me, karasu-sama...it's just that that's an offer I never expected to receive on this side of the mortal veil. I'd be honored." Grinning, she added, "it'll give me something to rib my granddaughter over."

Many patrons of the bar had been eyeing the new year's celebration on the television (the diplomatic channel, for international awareness, no doubt...24 hour coverage of the WA parliament), many raising their glasses or other ceremonial customs they may have in celebration.

Eduard, swinging his goblet of ..something, stood up on his table, calling out to the rest of the patrons, screaming for their attention (as always). "Hey, listen up, I don't know if you celebrate new years, or if your country uses a different calender or clock, but in Unibot we're counting down right now, 9..8..7..6...5...4...3...2...1, and I just like to give you guys a warm Unibotian shout out for a Happy New Year, may you find success, love and peace...or whatever you're searching for. Thanks".

Goostren marches into the bar, waving the ceremonial staff of his office and ducking to clear his palm-frond hat through the doorway. He is followed by a handful of celebrating attaches.

"Wait...what do you mean New Year's was yesterday?!"

"Why thank you, sir," Prince Rhodri said, taking the extended hand and pulling himself upright. The rest of the Gobbannaen delegation would be no help, he knew; they had already made it to the bar and were keeping Jimmy busy pulling pints.

"We haven't met before, have we? Please allow us to introduce ourself: we are Rhodri ap Dafydd ap Rhys ap Idris ap Ieuan, Prince of Segontium and consequently the representative of the Principalities of Gobbannium to the World Assembly. If you would not consider it presumptuous, may we buy you a drink?"

Rhodri looked down the bar to see Serafina being flattered within an inch of her patience. Perhaps this would be a timely rescue.

"Neville! Premier purveyor of princely potables! May we perchance avail ourselves of your services?"




Entering the bar, the elderly Mongkha, khan of Kashgar and his assistant Tarmashirin of Herat notice the returned Ambassador of Gobbannium. The Urgenchis take a seat at the bar and Tarmashirin orders his master's Bengen tea.

" So Prince Rhodri of Segontium returns master. You must be pleased " Tarmashirin whispers

" Indeed I am Tarmashirin, the revered Ms. Coch is excellent at her job no doubt, but it will be comforting to have the influence of another crowned head around here. Mongkha says nodding his thanks to Neville and taking a sip of his mildly hallucinogenic tea.

" Does the ministry wish us to secure the good will of Gobbannium honoured Khan ? "

" Indeed Tarmashirin, those were the very words of Minister Nogai "

Mongkha catches Neville's attention.

" Please, Neville, will you send a case of the best vintage of your best pink champagne to the Gobbannaen please and since I cannot speak loud enough to be heard above the din will you indicate to all and any who may frequent the bar in the next day that their drinks are on his Divine Majesty the Emperor of Urgench for the next 24 hours. They should make free and be merry since his Divine Majesty wishes to help them celebrate their New Year "


Mongkha smiles thinking of the dent this little piece of munificence will make in the truly gigantic "entertainment" budget which his minister, Nogai the Khan of Tabagatai has instructed him to spread about liberally...

Goostren marches into the bar, waving the ceremonial staff of his office and ducking to clear his palm-frond hat through the doorway. He is followed by a handful of celebrating attaches.

"Wait...what do you mean New Year's was yesterday?!"

The Kawaiian nekomusume glanced over at the stacks of Kawaiian calendars she had for sale at her booth near the Shrine, and said, "Not that I know of, sir. Today's the start of the Moon of the Earth Dragon. The Kawaiian New Year was five months ago."

Eduard gasped for air, finding himself on the floor with half of his body lying in his mini-refrigerator. Broken Jars of bodily fluids and unconscious girls that he didn't remember at all laid over top of him. Getting up, he realized he no longer possessed any pants, and found hiding beside the pinball machine a suitable course of action. Slightly embarrassed and VERY hungover, the Unibot diplomat called his assistant on his cellphone, whispering "yeah, come quickly, I need some clothes, stat. You KNOW WHERE I AM...not the WAHQ! Where am I 90% of the time!? ....Fantastic! Now, get down here, RIGHT NOW!"

Eduard smiled and waved at the awaking patrons of the bar. "Don't mind me..."

Goostren purposefully edges around so that he does not have to look at the pantless Eduard. He calmly assesses the nekomusume, then speaks:

"I hope you do not mind me saying, but you are the cutest thing I have seen in a long, long time."

Eduard scoffed "sure, if I wasn't half-naked and hungover I'd be flirting with the overgrown catlady too..hmmmm"

The Kawaiian nekomusume glanced over at the stacks of Kawaiian calendars she had for sale at her booth near the Shrine, and said, "Not that I know of, sir. Today's the start of the Moon of the Earth Dragon. The Kawaiian New Year was five months ago."
"And the main calendar that's used in Bears Armed places it at the Spring Equinox, although my own people have traditionally used the Autumn Equinox for that purpose instead" adds Korrack.

Goostren marches into the bar, waving the ceremonial staff of his office and ducking to clear his palm-frond hat through the doorway. He is followed by a handful of celebrating attaches.

"Wait...what do you mean New Year's was yesterday?!"Commander Chiang cast the newcomer a look of supreme annoyance. "What appalling ignorance!" she interjected. "I think Nigel Powers said it best: 'There are only two things I cannot stand in this world: people who are intolerant of other peoples' cultures ... and the Dutch.'"

Jimmy (the Kennyite one) did not look up as he leafed through his morning edition of the Paradise City Town Crier. On the cover was a picture of pompous-looking Cobdenian diplomats waving miniature flags in celebration of their nation's win (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=1015) of the Antarctic Oasis regional delegacy. He took a puff off his cigarette. "Well, if you're expecting a revolution of cultural awareness, the World Assembly's probably the last place you'd look," he said. "It's a veritable breeding ground for unimaginably insensitive brutes! Why, just last week you defenestrated Mongkha's assistant because you thought the Oriental tea he was drinking was too 'namby-pamby'...remember that?"

Chiang appeared not to have heard him, still hung on the Treefolk gentleman's gaffe. "We should invade his country, kill its leaders and convert them to Christianity!" she railed.

"You can fantasize about your vacation plans later," Jimmy told her. "Right now, we have to figure another angle on discrediting the Urgenchis before the abortion vote. Funny how defenestrating them only evokes pity for them," he noted sardonically.

"Oh, shut up!" spat Chiang.

"HOORAY! HURRAH! HUZZA! YAY!"
A loud chorus of cheers comes from the members of the Bears Armed Mission who are over in the corner of the Bar that houses the widescreen television.

"What's all of that noise for?", an anonymous ambassador enquires rather grumpily.

"Our national team just qualified to participate in the World Cup!", exclaims Borrin joyously. "Neville! I'll buy for a drink for anybody who's in the Bar now who'll drink to their success!"

"Our national team just qualified to participate in the World Cup!", exclaims Borrin joyously. "Neville! I'll buy for a drink for anybody who's in the Bar now who'll drink to their success!"

"Neville, I have to take Ambassador o'Redwood up on his offer." said Richard, "Congrats to the Bears Armed team!"

Commander Chiang cast the newcomer a look of supreme annoyance. "What appalling ignorance!" she interjected. "I think Nigel Powers said it best: 'There are only two things I cannot stand in this world: people who are intolerant of other peoples' cultures ... and the Dutch.'"

Jimmy (the Kennyite one) did not look up as he leafed through his morning edition of the Paradise City Town Crier. On the cover was a picture of pompous-looking Cobdenian diplomats waving miniature flags in celebration of their nation's win (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=1015) of the Antarctic Oasis regional delegacy. He took a puff off his cigarette. "Well, if you're expecting a revolution of cultural awareness, the World Assembly's probably the last place you'd look," he said. "It's a veritable breeding ground for unimaginably insensitive brutes! Why, just last week you defenestrated Mongkha's assistant because you thought the Oriental tea he was drinking was too 'namby-pamby'...remember that?"

Chiang appeared not to have heard him, still hung on the Treefolk gentleman's gaffe. "We should invade his country, kill its leaders and convert them to Christianity!" she railed.

"You can fantasize about your vacation plans later," Jimmy told her. "Right now, we have to figure another angle on discrediting the Urgenchis before the abortion vote. Funny how defenestrating them only evokes pity for them," he noted sardonically.

"Oh, shut up!" spat Chiang.




Mongkha and his assistant, Tarmashirin of Herat, sit in the quietest corner of the bar, a dark haired woman of exceeding beauty sits with them.


" How is Dilmun these days Madame Saad? " Mongkha asks the woman.


"Hot, honoured Khan, hot and dull. Shipments of frankincense and pearls are the only contribution the place has ever made to the empire. The Divan believes me safe there from prying eyes. Maybe I am, but frankly I'd rather be hunted across Siberia by Aundotutunagirian bounty hunters than spend another summer in Arabia." Madame Saad's deep brown eyes flicker with angry frustration. She lights a black cigarette and crosses her legs.

" Well we must both thank the Khan of Meshed for sending you here then ", says Mongkha smiling weakly at Madame Saad. It is rare to see the elderly Khan genuinely intimidated by anyone, but this woman is infamous. Her work in causing the overthrow of the last Maharani of Mysore is legendary, and Madame Saad's name strikes fear into even the blackest of hearts.


" Will you need me for long do you think Mongkha? " Madame Saad asks,

" Only so long as the Kennyites connive at our frustration, Madame Saad, which could mean a posting of some length I'm afraid. " Mongkha sips some Bengen tea, hoping its powerful hallucinogens will dull his nerves

"And that's them over there is it Mongkha ? " Madame Saad says, looking at the Kennyites on the other side of the bar, " Kennyite or not everyone has a weakness and I am expert at exploiting weakness. The Kennyites will make a fine addition to my resume, a trophy for my cabinet so to speak" Madame Saad laughs quietly and draws on her cigarette. She ponders the pleasures she will experience in the process of thwarting the Kennyites....

Dr Lois Merrywether walked into the bar for the first time.

OUCH!

Rubbing her head, she then walked into the Strangers' Bar, and took a seat at the bar alongside Samantha Benson.

"Welcome back, Ms Benson."

"Please, call me Sam."

"Ok. Ah - I'll have a whisky soda to drink, whatever's open. Thank you."

"So, how are you settling in?"

"Pretty well, I think. It's a lot quieter than I'd expected. Bad time of year?"

"No, not really: it's going to be like this from hereonin, I think."

"Hmm, perhaps. How did the Olympics go?"

"It was a lot of fun, to be honest. There are worse ways to spend February."

"Speaking of, I have a conference call with George tomorrow. It was bad enough being married to him, but now working for him? Ugh."

"He can be a little difficult, yes."

"A little? Sam, have I ever told you the panda story..."

Eduard walked into the pub with a short perverted man, who had a long white beard and robe like that of moses. Heir bent down and checked his mini-refrigerator, pulling out a labeled jar of urine. Passing it over to the man, Eduard smiled "that'll be ten dollars in your currency, or a pint of cocaine, depending on whats cheaper for you to get in...um, where ever you're from...", the man pulled out a bag of white powder and handed it to Eduard. Heir looked at it with surprise, "where the fuck did you come from!? If this shit is cheaper than ten bucks..?", the man laughed "you asked for ten in our currency..."

Eduard put the bag of "currency" in his pocket, "sounds like a nice place..."

Jaris Krytellin sat at the bar, drinking a touch morosely. A letter from his boss sat on the bar next to him.

...for undiplomatic conduct harmful to the Federation's international relations during a recent discussion on abortion in the General Assembly, and for refusing a direct order from higher authorities, you are temporarily suspended from your duties as Federation ambassador to the World Assembly until such time as a hearing can be conducted concerning the matter...

"I'm getting too old for this crap," he muttered, taking a swig from his bottle of ale.

Arjel Khazaran, sitting next to him, gave a wry grin. "Well, you are a bit old," he laughed. "But it's nothing a drink or five won't fix," he added, taking a drink from his own bottle.

Jaris Krytellin sat at the bar, drinking a touch morosely. A letter from his boss sat on the bar next to him.

...for undiplomatic conduct harmful to the Federation's international relations during a recent discussion on abortion in the General Assembly, and for refusing a direct order from higher authorities, you are temporarily suspended from your duties as Federation ambassador to the World Assembly until such time as a hearing can be conducted concerning the matter...

"I'm getting too old for this crap," he muttered, taking a swig from his bottle of ale.

Arjel Khazaran, sitting next to him, gave a wry grin. "Well, you are a bit old," he laughed. "But it's nothing a drink or five won't fix," he added, taking a drink from his own bottle.

Senator Sulla walks in and orders his usually poison....Wild Turkey on the rocks. Sitting down at his usual table he removes a cigar from his coat pocket and lights the bad boy up. Fragrent blue smoke wafts up from the good but unwholsome senator as he takes a few puffs. He looks over and notices The glumness of the Altan Ambassador. Placing the cigar in an ashtray, the senator reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. Within Minutes his buxom secretary Velma enters the bar. She is carrying a mason jar filled with a clear liquid. As she passes one table, a patron made a drunken attemp to get a feel. Quickly she belts the idiot with a wicked right cross. Without missing a step she walks over to Jaris and says as she hands him the jar,
"A gift from my Boss."

As Jaris looks over at Sulla, the unwholesome one smiles and says,
"Cheer up ya old bugger! There are worse things than being suspended from the festering snakepit. Some of my snakebite remedy, there, ought to help you pass the time away."

Senator Sulla walks in and orders his usually poison....Wild Turkey on the rocks. Sitting down at his usual table he removes a cigar from his coat pocket and lights the bad boy up. Fragrent blue smoke wafts up from the good but unwholsome senator as he takes a few puffs. He looks over and notices The glumness of the Altan Ambassador. Placing the cigar in an ashtray, the senator reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone. Within Minutes his buxom secretary Velma enters the bar. She is carrying a mason jar filled with a clear liquid. As she passes one table, a patron made a drunken attemp to get a feel. Quickly she belts the idiot with a wicked right cross. Without missing a step she walks over to Jaris and says as she hand him the jar,
"A gift from my Boss."

As Jaris looks over at Sulla, the unwholesome one smiles and says,
"Cheer up ya old bugger! There are worse things than being suspended from the festering snakepit. Some of my snakebite remedy, there, ought to help you pass the time away."

Krytellin gave Velma a big smile, and took a swig from the mason jar. "This will definitely help....thanks, Senator. I'll have to return the favor sometime," Krytellin said with another grin. He drank deeply from the jar again. "You know, you're right," he said in Sulla's general direction. "I ought to be thanking my boss for giving me a vacation from the Gods-damned GA. Who does that pipsqueak Nelron think he is? Screw him! I used to be his boss..." Krytellin shouted, accompanied with another swig from the jar.

"Um, Jaris, you might want to not call the Secretary of State a pipsqueak..." Khazaran said.

"Pipe down and drink, yak herder!" Krytellin replied, shoving the jar at Khazaran.

"Well, you're still technically my boss, so I guess I have to," Khazaran grinned mischievously, taking a swig himself. "Hey, that's not bad stuff," he mused with a grin.

Adrian is a shy person, is not very much in the mood today, and to make matters worse, got the flu. Says to the bartender:

"Anything with Curaçao, please. The Bleu variety will gey you an extra tip."

Urra o HighPeaks, a junior member of the Bears Armed Mission's diplomatic staff, enters the room and walks across to the "Nations' News" notice-board where she pins up a leaflet advertising tourism in Bears Armed (http://forums3.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=14532449#post14532449).
She then wanders across to the Bar itself and, having just overheard Adrian's words, asks him _

"Have you ever tried the cocktail that's called a Corcovado? Blue Curacao, Drambuie, and Tequila, 'on the rocks' topped up with lemonade; Nice..."

Having heard a word... "Corcovado"... Adrian wakes up from apathy and dives in the depths of memory, warmly remembering a visit to Brazil in his younghood, while still a Royal Prince, not yet the King, still free from the all-seeing eyes of a malicious press... and thinks... "Ah, those were the days!"

Having still Urra o HighPeaks's eyes upon him, he wakes up from this now blissful stupor and says:

"Corcovado? Nothing could be more appropiate right now! But only if you'll join me..."

Neville was in his element, mixing cocktails with creative flair and trying to be annoyed at Senator Sulla, whose generosity had prevented the BarLord from ringing up a few more Altani Credits on that nation's tab.

But how could anyone be annoyed at Senator Sulla? To start off with, he was undeniably Good; but then, if you're the sort of person who gets annoyed by the undeniably Good, there was also the fact that he was Slightly Unwholesome, which rather countered the goodness. Neville shelved the philosophical problem for later consideration during his nightly devotional exercises.

Instead, gladly surrendering himself to the true craftsman's artistic pleasure, the BarLord made Corcovados for everyone within range, a move much resented by Violet, who was run off her feet delivering them, and by Jimmy, who had tried to slope off to the kitchen on the excuse of taking one to Dazza, that artist of Australian Fusion cuisine, but had been sternly recalled to his duties.

"Mark my words, This Will End in Tears," Violet opined prophetically.

Serifina looked at the drink she'd just received warily, then looked up. "Oh, dear. Is this something I want to even try to drink?"

Barelling into the bar, her blonde-hairead assistant zipped through the bar on a skateboard, somehow coming to a safe, although altogether too fast, stop next to her table, Angela snatched the drink from Serifina's hand and drank it down. "Hey, ya snooze, ya loose, cousin."

Eduard Heir woke up; he was sleeping on the pool table, naked again. He apologized to the ambassadors who had been attempting to play a game of eight ball, around his lifeless body. Eduard got his bathrobe from Jimmy, and sat down at the bar stool, scrapping at his ragged beard. He didn’t have a clue what day it is, the last time he had seen the sun from outside of the pub’s stained windows had been weeks ago. Eduard lit a cigarette with one of the candles and swore under his breath about someone named Walter Raleigh.

“Life is like a cigarette, it gets lit, it burns slowly, it’s addictive, and it’s fantasized in a lot of movies. But at some time it’s got to burn out….fuck myself, and that stupid fucking proposal….I’ve been practically thrown away and crushed into the pavement. Who do you think you are, world? To spit on me, EDUARD HEIR, I built my fortune, and my empire on my hands and knees. I’m a working class hero. Granted, I received a large inheritance from my rich war profiteering father, and my corporate is based on stolen products…but that’s why we call it a fucking monopoly. You know what’s crappy about life…it’s costly, just like a cigarette. All these bums line the streets asking my administration for money like we’re some socialist money conveyor belt, and we are…but just for our military, and me…not homeless people….BUT if they JOINED the military… now that’s an idea!”

Making their first visit to the Strangers Bar since their return from Tabriz, Mongkha, Khan of Kashgar and his assistant Tarmashirin of Herat settle themselves at the bar. Mongkha is in an excellent mood, the government of the Emperor of Urgench had recalled him to Tabriz to be feted and honoured for orchestrating the success of the CoCR and Mongkha had had the double pleasure of having achieved this by his own methods and not those of his minister who's dubious injunction to " grease the barbarian's palms" had never sat well with him.


"Tarmashirin, will you have the honourable Mr Neville poor us some champagne please ? "

Tarmashirin orders a bottle of frighteningly expensive vintage Krug which he knows is his master's favourite.

" Will the other members of the mission be joining us honoured Khan ? " Tarmashirin asks.

" Well Princess Ryabat remains in Tabriz, probably to continue her new romance with the Khan of Trebizond, and his excellency the Khan of Kazan is still missing in the Himalayas, doubtless carried away by a She-Yeti. I believe the honoured Khan of Kunduz, her royal highness the Princess of the Khitan and his royal Highness the Prince of Ferghana will be joining us presently. Madame Saad is probably somewhere in the vicinity, but one can never tell where and when she will decide to make an appearance, I suspect that's part of her job. But lets not let the tardiness of the others keep us from our celebrations shall we Tarmashirin ? "

"Indeed honoured Khan, may I have a glass of Champagne ? " Tarmashirin asks nervously

"Good god no! What next Tarmashirin? Your father would have whipped you till he passed out with exhaustion if he thought you were imbibing of alcohol, and I made a promise to honour that old goatherd's wishes in regard to your person. Which reminds me, I must set about finding you a wife. Now pour me a glass and let us discuss what news about our colleagues you overheard at that meeting you had with the other assistants to higher officials of the ministry. "

The pair settle in for a good gossip, Mongkha keeping one eye on the activities of the other diplomats in the bar.

Eduard had had enough booze for noon and ordered a cup of Lapsang Souchong tea, with a teaspoon of vanilla, sugar and some oriental spice...and just a hint of gunpowder to give it some more camp-fire like smokiness. Eating it with a biscuit, and taking some periodic drags on a cigarette.

He checked his PDA, apparently his wife was now his ex-wife, his country was at war with the bigtopians and the tabloids were having a field day with him throwing up on a diplomat in the WA, ending the situation by saying "I throw up not because I am drunk..but because you sicken me....".

He looked over at the young child across from him, Tarmashirin his name was, he thought.

He addressed the kid, "Don't get married. They pretend to like you...then two minutes later they're taking half of your stuff, and running away to Fatatatutti with your money and your pride."

Eduard had had enough booze for noon and ordered a cup of Lapsang Souchong tea, with a teaspoon of vanilla, sugar and some oriental spice...and just a hint of gunpowder to give it some more camp-fire like smokiness. Eating it with a biscuit, and taking some periodic drags on a cigarette.

He checked his PDA, apparently his wife was now his ex-wife, his country was at war with the bigtopians and the tabloids were having a field day with him throwing up on a diplomat in the WA, ending the situation by saying "I throw up not because I am drunk..but because you sicken me....".

He looked over at the young child across from him, Tarmashirin his name was, he thought.

He addressed the kid, "Don't get married. They pretend to like you...then two minutes later they're taking half of your stuff, and running away to Fatatatutti with your money and your pride."


Tarmashirin of Herat nearly jumps out of his skin, being addressed directly by the Ambassador of another nation is not a common experience for him, and despite thirty years of service to Mongkha he hasn't gotten used to it either.

" Erm... thank you.. erm.. your Excellency. Erm... I will bear that in mind " is Tarmashirin's stuttered, and of course whispered response.

Tarmashirin finds the whole topic deeply unsettling and wishes Mongkha had never brought it up.

Eduard had had enough booze for noon and ordered a cup of Lapsang Souchong tea ...

"Y'wanna watch it with that stuff," warned Jimmy, delivering the brew and the bikkies. "The last regular tea-drinker we had gave birth to twins."

Overhearing, Violet reflected, as she had many times before: there was a reason Jimmy was only a part-time barman.

"Y'wanna watch it with that stuff," warned Jimmy, delivering the brew and the bikkies. "The last regular tea-drinker we had gave birth to twins."

Eduard coughed with laughter,
"I take it she drinks only pure alcohol and rocket fuel now, made from her own distiller in her basement. Fate's a fickled bitch. Twins....dahm, I'd sell the little brats to the circus."

Heir remembered the days of prohibition in Unibot, and his slaves that had went blind from test tasting his alcohol samples. Good times....

Eduard coughed with laughter,
"I take it she drinks only pure alcohol and rocket fuel now, made from her own distiller in her basement. Fate's a fickled bitch. Twins....dahm, I'd sell the little brats to the circus."

Heir remembered the days of prohibition in Unibot, and his slaves that had went blind from test tasting his alcohol samples. Good times....

"Do you mean my Godchildren?" said Richard icily

"Do you mean my Godchildren?"

Eduard turned around, "eh... yeah. Nice chaps, should do well in eh...a good boarding school, eh?", sipping the rest of his tea nervously.

"The Righteous Harmony Fists would be at home in this place" whispered Ban Gu as the retainers of Li Hongzhang, the Foreign Minister, searched the World Assembly building for the intelligence services. They were rather conspicuous, Ban Gu thought, the large Mongol retainers taking careful notes about the building, but the Jin had always favored overt displays of power in conjunction.

"Ashan i amban!" one of the Mongol retainers approached Ban and gave a bow, clasping his hands. "The Teahouse has been located, and per your order we have stayed out."

Nodding, the Chinese-born diplomat made his way to the Stranger's Bar, mentally noting the fact the operative had used the Manchu title of Ban's office- Vice-President of the Foreign Ministry, one of several. Such Manchu affectations had been obsolete since the 30s, when the last of the ethnic requirements of the Empire had been swept away by the reforms of the Guangxu Emperor.

"So." he murmured, surveying the dark and bustling pub, "this is the Stranger's Bar."

Several unscrupulous-looking characters gave him long, slow gazes, making the bureaucrat feel slightly uncomfortable. He readjusted his hanfu overcoat and took a seat in a corner, checking his watch to make sure the Minister was still speaking before the GA, and slowly settled in to watch.

"In public behavior dictates propriety; appreciate your targets in this manner." he murmured to himself again.

"Do you mean my Godchildren?"

Eduard turned around, "eh... yeah. Nice chaps, should do well in eh...a good boarding school, eh?", sipping the rest of his tea nervously.

"My godchildren are far too young to be torn from their family in such a fashion," Avaya informed him, suddenly appearing on the opposite side to Richard.

She'd faced such an ethical dilemma over becoming a godmother to the munchkins, she certainly wasn't going to give up the post now she'd hacked her way through the philosophical wilderness. It had been fearsomely difficult, as a witch who didn't believe in the existence of any but man-made devils, to come to terms with the ceremony.

Indeed, at the christening her "I renounce the devil and all his works" had been muttered so fast and so low that, if there were a devil, he'd probably still have a claim on the twins. Still, she'd managed it, and she was proud of the way the pigeon pair was developing.

Which was just as well, as there wasn't much else in her life she was proud of. Her boss Dicey Reilly, whether for disciplinary reasons or because she'd just forgotten about it, had not rescued her from the public shame of her post as Minister for Foreign Affairs; she'd failed (failed! She, Avaya Thibaudet, failed!) her last term paper; and Sammy Faisano, Kennyite diplomat and (theoretically) her lodestar, her perfect knight, her one true love, hadn't called her for two nights now!

Bitterly she cast a glance at the Kennyite end of the bar, where happiness and good-fellowship (apparently) reigned. Bitterly she observed Eduard Heir, who (apparently) wanted to rip from her the one bright spot in her miserable life. Bitterly she noted that Neville was still mixing those foul concoctions, ignoring (apparently) her desperately needy unalcohol-ed state. There was only one thing for a girl of spirit to do.

"Death By Chocolate! Double! NOW!" she ordered. "With whipped cream AND icecream AND full-cream milk!"

OOC: I believe Eduard was quoting Richard York, not actually claiming godparentage. And I didn't know we had our own part of the bar! For purposes of quarantine, no doubt. http://209.85.48.12/6802/45/emo/emotions33%5B1%5D.gif

I'll have the Kennyites make an appearance soon. Don't worry; I'll try to keep them away from the other customers.

Neville was in his element, mixing cocktails with creative flair and trying to be annoyed at Senator Sulla, whose generosity had prevented the BarLord from ringing up a few more Altani Credits on that nation's tab.

But how could anyone be annoyed at Senator Sulla? To start off with, he was undeniably Good; but then, if you're the sort of person who gets annoyed by the undeniably Good, there was also the fact that he was Slightly Unwholesome, which rather countered the goodness. Neville shelved the philosophical problem for later consideration during his nightly devotional exercises.

One ability the good but slightly unwholesome senator had honed to a fine egde, was an uncanny way of sensing the annoyance of a great Bar-lord. It had taken many years of practice in various dives, joints, tap rooms, pubs, and gin mills to gain this almost superhuman sense. Now his "Barlord sense" was tingling, and he realized that he best remedy the situation in a hurry. After all, this was one of the few establishments that still allowed him admittance. Standing up he made his way over to the bar with a rather repentant look on his face. reaching hinto his coat pocket he removed his billfold, and placed a couple of large denomination greenbanks in front of the great Bar Lord. Solemnly he said,
"Sorry about that old boy. I diddn't mean to step on your toes. I'll see that it never happens again. As a token of my sincerity, please use this cash to send everyone another round, and keep the change as a tip."

Eduard coughed with laughter,
"I take it she drinks only pure alcohol and rocket fuel now, made from her own distiller in her basement. Fate's a fickled bitch. Twins....dahm, I'd sell the little brats to the circus."
Borrin o Redwood, who currently has one of those very same children curled up asleep next to him on a sofa, overhears this and casts a nasty look at Edward...

OOC; I wonder how much longer their player is going to leave them here in the Bar for?

not actually claiming godparentage

OOC: Dahm right.

____________________________________________________________

Edward straightened up in his seat, his tea had been sipped to the point where only the gunpower was left in the bottom of the cup. He looked over at the pair of orphans lying on the pool table, Heir sighed. He walked over to them, tapping one on their shoulder. "Hey kid, listen. There's a hotel down the street, here's some money. Take you're brother, this isn't exactly the place to have a sleepover." Eduard passed the kid several hundred dollars, and watched them leave the bar. The one orphan managed to say "thank-you" nervously. Eduard scrubbed his beard and watched them leave. They reminded him of his self, years ago, as an orphan. Heir stretched out his arms, and laid across the pool table. "Ah, all of the table to myself...haha".

OOC; I wonder how much longer their player is going to leave them here in the Bar for?

[OoC: Well I think their parents are still in the bar too, so it's not like they're orphaned. But NB's been inactive for awhile, I wish he'd come back.]

"Do you mean my Godchildren?"

Eduard turned around, "eh... yeah. Nice chaps, should do well in eh...a good boarding school, eh?", sipping the rest of his tea nervously.

"I can't imagine why newborns would be sent off to 'a good boarding school'."

OOC: I believe Eduard was quoting Richard York, not actually claiming godparentage.
OOC1: Avaya was invited to be a godparent too. It was a major ethical dilemma, but she did it. So Eduard has the offended Richard-godparent on one side of him and the offended Avaya-godparent on the other. Who, if she keeps on slurping that stuff, is probably going to throw up on him. Which will serve him right, the heartless beast!

And I didn't know we had our own part of the bar! For purposes of quarantine, no doubt. http://209.85.48.12/6802/45/emo/emotions33%5B1%5D.gif

OOC2: Pedant. Grammar-Nazi. Style-wrecker. :tongue: So make it, "... glance at the Kennyites, some of whom had clustered at one end of the bar."

Lady Renae sheepishly entered the bar, glancing around at the various patrons and inhabitants (for some of them certainly appeared to actually live here) with mixed confusion and apprehension. She had been warned against a multitude, a frenzied raptor, an engorged arachnid, and a 'strange chubby man in a tophat', but none of these elements seemed present, nor was the manybreed wolf whose acquaintance she had been instructed to make. Thankfully, the more familiar and alcoholic element of this building was exactly as she had been informed when she was awarded the honor of representative internship.

Having found her initial briefing documents to be utterly useless, she demolecularized both documents and satchel with her ManiFold Pen's "recycling" component and proceeded to let her hair down out of its traditional Librarian's bun, loosen her tie, and order a tall double shot of whiskey from the barkeep.

This being completed, and her double shot having gleefully been consumed, she recited the one scripted statement she was actually required to give: "On behalf of my predecessors from the Representative Colony of Intellect and Art and the great nation of The Lost Pseudo-Civilization of Intellect and the Arts, which has recently been found and regained its standing as a member of the now World Assembly, I would like to offer the following traditional gesture of friendship: everyone's next round is on me."

[OoC: Well I think their parents are still in the bar too, so it's not like they're orphaned. But NB's been inactive for awhile, I wish he'd come back.]I though that their parents were away from the Bar when the kids wandered in? No? Anyway, I sent NB a TG yesterday reminding him that they were here (and he's still been logging into his nation fairly often, so should see the note soon...).

I would like to offer the following traditional gesture of friendship: everyone's next round is on me."

The "m" of the lady's "me" blended with the "m" of Avaya's "make" as she leapt in with a speed sharpened by an intern's instincts: "Make that an Old 'n' Funky," she ordered. And then, as she noted with a sinking heart that the rest of the Ardchoillean delegation had just arrived, "No, make that four Old 'n' Funkies."

She looked desperately around for escape. She obviously couldn't run, equally obviously (given that term paper) couldn't risk any magic, but the thought of sustaining more than 10 seconds' conversation with her boss/mentor/tutor was more than she could bear.

Her eyes skittered over the Librarian. She didn't know this particular individual, but she remembered that even Dicey had always kid-gloved Librarians. In fact, even William Edward Kelly had always kid-gloved Librarians. There was something about their air of cool competence, their secret knowledge about the jam on the book in third grade ... if she were politely conversing with a Librarian, none of her superiors would be so crass as to interrupt ...

"I wonder if, in an equally traditional gesture of friendship, you would care to join me in enjoyment of one of the Bar's exquisite desserts?" she offered, smiling hopefully at the newcomer. Up close, the Librarian seemed almost approachable. She couldn't be any older than Avaya herself, maybe even a year or two younger. "I'm Avaya Thibaudet, by the way," she added. "Intern to the Ardchoillean delegation, and ..." better get it over with, girl ... "wrongfully condemned to the political position of Foreign Minister."

Carefully she extended her perceptions just the smallest smidgen. If this person had some hang-up about talking to politicians (even innocent ones who didn't deserve the shame), it was best she found out now. Before Dicey got any closer.

Lady Renae gave Avaya a quick once-over, then smiled and offered her hand for shaking. "Greetings and salutations. I'm Elected Leader of The Illustrious Renae and Ambassador of Representative Internship for the interests of the Lost Pseudo-Civilization of Intellect and the Arts Lady Renae Akim on behalf of Elected President of Intellect and the Arts and Honorable Delegate to the World Assembly on behalf of Transcended AEthra Lady Ilera R. S. Melancon.

"Or, to put it briefly, my name is Renae, I'm an intern whose employer likes to use her as a mouthpiece because she's JUST too busy to come down here by her Eminent self, and I would love whatever form of chocolate you can recommend."

Something in her pocket beeped twice."Oh, and whatever illicit motives it is you're searching for, whether out of professional or personal paranoia, I assure you the task is purposeless. If I intend you harm, ridicule, or corporate sabotage, the entire bloody bar will be fully aware of it the moment I begin, if not five seconds sooner. I was not selected for gifts of subtlety."

Her pocket beeped again, this time loudly and incessantly with random pings and zapping noises. Her eyes the size of Wempef eggs, she sharply withdrew her hand and fumbled in her pocket for the source of the literally alarming sounds. "He told me that feature was just a joke..." Renae pressed a gray-green button on the side of her ManiFold, stared at the holographic readout, and rushed to a corner table where she proceeded to engage in a four-way teleholovid conversation with Emergency Commission directors from The Illustrious Renae, Intellect and Art, and Intellect and the Arts. "Ok, now, before anyone says ANYTHING, I would just like to clarify something here." She turned her attentions to the display from Intellect and Art.

"Kevin, what exactly do you mean by 'the zombie revolution is upon us'???"

Ten Minutes Ago

Eduard looked up; hearing the sounds of a “fore” being screamed…the smell of pesticides, and the flicker of sprinklers wasting water. He got off his residence (the pool table) and walked over to a window of the pub curiously, apparently in the five months he had been living in the bar, a golf course (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=585451) had been built across from the World Assembly Headquarters. He addressed the pub, “did anyone here know about a golf course being built across the headquarters!?”

Eduard realized that he had planted much of his “stash” underground in that area, he couldn’t let it be discovered by some unsuspecting groundskeeper. He flagged down Jimmy,

“Jimmy, get me my shovel, my parka, and a bottle of scotch, stat! I’m LEAVING THE PUB.”

Eduard grabbed his items and opened the door which let in a ray of illumination that burned Heir’s retinas; he moaned and put on aviators.

"An...d, nobody take my pool table while I'm gone. I'll be back in like an hour."
___________________________________

(OOC: thanks for moving it to the proper forum, Ardchoille.)

<snip> Renae ...rushed to a corner table.Disconcerted by the loss of her human shield, Avaya watched Doom walk towards her in the (admittedly very un-Doom-like) shape of Dicey Reilly. The woman could at least put her hair up, or get it cut, or something; flowing auburn ringlets on a woman who was surely in her 30s, really ...

The auburn ringlets suddenly disappeared under the weight of a suit-clad dandelion puff. William Edward Kelly seized his boss in an obscure Cumberland wrestling hold.

Thank you, Lady, thought Avaya devoutly. This, she knew, would take a few minutes to sort out. Bast had arranged a few months ago that members of the Ardchoillean delegation should attack each other at odd times: "We're getting too soft, too complacent," the spymaster had said then. "We need to be part of the security solution, not part of the problem."

All things considered, it looked as if Dicey was going to be a major part of Kelly's problems; the reluctant President conducted her bar-room brawls strictly according to Rafferty's rules. But that wasn't Avaya's concern.

"A Chocolate Glassing for my new friend," she told Jimmy hurriedly. "And we'll take it over there," she instructed, pointing to a suitably private, unarguably two-person, niche. Scooping up her own Death by Chocolate and the free drinks, she established herself pointedly at the table, waved Bast happily to the waiting Old 'n' Funkies and settled down to enjoy the sight of her superiors beating each other up.

... a golf course (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=585451) had been built across from the World Assembly Headquarters.

"That explains a lot," Neville said, wrinkling his nose fastidiously as the scent of fertiliser gusted into the Bar. "I've been having the most awful dreams about being back on the farm."

He did wonder how he'd managed to miss the building phase; but, after all, there was construction going on all around the new WA building, and he never went out by the front entrance, preferring to sneak out the back for his nightly jogs around the lake. (Neville was, at heart, a romantic, and sneaking out made everything seem so much more interesting than just walking out the door.)

He addressed the pub, “did anyone here know about a golf course being built across the headquarters!?”

"Yeah," murmured a Wabbit, "right over our local colony's roof, and without anybody bothering to ask our permission first..."

On finishing her conversations with the various council members, Renae looked about and was quite startled to see the greens that had mysteriously formed beyond the Bar windows. Shaking her head, she refolded her ManiFold, tucked it safely in her pocket, and made her way over to the bar for a refresher.

"Sea-glaze rimstock, if you please, and don't skimp on the rum. I assure you I can take it. Oh, and relocate half of Mme. Avaya's tab to mine. I feel awful for abandoning her like that, even if there was a zombie emergency." The Representative Intern shook her head once more at the very fact she was saying such a thing, and downed her drink rather quickly. "On second thought, barkeep, just leave the rum on the bar and charge me when I pass out... which should be in about a week. Intellect and Art has been exporting us their sobriety pills on the cheap."

Some days, she thought, it really helps to be a collegiate nation.

"Why not discuss it with her yourself?" suggested Neville. "She's cornered a table over there, and she's bought you one of Dazza's newest thingies -- it's called a Chocolate Glassing, it's supposed to be what you'd get if you glassed a nation with chocolate instead of nukes."

"Oh, stop babying the girl," objected Violet. "She's just hiding from her boss. She thinks Dicey wouldn't interrupt a conversation with anyone from your nation," she told the Librarian, snorting at the very idea. "As if there's anything Dicey wouldn't interrupt."

"I wouldn't interrupt anyone who'd be getting me a double," said Dicey, overhearing the last sentence. "I've gotta say, Kelly, that was some fight." Panting slightly, she punched her deputy's arm in comradely fashion. "So, loser buys?"

OOC: Couldn't tell by your phrasing whether you were meaning the drink for me or Bast... also doesn't help that it was waaayyy too early in the morning.. but anyway..

IC: "Ah. Well that was nice of her." Renae grabbed her 'free' drink and took a seat across the table from the young woman who had purchased it. "Sorry about that.. zombies. Still can't believe I'm actually saying that out loud. If Kevin hadn't happened to be smack in the middle of it all, he would still be singing 'I told you so!'s at me. I don't think I've ever seen a grown man so addicted to comic fiction and yet able to function in a government office. Granted, not usually at the same time..."

Adrian is visibly drunk, being supported by a host of his aides, who look a mixture of concerned, happy, embarrassed, and that certain regal air only Court members do have (if it does any sense at all). All he does while slumbering, is to yell:

- RENAE! -hiccup- whez... whuz... argh.. ze double!!! Cheers! Long Liiiive Leee Roi...

*falls to the floor in a deplorable scene, his aides put him standing up again*

The Aides: Hurrah!

"Sorry about that.. zombies. Still can't believe I'm actually saying that out loud. If Kevin hadn't happened to be smack in the middle of it all, he would still be singing 'I told you so!'s at me. I don't think I've ever seen a grown man so addicted to comic fiction and yet able to function in a government office. Granted, not usually at the same time..."

"Zombies? You had zombies? Eeeuuuw," shuddered Avaya. "It's not a problem we've had in Ardchoille -- for one thing, our Incredibly Fantastic Godmoded Magical Shield would keep them out, and for another, any witch with an ounce of compassion would just de-animate the bodies and send their poor abused spirits back where they belonged ... y'know, I just can't imagine how anyone could be that cruel, making people into zombies -- there's some sick puppies out there." Revolted, she shook off the thought. "So, how did you get rid of them, anyway?" she queried, casting a quick look over to the bar to make sure she wasn't about to be hauled out of this unexpectedly fascinating conversation.

She wasn't; over at the bar a less fascinating, often repeated, but still absorbing, exchange was developing.

"Loser pays? The hell you say. It goes on the Ardchoille tab, Dicey. If I'm going to suck the Government teat, I'm going to make sure the voters know how much." Kelly scrawled his signature on the chit, meticulously dating it, and pushed it over to Neville.

"Hmph! All very well for you; you're elected," Dicey sulked. "I'm here because I was sentenced to be here, and I've said all along, if the First Coven want it that way they're going to have to pay through the neck for it. I didn't ask for the job."

"The way I hear it, you were asking for it good and proper," Kelly demurred. "In fact, the way I hear it, you're lucky to be here. With what they had against you, you could have been sent to Your Room."

"Only because Phillippe had the Coven stacked!" the reluctant President said hotly. "And I nearly was exiled, but thank the Goddess a couple of the old stagers had enough ethics left to stand up to him. They couldn't get me off entirely -- even though I was innocent of anything really wrong, mind you -- but they thought this'd be a safe berth. Like they knew!" she snorted.

"You know, you witches really should stop claiming your Coven's decisions are religious," Kelly said. "There's any number of WA resos that give you the right to a fair trial, an' all. Why don't you just appeal to the Moot? I bet I could get a bill through ..."

"Separationofchurchan'state!" Dicey gabbled, shocked. "Anyway, there's no point in rehashing all this old stuff, Bill. And I'm not ready to challenge Phillippe in the Coven yet."

"I thought making young Avaya Foreign Minister was a challenge," Kelly said mildly. "You've made his niece's name a byword, you've let her consort with the Kennyites, you've even put her into a public service job -- which effectively makes her a criminal like yourself, even if the Coven didn't do it ..."

"It's all for her own good!" growled Dicey. "I like the girl, dammit! I wouldn't use her as a tool in a faction fight! She's too good for Phillippe and her hopeless mother to play their stupid games with. And besides," she added, tossing back her whiskey to the smell of burning bridges, "I'm glad she's consorting with the Kennyites! In fact, I think the particular Kennyite she's picked is probably the best of the bunch!"

Adrian is visibly drunk, being supported by a host of his aides, who look a mixture of concerned, happy, embarrassed, and that certain regal air only Court members do have (if it does any sense at all). All he does while slumbering, is to yell:

- RENAE! -hiccup- whez... whuz... argh.. ze double!!! Cheers! Long Liiiive Leee Roi...

*falls to the floor in a deplorable scene, his aides put him standing up again*

The Aides: Hurrah!

The good but unwholesome Senator Sulla looks disdainfully over at the representative from Sionis Prioratus, and snorts with an air of superiority,
"Amateurs! Damned shame when a person can't hold their liquor." Then the senator motions over to Jimmy and says,
"Jimmy, my boy! Set me up a couple of Boilermakers, and I'd prefer Wild Turkey Rare Breed(TM) if you will. And send over some milk or weak tea over to that poor fellow over there. The old boy can't handle his booze too well."

A waitress brought over the Boilermakers to the good but unwholesome Senator. He drops the shot of Wild Turkey Rare breed into the glass of beer and procedes to down the beverage.

Accelerus strode arrogantly into the bar, which was the same way he strode into any place, really. Spotting an empty stool at the bar, he pulled himself astride it. Nodding at the bartender, whose name he had completely forgotten, he asked quietly for a fifth of Clearwater Imperial Brandy and hunkered down to enjoy his time away from what little there was left of a bureaucracy in HotRodia.

A dirty faced Eduard climbed through the open window with his shovel, and a skeleton, as he walked over to Jimmy, gesturing him for a drink. The bartender grabbed a tea cup, and Eduard shot back at him, "Not Tea, do I look like I need tea!? I need a lobotomy on ice, thats what I need...my ex-girlfriend tried to find me, and they built a freaken sand trap over where I hid Mr. Dyson here" showing the skeleton like a prize. He opened his mini-refrigerator and shoved the skeleton in some how with the numerous jars of bodily fluids marked down to half price. Eduard looked up and saw the blank faces on some of the members of the bar, "um...Dyson here was an auto union manager in Unibot....and um...my father in law...at one time".

Heir looked over at the crocodile now occupying the pool table, "thats my home, you slimy bastard."

Eduard ran at the alligator swinging at it with his shovel, as it opened it jaws to snip at him.

Heir looked over at the crocodile now occupying the pool table, "thats my home, you slimy bastard."

Eduard ran at the alligator swinging at it with his shovel, as it opened it jaws to snip at him.
"Heathen! Blasphemer! Know that I am one of the sacred crocodiles of none other than Sebek Himself!" roared the crocodile, angrily. "Desist from this attack or it shall be the worse for you, for I shall smite you as Ramesses smote the Sea Peoples!"

Edward swung at the crocodile again, "it's time to show this scaly Arsinoeian bitch who's boss, next time you wake up you're going be on the set of The Mummy...."

Heir was ultimately very surprised at how easy it was to fight a crocodile in comparison to raccoons, whom he had several drunken bar fights with in back alleys and pub bathrooms.

After sending two more rounds in Adrian's direction, along with a Sobriety Pill, Renae turned back to her newfound companion. "Funny you should mention 'magic', because it was mindless superstition that created this mess in the first place. Intellect and Art isn't in the habit of burying dead bodies at all, except for a few small religious groups, and it was their ritualistically buried corpses that took a sudden liking to ambulation. The rest of the nation, being without dead bodies, was completely unaffected. To be quite honest, we were tempted to quarantine the affected cities and let them suffer the results of their beliefs. Unfortunately, someone in council has a kid brother who worships invisible sky fairies, so we were forced to be nice. It certainly wasn't the call I would have made, but then I suppose that's why I'll never be Chosen."

Taking a drink, Renae noticed Avaya's reaction, remembered what she had just been told, and backpedaled. "Not that I intend to suggest that there's anything wrong with genuine supernatural force, because there isn't. It just doesn't exist in the collective nations of Intellect and the Arts, Intellect and Art, and The Illustrious Renae. We're rather... um... what was that word the nicer tree-worshipers called me? Oh yes. 'Atheist'. We're rather 'atheistic' in my home region. I hope that fact is not by any means off-putting. I am, simply put, something of an amateur at the entire concept of the genuine supernatural. I mean no offense."

Heir was ultimately very surprised at how easy it was to fight a crocodile in comparison to raccoons, whom he had several drunken bar fights with in back alleys and pub bathrooms.... until the 'Acme Weapon Neutralisers' with which the Bar was fitted kicked in, and turned his shovel into a bunch of flowers, at which point fighting an intelligent crocodile -- even one whose teeth had temporarily gone rubbery, as was the case here -- turned out to be a LOT more difficult than that after all...

____________________________________________________________________________________________________ _____________________

OOC: Announcing the results of fights against other people's characters, rather than just announcing your own characters' actions and waiting for a response, is (unless the results have been privately agreed beforehand) considered to be "god-moding" and rather bad form...

OOC: Announcing the results of fights against other people's characters, rather than jsut announcing your own characters' actions and waiting for a response, is (unless the results have been privately agreed beforehand) considered to be "god-moding" and rather bad form...

it was a joke...errrrrrrrrr....

_________________________________________________

Eduard swung his shovel around in the air which suddenly became a bouquet of flowers. Heir looked at it, and stared at the rubber-clad crocodile, noticing at last how cute it really was.

Heir handed the Croc the handful of flowers, "here these are for you...."

Putting the flowers on the table beside the crocodile, he pleasantly took his drink from Jimmy which he had ordered earlier.

"At least they're better than princesses....I hate princesses"

"At least they're better than princesses....I hate princesses"

Eduard was approached a sword-bearing maiden, who had been watching the imbrolio from across the bar "And just what's wrong with Princesses?" she inquired

Eduard turned his head, as he was addressed, "Nothing Zena, expect when they try to slip poison in your drink, or stab you in the back by sleeping with a famous basketball player whose team you own. Or their unexplainable desire for massive weddings and hair curls which turns them into a royal bridezilla with a fire hazard rolled into their hair...."

"...other than that...nothing at all....except when they nag me about my drinking or smoking habits..."

Eduard turned his head, as he was addressed, "Nothing Zena, expect when they try to slip poison in your drink, or stab you in the back by sleeping with a famous basketball player whose team you own. Or their unexplainable desire for massive weddings and hair curls which turns them into a royal bridezilla with a fire hazard rolled into their hair...."

"...other than that...nothing at all....except when they nag me about my drinking or smoking habits..."

"I know not this Xena you speak of, nor of these bridezillas. Perhaps a taste of my iron would give you some sense. To Arms!" she cried and drew her sword, which had now turned into a rather mellow yellow pool noodle. The Princess (http://www.maskworld.com/pix/costumes/large/2089-walkuere-valkyrie.jpg) was caught off guard by this, and ceased her thrust towards the hapless Unibotian Ambassador.

Eduard turned his head, as he was addressed, "Nothing Zena, expect when they try to slip poison in your drink, or stab you in the back by sleeping with a famous basketball player whose team you own. Or their unexplainable desire for massive weddings and hair curls which turns them into a royal bridezilla with a fire hazard rolled into their hair...."

"...other than that...nothing at all....except when they nag me about my drinking or smoking habits..."

The blonde ambassador's aide from Karianis, Angela, not too far away, snorted loudly at Eduard's description of princesses. "Oh, gawd... If my mother tries to force any of that junk on me, please, someone, stab me."

She smirks at Eduard. "Oh, and ya realy need to stop watching TV. That stuff'll rot your brain and give you delusions about what us princesses are really like."

Suddenly there's the sound of an old-style alarm clock going off, although nobody can see one. The crocodile taps his stomach, and the noise stops.
"Ah," he says, "dinner time."
He climbs down off of the table, and walks across to the bar on just his hind legs. Addressing whichever of the staff is nearest, he says_
"You serve food here, yes? If you have it then I would like a side of raw pirate, that's been marinated for several days in a rum-and-chillis sauce."
Well, actually I'd like that even if you don't have it, but in that case I suppose I'd have to settle for something else instead..."

The Princess was caught off guard by this, and ceased her thrust towards the hapless Unibotian Ambassador.

Eduard ducked and fled from the wrath of her yellow pool noodle, "You are such a Princess..."

"Oh, and ya realy need to stop watching TV. That stuff'll rot your brain and give you delusions about what us princesses are really like."

Eduard heard a princess across the room talking, turning around as he smirked back.."I was trying to watch T.V but that royal ...bitch, that I married...was always nagging me."

The princess, seeing her blade now transformed into a rather tame pool toy, followed Eduard. Her rage had momentarily subsided.

Eduard ducked and fled from the wrath of her yellow pool noodle, "You are such a Princess..."

"Indeed."


Eduard heard a princess across the room talking, turning around as he smirked back.."I was trying to watch T.V but that royal ...bitch, that I married...was always nagging me."

"One bad seed is not a justification to cut down the entire tree."

"One bad seed is not a justification to cut down the entire tree."

Heir stopped, and frowned at himself. "Um...sorry. I ...um, guess ...I was wrong to be so...ignorant."

His face turned red with embarrassment, it had been a long time since he had admitted he had been wrong on, anything.

"Um... would you like a drink? Or a new sword...I suppose, I owe you a new one" Eduard looked down at the yellow noodle.

Eduard heard a princess across the room talking, turning around as he smirked back.."I was trying to watch T.V but that royal ...bitch, that I married...was always nagging me."

Angela laughs, smirking at Eduard. "Hey, it's not our fault you married someone like that. Most of us princesses are actually kind, sweet, gentle, friendly gals who just like pretty baubles."

There's a definite snort of disgust from the red-headed ambassador. "Angie, please, stuff a sock in it before I drown." Serifina rolls her eyes and goes back to her drink.

Eduard walked over to Angela, scratching his "Jack Sheppard on Heroin" beard, which reminded him he needed a shave.

"Well, that was a long time ago, she ran off with a prince about four years ago... fantastic tennis player, with a diverse set of talents, but if I remember correctly, a bit of a ...snotty conversationalist. Though, I suppose if I was raised from birth by aristocrats who profited from their nation's war over games of tennis, I would be just as much of a, eh, ass too."

Eduard coughed, leaving that last line way too open for scrutinizing.

Heir stopped, and frowned at himself. "Um...sorry. I ...um, guess ...I was wrong to be so...ignorant."[/wrong]

I suppose I have overreacted as well. Let us both put it past us."


[quote=Unibot]"Um... would you like a drink? Or a new sword...I suppose, I owe you a new one" Eduard looked down at the yellow noodle.

I will take your offer of a drink, the sword I can easily enough have replaced."

Angela laughs, smirking at Eduard. "Hey, it's not our fault you married someone like that. Most of us princesses are actually kind, sweet, gentle, friendly gals who just like pretty baubles."

"Mostly, but not all." she said devilishly

I will take your offer of a drink, the sword I can easily enough have replaced."


Eduard turned around happily, "hmm...and what will you be having to drink, this evening?"

We're rather 'atheistic' in my home region. I hope that fact is not by any means off-putting. I am, simply put, something of an amateur at the entire concept of the genuine supernatural. I mean no offense."

"And none taken," Avaya smiled. "I'm a bit that way myself. I don't think we use a supernatural force. We use a natural force: Will -- as in 'will yourself to do it', not as in 'Will Shakespeare'." She grinned feebly.

"Anyway, our studies are about at the level physics was, before Newton. Our practice is entirely empirical -- like, most times, if you do this, then that happens."

A negligent gesture set a small blue pentacle shining just above the table between them.

"But it's the 'most times' that's our brick wall," she continued. "We know it's use of my directed Will that put that symbol there. But what about the times when it doesn't? The trouble is, the only way we can study Will is through living beings, because that's the only situation in which we've found it operating. Meeting the Cats when we settled Ardchoille 600 years ago boosted our power, because they're Magical Creatures, but it didn't get us any closer to reliability. The god thing is the nearest we've been able to get."

She cast a furtive glance at Dicey. "My boss there -- she really believes she can draw on the power of the goddess Ceredwin. I mean, I've seen her raise the goddess -- She looked pretty much like Dicey, actually, only older. But I think she was really just drawing on the collective Will, and the 'person' we saw was just a sort of embodiment of it -- an avatar. She swung a mean right, though. Knocked Dicey head over heels."

Cheered by the memory, she dug into the Death By Chocolate. "Mmmmmmm. Blisss. Yeah, well, anyway, the religion bit. I can tell you from practical experience that the chanting helps, and the incense helps, and the drumming, and the herbs, and the symbols and the gestures and the special clothing and-the-ancient-language-and-the-phase-of-the-moon-and-the-whole-rigmarole-helps." She paused to take a breath; she'd begun to gabble as the list grew longer.

"What it helps do is focus the witch's Will. And when you've done that, there are dangerous forces, and you do need a protective circle. But what I can't tell you is why it works when I do it, and it doesn't when you do it, and maybe it won't work for me when I do it on Tuesday."

She looked directly at the Librarian, wondering why she'd suddenly come out with all this to someone she'd only just met. Maybe Librarians were born with some sort of Will-skill to draw out confidences.

"Anyway, that's enough about me. What about you -- is there anything about your boss that drives you crazy? Do you have as much trouble with the mob back home as we do? Do you think you'll like it here? ... Goddess, I sound like a press conference, sorry." Abashed, she busied herself with whipped-cream strata.

---------o0O0o---------

"You serve food here, yes? If you have it then I would like a side of raw pirate, that's been marinated for several days in a rum-and-chillis sauce."
Well, actually I'd like that even if you don't have it, but in that case I suppose I'd have to settle for something else instead..."

"Afraid you will," agreed Neville sadly; he hated admitting that the Bar was deficient in any way. "We do serve people here, but we don't serve them up. But look, come this way and have a chat with our chef, Dazza. Maybe he can do a vegetarian mock-pirate for you -- or kangaroo, it's very lean, not at all like long pig, but you might like it, and it marinades beautifully ..."

He almost hustled the crocodile into the dining room. Truth to tell, he was desperate to get out of the Bar for a bit; too much royalty in a confined space always brought on his asthma.

Eduard turned around happily, "hmm...and what will you be having to drink, this evening?"

"If this bar truely has every drink known, I would care for a Beofre."

"Aha...what she said. And another scotch" Eduard gestured Jimmy.

"Aha...what she said. And another scotch" Eduard gestured Jimmy.

"What became of your ex-wife?" she asked

"What became of your ex-wife?" she asked

Eduard coughed, "She left me for a prince, and got hit by a bus. Which sort of mixed me up between the denial stage of a break-up and a , eh, mourning/denial stage of a fallen love one. She gave me a box of Wheaties and a bottle of Advil in her will, which was surprising really. I wouldn't of thought she would have opted for the brand names instead of the cheaper no-names...really inspirational in all of her charitable wisdom."

Eduard coughed, "She left me for a prince, and got hit by a bus. Which sort of mixed me up between the denial stage of a break-up and a , eh, mourning/denial stage of a fallen love one. She gave me a box of Wheaties and a bottle of Advil in her will, which was surprising really. I wouldn't of thought she would have opted for the brand names instead of the cheaper no-names...really inspirational in all of her charitable wisdom."

"Perhaps her karma was to blame. From your descriptions it seems quite fitting to me."

"Well I wasn't the greatest spouse either" Eduard said as he gulped down his scotch.