NationStates Jolt Archive

His Imperial Majesty was an imposing figure.

This however is of little consequence, as many people are imposing in appearance. What distinguished the Emperor of Novus Arcadia from the others was the fact that he had taught himself how to be imposing, thus adding even more weight to his naturally vibrant, persuasive personality.

Tall, athletic, and still very young, the weathered possessor of the throne had seen times better suited to his unique brand of politics. His amazingly intricate string of alliances (so brilliantly planned and yet so clumsily assembled) was finally falling apart. But this crafty politician was not about to give in to his would-be enemies, nor did he plan to engage a single operative on a field of combat. He would reassemble his alliances and begin to bargain! It was a tide of blood and "revolutionary vision" that washed him onto the throne -- politics kept him there.

Austere, aristocratic, and yet strangely warm and personable (with those who might give him an advantage), Americanicus I sat quite comfortably on his velvet-trimmed throne. The famous blood red military jacket still draped his figure, accentuated by trousers of matching color and epaulettes of gold. Insanely proud of his vast accomplishments, he was the very image of power and authority. His firmly positioned leg gave him balance while his right foot lay on its side behind his left; an unusual position that gave him a full sweep of the ballroom . . . and put a greater strain on the eager nephew that stood at his right-hand side.

About His Excellency's waist was a sash -- three of them. Red, white, and blue, one half-covering the other. Unfortunately the liberty that girded him was too sharply contrasted by his perpetual use of black riding boots. Military boots.

He, his nephew, and a few other members of his entourage were expecting guests this evening. The open doors saw the appearance of important (and not-so-imporant) personages.

For any politician, it would have been an unbearable ordeal. For Americanicus, it was the usual business, and just as tolerable. . . .

OOC: Bring in any political personage you like! Oh, and the nephew is pretty roudy....

"Prime Minister, we will arrive shortly..." came from the drivers seat of the long black limo, just seconds after the separation window had began to roll downward.

"Very good, this is my first appearance outside of our nation's walls as the new leader of Syvatoslav" muttered the man from the back in a deeper than average tone and a mild roll of what imaginably was at one time to thick to speak English with.

It was not long after that particular moment that the limo and its single luxury sedan cleared past the security of the gates with a swift revealing of an invitation of some sort by one of the men in the tailing sedan. The limo slowly pulled itself up near the entrance of the estate, if that was what you could call it and the door was opened by the driver from it's occupant.

Aleksei looked out of the door for a brief moment in a glance as it first began to open before carefully moving one leg over the edge to step on to the ground and finally stand to his full height, that of which was rather impressive.

Aleksei Kol'ya Karpov, Prime Minister of The Republic of Syvatoslav was a man that seemed to command a certain amount of respect just by the looks of his person. Aleksei stood a towering six-foot-six with a body that was built like a brick wall, he was by no means toned or one that worked excessively at his muscular stature he was simply a man who could be described as big.

His size being a factor in itself, his face has never seemed to be that of an exceptionally nice tone, his mouth surrounded by a thick coal black mustache, a usual slight furrowing of his brow in seriousness and his head of brushed back hair that was beginning to gray at the temples, despite him being only about thirty-nine and a pair of dark blue-green eyes.

It seemed that within second of Aleksei stepping from his limo he was met at his sides by two suited men who Aleksei swiftly only made a half grunting half growl noise at and they stepped back behind him.

Adjusting his bowtie minutely he let his monstrous calloused hands hang at his sides and places a dim smile of tolerance upon his lips as he took his first step forward, the material of his immaculate black three piece tuxedo styled suit wishing lightly in the motion of his movement.

Approaching the entrance doors, Aleksei paused to take one deep breath and step within the building with a massive stride, his eyes glancing over the room he instantly caught the throne of their host for the evening. Slowly Aleskei came toward the throne, stopping to bow with a small flourish of his arm he began to introduce himself with his, as some would describe booming voice, toned for the occasion of course.

"Prime Minister, Aleksei Karpov, Syvatoslav..." He said as he arose back to his straight-standing position with the same smile he had put on before to the man before him.

The diplomatic jet streaked into the skies of Novus Arcadia. Inside sat Lord Barbarossa, President of Snake Eaters, and the leader of the Assembly. Five days ago, the summons for this conference had been heard. Snake Eaters had decided to respond in a positive manner.

As the jet touched down, an uinmarked black car sped across the tarmac, and puled up alongside the aircraft. The driver jumped out, and saluted,"Mr. President"

Barbarossa gave the man a curt nod as he passed him, sliding onto the leather seatback. Within a minute or so, the car drew away from the airfield, and began the hour long journey to the ball...

As they pulled up, Barbarossa checked his suit one final time. The President of Snake Eaters was a fairly quiet man, about five foot ten in his socks, but with a manner that instantley commanded respect. His stance suggested a man who had seen much and understood more, and his piercing grey eyes made the toughest of men blanche before him. He stepped out the car, the highly bulled toe-caps of his black leather shoes gleaming in the lights, a nice addition to the grey, double-breasted Amarni suit that he wore to such occasions. Smart, cool and sophisticated he reminded himself, a tad nervous as he approached the doors. This would be one of the first functions that Snake Eaters had attended, and he wanted it to be a success.

Spying his host for the evening, seated on his throne, he bowed his head in a gesture of respect,"President Lord Barbarossa, Snake Eaters"

The diplomatic ball had just gotten under way, when a soft, high-pitched whine was heard near the ballroom entrance. The air shimmered for a few seconds, and all could see that something, or someone, was materialising.
Who stood there made quite a spectacle.
Alaric Tan'it, Emperor of Xeraph, was tall, even in a room full of tall people. Six-foot-six he stood, garbed in all his regal finery. Nothing effeminate...no silks, satins, or lace, as some of the national leaders dressed. No, Alaric was clothed in the finest leather and chainmail, all black, from head to foot.
His floor-length cloak was made of the skins of the panther, and his swords were of the finest Damascus steel, forged in the secret caves of Koth.
His brown hair hung past his shoulders, held in place with a simple band of iron, studded with a single ruby.
With him came a squad of bodyguards seldom seen by any outside Xeraph. They were the Brujah.....the undead. Vampires all, they were as deadly as they were sinister. About eight feet tall, garbed in black, coarse robes which hid their heads and feet. Beneath those robes was death, dealt out to those who dared to come too close to Alaric without permission.
There were just ten of them. That was all that was necesary. Ten Brujah were worth a hundred of anything else. After all, you couldn't kill them...they were already dead.
In 15 seconds, all of the Xeraphian entourage was fully present.
" Greetings!", Alaric said. " I am Alaric Tan'it, Emperor of Xeraph, and these are my.....friends." He gestured at the Brujah.
" It is a relative rarity that I attend these dinners myself, but I felt it was time to personally introduce myself to this esteemed gathering." He grinned wolfishly, obviously enjoying the stares of the representatives of the newer nations who had heard of, but never seen, the Xeraphian Emperor.
" I want to thank my host for throwing this party, and I wish to extend an invitation to all nations present who do not yet have embassies in Xeraph to do so. A nation who is a friend of Xeraph is a precious commodity these days."
As he strode to his seat, the crowd parted to let him pass, many questions going through their minds.....

Next to arrive was T’varin Kaledril, High King of Sar Kadverion. He strode calmly into the ballroom, his eerie grace and silent tread marking him as one of the elven races. T'varin stood about 5'8" tall, and had a slender build. His hair, his skin, and even the whites of his eyes were black. He was clad in loose, flowing garb of some dark grey cloth, and carried a long, bronze-hilted knife and a quiver of arrows at his belt. A short bow was strapped to his back, and he bore an intricately carved wooden staff.

Behind him came his four bodyguards. First were two more Shadow Elves, dressed in mottled clothing of dark green, brown, and grey. Each had a bow and a quiver of arrows, like those carried by T'varin himself; one had a longsword sheathed at his side, while the other carried a short, double-bladed spear. Behind them flitted a creature that seemed little more than a three-dimensional shadow - dark, featureless, and slightly transparent. It was dressed in pure black, and bore an impressive assortment of daggers. In the rear was a hulking, nine foot monster that seemed to be formed from a fractured granite boulder. A massive axe was slung across his back, though he looked like he had no need for the weapon. This was the only member of the group that didn't move in near silence.

T'varin bowed low before the Emperor, his staff somehow remaining balanced while he did so.
"Greetings. I am T'varin Kaledril, current High King of Sar Kadverion. My thanks for your invitation."

Princess Victoria walked into the ballroom flanked by four knights, each in different armour styles. Her near-black eyes sweeping over the other arrivals as well as the host, absorbing thier appearence and dress. She walked up to the throne and curtsied before the Emperor.
"Greetings Emperor Americanicus, I am Princess Victoria of Theao, we are honoured to be here."

ooc: Princess
http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/6327.jpg face
http://www.jeannienitro.com/tf74cu.jpg clothing
Knights
http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/kim2.jpg
http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/6298.jpg
http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/6337.jpg
http://raph.com/3dartists/artgallery/kim3.jpg

must copy/paste for links to work properly

Amongst the regal, impressive, and imposing figures which had begun to fill the hall, Michael Heroin (a man modest enough not to think twice about naming an entire nation after himself) seemed most inadequate. Dressed in a second hand black suit and tie, with a shirt which had once belonged to his older brother, Michael managed not only to stand a good half foot below the shortest guests, but he also acheived the effect of looking more like a waiter than any kind of political figurehead.

Perhaps the only reason he had been allowed in was because of his body guard. Ariadne Lexxburg stood as tall and imposing as anyone else in the room, and, fully clad in black, skin-tight leather and holsters for her twin-pistols containing a variety of easily concealed weapons and poisons. more than likely It was generally assumed that she was the diplomatic leader and he was her PA or something. Sighing he approached the throne and gave a semi-elegant bow,

"Michael Heroin, at your service."

A group of protestors bursts into the room, hang a banner asking for support of N Y C, as it is being invaded for no reason by a domineering state that threatens world trade, and promptly leave before they can be "escorted" out...

Michael would possibly have been more impressed by the protesters if this kind of thing didn't happen to him all the time, people back home protested on everything from minimum wage levels to legally allowing people to have a few extra birthdays a year, it had become almost a sport on how well orginized, original, and drunk the protester could be, He rated this attempt at about a two.

Shrugging he turned away from them, there was a lot of disharmony in the universe, and you couldn't help everyone.

T'varin watched each of the newcomers as they arrived, keeping an especially close eye on Michael Heroin. None knew better than him how foolish it was to underestimate someone because of his appearance.

He gave the protestors an odd glance, and made a mental note to look into the situation when he had time.

As the prostesters chuckled over their moral victory on the sidewalk a black limosine pulls up. THe diver gets out and opens the back door for a man in his early twenties. Head of State Matt Scheffert, the leader of the small upstart nation of Kassyyk takes a deep breath of the cool night air before buttoning the top of the two buttons on his white tuxedo jacket. He runs a hand through his wavy dark brown hair and steps towards the door. He is dressed in black tuxedo pants, but a white jacket over a silver vest. His nerves are going crazy as this is his first official function since being elected as the first leader of the Rogue Nation of Kassyyk.

As he enters the ballroom he graciously accepts a small flute of champagne before trying to find himself a marble pillar to lean against. His boysih charm could not be lost even in these tense circumstances. Matt takes a sip of his drink while waiting for some other diplomat to make the first move towards a conversation.

Alaric was accepting a plate of fruit from a voluptuous female when one of the protesters broke from the pack and made a beeline for him. She had almost reached him, hand raised to tap him on the shoulder when she felt a thump on her chest. She looked down, and looked back up with a puzzled look on her face. She couldn't remember how she could have gotten blood on her blouse. She glanced slightly to her left, and saw one of those tall vampire-thingys holding something in his hand which dripped blood. As she came to understand that what it was holding was her still-beating heart, she uttered a short scream, then collapsed.

For about 3 seconds, there was silence, then one by one the guests returned to their conversations. Servants dragged the body away as the security team ushered the rest of the protesters outside.

"Great way to start a party", Alaric thought............

Michael Heroin was recieved by Americanicus, who asked him a few questions about his homeland and gave him the usual warm greeting.

The Emperor passed a compliment to Princess Victoria when she approached him. Jonathan Loyst, his young nephew, took an involved step towards the princess. He had seen her beauty and had set himself a new task. His uncle was no strict taskmaster, just an annoyingly accurate critic of his thoughts, ambitions, and desires. Loyst knew when to avoid crossing him or disrupting his plans.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Americanicus rose from his presiding seat. This translated into the ballroom's population refocusing its attention, one by one. This was not an obligatory focus -- it was entirely natural. The graceful stride of the Emperor and the charming way in which he conversed with his guests gave him his well-deserved reputation as a charismatic host. If they only knew that every one of his actions was carefully thought out before they ever even occurred; if they only knew, they would probably admire him even more than they already did. . . .

Easily navigating the straight path that the crowd had made for him, he greeted Alaric Tan'it (Emperor of Xeraph), T'varin Kaledril (King of Sar Kadverion), and Matt Scheffert (leader of Kassyyk). Americanicus' very face gave away all pretence at formality and yet one was put into a wild fit of nervousness when confronted with a man like him. Some how, Americanicus made them feel comfortable; at ease; stable; relaxed.

"Hello Prince Jonathan, how may I help you?" Victoria asked as she picked up one the appitizers off a nearby table.

Matt looked around frantically as he saw Emperor Americanicus approaching him. Not moments earlier had the leader of Kassyyk watched a protester fall dead on the ground, and now one of the most powerful men in the world was fast approaching him. As the ruler of Novus Arcadia walked towards him Matt thought that he recognized the glimmer in the man's eye. The feelings of confusion and fear washed away in an instant.

Scheffert was not elected to head up the government of Kassyyk because of his political stances or because of fame, in fact the young man had thrown his hat into the ring on a dare from his pubmates before taking a supreme intrest in the workings of his new country. The people of his hometown of Valletta campaigned hard for him. It was Matt's good natured, easy going, every man personality that the voters truely appreciated and their votes showed it. He beat out two men with substantially bigger campaign budgets and political clout.

The charismatic Americanicus continued in Matt's direction so he did the only thing he could think of. He raised his glass to eye level and cocked his head down in a shallow nod of acknowledgment. The Emperor smiled and nodded back putting Matt at ease with being a form in the background. But could he hold his own if one of these powerful guests were to strike up a conversation? That certainly would rely on the topic he thought.

He could probably ramble on for hours with one of the younger attendees about the Kassyyk Professional Football League and the upcoming U21 World Cup that the Raging Red would be partaking in, but if the talks shifted to policy he feared drowning in his own indecision.

General John Csaszar, looked through the tinted windows of the long black limousine as it pulled up to the palace. He could see quite the commotion outside and it looked like guards were dragging out the body of a dead women from the building. He glanced over at his 25 year old son, Marc and their four SDF (Special Doweir Forces) body guards. Marc had never been outside the region, and none of them had been to this vast country before.

It should be an interesting experience, thought John.

John and his entourage were quickly hustled into the ballroom to avoid any confrontations. He stood at the entranceway and looked around. There were already hundreds of people there from all over. He was not yet used to these diplomatic gatherings and was a little nervous and in awe of its splendor, but he was a man who could hid his emotions well.

He noticed that many of the leaders were quite tall, even compared to his 6’2 frame. Looking around, he finally saw the Imperial Majesty of NA in the midst of the crowd. He strolled over in his formal event costume, black cloak over black pants and shirt, with a red vest and bow tie, still a little unused to not wearing his military uniform.

Giving a slight bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, your Excellency. I am General John Csaszar, Supreme Leader of Doweir, and this is my son Marc.”

Barbarossa sipped at his wine, taking in the full flavour. It was good, he estimated at least a fifty year vintige, if not more. So many had arrived... and the disturbance had caused some bother. Throughout that entire incident, he had kept his hand on the shoulder holster, which carried his personal weapon. A customised .45 Heckler & Koch USP, with silencer affixed.

He smiled at any number of people, engaging in light conversation. He had noticed the Princess of Theao, which according to the latest report from Colonel Cougar was a nation well-worth extending the hand of friendship to. Maybe this would be the chance he had been waiting for to open the relations between them... if that damn nephew of the Emperor could move away from her for five seconds.

Tag, I'll be making a post before the end of the day.

As he saw the way the bodyguard had dispatched of the protester Michael closed his eyes and bit his lip. He was not going to get angry, he was not going to create a diplomatic incident, that was the one thing he'd deevided before coming here, no insulting various political powers, and definately, no starting wars!
"Try to relax Michael."
Ariadne's hand on his arm made him realise that he'd clenched his fists, he loosened his hands, but his frame somehow refused to un-tense,
"I'm sorry Ari, It's just little much to take in..."
She gave him a sympathetic look,
"I know. You wait here, I'll go get us some drinks."
"Right."
Michael sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and glancing around the guests, but his mind continued to return to the girl lying on the floor. Who was she? did she have a husband? a wife? children? Were there people waiting for her to come back who would never now know what had befallen her? Was somoneone going to move her? Would they even akgnowledge that she was there?
His eyes were drawn back to the girls body, blood pooling around her and he felt suddenly angry. Not at her killer, but at the world leaders who were so casually tiptoeing around her body. She'd come here because she'd beleived in something, becuse she'd hoped that they, if no one else, would listen. These were the most powerful people in the world for crying out loud, acting as though a human being who had only wanted them to know she existed was so far beneath their contempt that she didn't even bear a passing glance.

It wasn't good enough. He didn't have to cause any trouble, he didn't have to insult anyone, but by god, he could not andwould not compromise his morals just because no one else cared!

Michael began to walk towards the girls body, no longer caring about keeping up any kind of apperence. He knelt beside her and began checking her pockets until finally he found an ID card. He stared at it for a moment, "Christi Felter", she was nineteen years old. At least now if somone was waiting for her return they could get some kind of closure.

Johnny Rydden pulled at the dark red tie around his neck. 'God, I hate these things' he thought to himself. Still, first impressions... He loosened the tie just enough to breathe easier, then tucked it back into his dark green uniform, his numerous awards clinking together as he did so. As he pulled up to the estate, he glanced out the window, where several uniformed men were carrying a girl's body, still occasionally dripping blood, into another building. Johnny said a short 'Hail Mary', crossed himself, and stepped out of his car. The vintage 1967 Shelby Cobra rumbled beneath him as he stepped out. He glanced at the young valet, who was standing with a big smile on his face, and then leaned over, checking the odometer. When he straightened back up, the valet's smile was nearly gone. Johnny turned and walked up to the large double doors at the front of the estate's largest building, sidestepping the droplets of blood. Before he entered, he reached into his jacket, pulled out his M1911 Colt .45, checked the magazine, and replaced it in its holster. Satisfied, he rang the doorbell and awaited an answer. After a brief moment, he was shown inside to a large room, already with several groups of people milling around. He spotted a man on a throne. . 'That'd be Americanicus.' he thought, and headed towards him. He spotted a pool of blood on the floor, being set upon by several aides, and decided that he should slow down a bit. He finally made his way to the Emperor, bowed curtly, and introduced himself. He pulled a bottle of Zeon Daikun's finest champagne out of his attaché case, from 1932, arguably the best year in the nation's history. He grabbed two glasses from the tray of a nearby attendant, poured the champagne from them into two other glasses, and filled them from the bottle he had brought. Smiling, he offered one to the Emporer, and drank one himself, to show that he meant no harm.

Matt rubbed a hand over his freshly shaven face, then tried to tuck a loose lock of hair behind his ear.

"I'm in way over my head," he thought to himself. He looked over to President Michael Heroin and saw that he was not alone is his unease over the measures taken by security on the young female protestor. Now the formalities that the military man was engaging in sent questions flowing through his head.

"Was I supposed to bring a gift? What could I offer him? A pet? A vacation? Man, I have no idea what to do." While those words coursed through his head Matt remembered the advice of his best friend and his adivser on...well everything at the moment, "just relax and be yourself. Kassyyk survived for centuries before sending you out on the first international efforts, no need to hide or pretend anything."

Barbarossa moved closer to the Kassyykian representative,"Calm down. I don't think anyone is happy about what just happened. Just go with it for now"

Matt shook his head slightly to clear it up. Noting that his emotions were on clear display to everyone. He turned to Barbarossa and stumbled on his words.

"Yes...yes of course. Please excuse me, but this is my first dimplomatic affair. I haven't strayed far from the forests of Kassyyk very often."

This is almost mine as well*extends hand*I'm Barbarossa, President of Snake Eaters, and you are?

"Matthew Scheffert, leader elect of Kassyyk. It is a pleasure to meet you sir."

No need for the 'sir'. Good to meet you Matthew

Michael stood and watched the Aides take the body from the hall. He felt better knowing that he hadn't stood by and done nothing, as though his small gesture would have meant anything to the dead girl.
When he turned around he was met by Ariadne, whose cool eyes met his with neitheer justifiction nor judgement. They had yet to see if there would be a conscequence for what he'd done, though he hoped there would be none. She offered him a glass of champaigne, which he took without a word.

"Michael, you do know that you're covered in blood?"
He shot her a quick smile,
"Well no one could see it down their on the floor, I'm just displaying it better..."

T'varin made his way through the crowd to where Michael was standing.
"You're going to contact the girl's family and explain what happend? You, sir, are a good man. I wish I could have healed her, but the killing was too fast." he said quietly.

Michael glanced down, feeling awkward for a moment,
"Thanks, It's just...the decent thing to do...good to know that somone else in here actually gave a damn." He glanced back up, meeting the otherr mans eyes, "I'm sorry, I don't beleive we've met..."

Next to arrive was T’varin Kaledril, High King of Sar Kadverion. He strode calmly into the ballroom, his eerie grace and silent tread marking him as one of the elven races. T'varin stood about 5'8" tall, and had a slender build. His hair, his skin, and even the whites of his eyes were black. He was clad in loose, flowing garb of some dark grey cloth, and carried a long, bronze-hilted knife and a quiver of arrows at his belt. A short bow was strapped to his back, and he bore an intricately carved wooden staff.
((Quoted for description))
The Shadow Elf bowed slightly. "T'varin Kaledril, of Sar Kadverion. I know what you mean... there are some in my homeland who will kill just as lightly as that one's bodyguards."
He nodded toward Alaric.
"I'm doing my best to keep that sort of thing from happening, but if I try to move too quickly, many will stop obeying me at all. It is hard, knowing that I must wait while the helpless die."

ooc: I saw the description earlier, Michael just didn't notice him is all :)

"Michel Heroin"
The President gave a slightly clumbsy bow in response to Sar's introduction, before giving a tight smile,
"you know what they say, there's no room in politics for the morally inclined, everything's always got to be shades of grey, keeping the good balancd with the bad...I'm afraid I'm not to good at that..."

OOC: Ah, got it. That makes sense.

"There are so many extremes in Sar Kadverion that someone has had to keep things balanced and make compromises, or the country would have torn itself apart long ago. My people are generally fairly good at seeing different points of view, and have often served that role; that's one of the biggest reasons that we are in power. I don't like having to put up with a lot of what goes on in the world, but too often the only alternative is war, and that usually just makes the situation worse."
T'varin sighed, a distant look in his dark eyes.

"Lord Kaveron, I feel that you are a man who thinks and feels in many ways as I do." Michael spoke softly, looking admirably at the man he addressed, "In my own nation the people are for the greatest majority, posessed of a powerful compassion, so seing such things as this really get to me. But Sometimes we must let such things pass to preserve those compassionate ones who look to us for guidance." He put a comforting hand on the other mans shoulder, "you are a good man yourself Sar Kaveron, and I sincerely hope that our association does not end with this night"

"Thank you." T'varin replied, smiling. "I, also, hope we can work together in the future. Perhaps the time will come when such darkness passes, and all can live in peace and safety."

Michael gave a sad little smile, "We can keep hoping at least."

It was at this point that Ariadne chose to speak again, "Michael?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you ready to wash your hands yet, they're still covered in blood."
Michael glanced down, his shirt too was stained red with the girls death. He was quiet for a moment, before conceding,
"I should probably find a bathroom or something..."

Johnny didn't know any of the other diplomats, so he figured he might just as well observe. He leaned against the wall near the back corner, a glass of champagne in one hand, a pamphlet he had found in the other. The pamphlet breifly described Novus Arcadia's history, government, military, and trade. 'These guys would make some good allies' he thought to himself. 'Maybe after it settles down a bit I'll go chat with Americanicus. See what he thinks.'

"I can deal with that for you, if you wish."

Alaric was acutely aware of the murmuring about the dead protester. However, they didn't understand that several enemy nations had in the past tried to have him assasinated, quite often using the most innocuous methods. The Brujah that had killed her recognised her immediately as an agent of Al Jabur al Shek, who was a sworn enemy of all that was Xeraphian. The tattoo of the al Shekian jihad was visible for a split second as she reached for Alaric, a blood-red crescent encircled by flames.
" My friends, do not be alarmed or dismayed by the death of this 'protester'. She made an attempt on my life, as many have tried before. If you examine her fingernails, you will undoubtedly find a poisonous compound, originating from the lands of Al Jabur al Shek, who has pledged my destruction. Xeraph conducted a successful campaign against this terrorist scum some time ago, all but destroying them. There are evidently a few leaders left who carry on their dead master's wishes. We will find them, and eliminate them. Rest assured, you are all safe here. My....friends....know your hearts are in the right place, and will see to it that they remain there." Alaric allowed a small smile at the pun, hoping to alleviate some of the tension.
" Come, let us put this behind us......"

A very expensive and well protected Limo glided gracefully up to the curb in front of the Palace which was staging the diplomatic ball. Ambassador Michelle Langley of the Peoples Republic of the Irish Free States exited the vehicle pausing momentarily to view the buildings architecture. Michelle an attractive young woman of 26 was wearing a elegant cream dress that revealed her slender 5' 7" figure, she wore a light scarf of the same colour around her neck that covered her exposing bosoom that her low cut dress betrayed. Her hair was short only brushing her shoulders and her eyes where hazel and beamed of intellegence, her constant bodygaurd Thomas Broe stood next to her towering over Michelle at 6' 6" Thomas was heavely musceled and almost looked like he would burst out of his balck tuxedo. His hair was black and well groomed he had sharp chiseled feature that where marred only by a small scar on his chin.

Michelle was the first to move and entered the glamorus palace leaving Thomas trailing behind his eyes searching for the hidden threat even though this was a mission of peace. Michelle was directed to the ballroom by a number of servants. Upon entering the ballroom Michelle imeadatly noticed a blood stained man on the far side of the room, seemingly so did her bodygaurd who immeadatly stepped in front of her.
"Out of my way Thomas !! this situation is under control"
Michelle hurried around the human wall which was thomas and made for the Emperor.
"Ambassador i must protest ..." whined thomas
"yes you do that now stop making a scene we are not here for the wine" hissed Michelle shooting her bodygaurd with a savage look.
When Michelle reached the Emperor she steadied herself, she had met regal figures before but this Emperor was the most impressive, and commanding she had ever met. With a graceful curtisy Michelle dipped low and spread her dress sweeping it out to her sides.
"Greetings Emperor Americanus i am Ambassador Michelle Langely for the Peoples Republic of the Irish Free States. This is my bodygaurd Cpt Thomas Broe of the National Rangers we are here on a mission of peace and we would like to establish freindly relations between your glorious Empire and our Humble nation."
Michelle remained in the curtisy awaitng a reply her head held low and her scarf beginnig to slip off her shoulders.

Alaric's statement pissed Johnny off. He slipped out and into the building he had seen the guards bring the girl's body into. He found the corpse under a white sheet, pulled it back just enough to scrape a sample off of her fingernails, and dumped the samples onto his pocket analyzer (Roughly the same size as a PDA, but with far more functions). He observed the scans, glanced at her arm, replaced the sheet, and headed back into the ballroom. He gave a loud whistle to draw attention, particularly that of Alaric. When everyone had quieted, he spoke in a loud, clear voice.
"Alaric, I find it amusing that crimson nailpolish originates from Al Jabur al Shek, let alone it being a poisonous compound. She did have a strange tatoo, though. A dragon curved in the shape of a crescent moon, surrounded by flames shooting out of its mouth. What say you, Alaric? Was she still an assassin?"

All eyes were on Alaric and his.....accuser. The Brujah immediately shifted their stance, ready for a word from their master.
Alaric glanced at this..Johnny.. from Zeon Daikun, wondering just what in hell he was up to. The Xeraphian Emperor was unperturbed, as befitted an Emperor of his distinction.
" My esteemed collegue from Zeon Daikun seems to have some sort of problem with my body-guard's dispatching of an assasin. Undoubtedly due to his lack of information concerning my enemies." The added emphasis on the word 'enemies' was caught by more than a few ears.
" Whether it was a crescent, or a dragon, or anything else, it was determined by my guard that she was a threat. The Brujah have only one way of dealing with threats to my person. If you, or anybody else, has a problem with my security team," he said with that wolfish grin again, " then I would be happy to discuss it further with you. However, neither I nor my guards will tolerate an outburst like that again. You will comport yourself like a leader should, with sensitivity and discretion. Not to mention.....respect."
Alaric's tone was unmistakable. He was not known for his patience with disrespect, and his voice quavered on the edge of fury. His hands were on his swords, his eyes holding Johnny transfixed with a warning: take this further, and reap the consequences of your actions.
" What say you.....Johnny?"

Matt Scheffert, the leader elect of Kassyyk shifted nervously on his heels next to Barbarossa. He had already seen one life ended tonight and he feared that it may not be the last if these escallations continued. However Matt was never one to meddle in things beyond his business, knowledge, or control so he set stride away and towards some of the young, more stable dignitaries to see if he could strike up some sort of menial conversation.

Without waiting for a response from the delegate from Zeon Daikon, Alaric whirled and said loudly, " Mr. Scheffert, a word with you please." It was not a question, but a command, and Alaric mentally caught himself even as he spoke. He was not in the habit of asking anybody anything. Rather, he was of the opinion that when he spoke, people listened, and scurried to do his bidding.
That was all well and good in Xeraph, but they were not in Xeraph at present.
" Mr. Scheffert, my apologies. The tensions of the moment, no? Might I have the pleasure of your company for a few minutes? I assure you it will be time well spent."
Alaric said this with one eye on Johnny......he didn't want any more confrontations this evening. But he would not back down from one, either....

Ricala was late. He had just arrived from a diplomatic mission to a newly discovered planet in the Typhon Expanse. Actually, he had been initially surprised at the invitation to this party, conference, whatever it was. Not many people knew of his existence....and that was the way he liked it.
His official title was King of Auralinia, Lord Director of The Xeraphian Space League. He had spearheaded the push into space all those years ago, and was now the titular head of an organization whose population numbered in the billions, the result of Emperor Alaric Tan'it's decree that the Expanse be settled as quickly as possible. The resultant decision by Ricala was to ship most of the populations of the Xeraphian subject-nations into the Expanse.
The Empire was comprised of nine nations, all loyal subjects of the Emperor. They unhesitatingly began preparations to embark on this latest of Alaric's decrees. All they had to wait for was the completion of enough AI units to replace the humans who would be leaving.
With the exception of the military and the diplomatic support teams, all of the functions of the Xeraphian Empire were tended to by various forms of Artificial Intelligence Units. The routine and mundane jobs of the Empire were no longer the problem of it's human citizens. They were now free to use their considerable freedom to establish settlements on planets far, far away.
But, back to the party.
There had evidently been some sort of disturbance during dinner. There were still traces of blood on the floor, and Alaric was facing down a slim, somewhat arrogant-looking individual.
He sighed. This was why Alaric didn't go out much. Trouble always seemed to find him. And he was not the type to run from it.
Looking around, he spied his host, Emperor Americanicus, surrounded by a bevy of admirers.......or boot-lickers, however you viewed it.
" Your Majesty, may I introduce myself. Ricala of Auralinia, at your service."

After things had settled down a bit, Johnny made his way over to Alaric, wary of the security guards. "Good on you, man! You've passed." he exclaimed. "I should probably explain. I've been sent by my commandant, Shiro Amada, to seek out prospective allies. He said to be sure that they knew how to react to tight or unorthodox situations. I had originally come to establish an alliance with Novus Arcadia, but when I saw how calm you were after that assassin, I realized how powerful an ally, you could be. So, following orders, I put you in an unorthodox situation. Damned if I could have stayed that calm in your place." He grinned. "I think you may find my nation quite a powerful asset should any conflicts arise, and as a demonstration of goodwill, I would like to extend an offer. If you would like, Zeon Daikun's strike team, Sigma, will be deployed to Al Jabur al Shek to seek out the remaining terrorist threat. Sigma should be more than sufficient enough to track them down and place them in custody." He extended his hand, awaiting either acceptance or rejection. Knowing how Alaric must have felt during his announcement, he wouldn't be surprised if the Xeraphian declined.

" Mr. Scheffert, my apologies. The tensions of the moment, no? Might I have the pleasure of your company for a few minutes? I assure you it will be time well spent."


"Of course sir. PLease forgive me skitishness at present. This is my first ball and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Hopefully no such attempts are made during next weeks festivities in Aronica. We would be honored if you had the chance to visit our fair jungle capital. There may be many things going on that would interest you."

Michael watched the further events unfold before him. It seemed almost pathetic to him for the girl to be used even after she had died as some political horse. Everyone trying to be justified or self rightious or just trying to scope each other out. It was pathetic. He turned back to Sar bitterly,

"Don't bother, every time they look at me they'll have to look at that girls blood."

His eyes flicked up to meet The other man's cautiously,

"What did you think of all that?"

ooc: politics may not be the right line of work for this man...

"To put it bluntly, I don't trust Alaric. If it was an assassination attempt, why didn't he mention that when it ocurred? He could be telling the truth, though, and we can't get any proof one way or the other with the body gone. As for that man from Zeon Daikun... It's foolish not to get what information one can from a situation, but how can he turn an event like that into a test?"

T'varin left one thought unspoken. If that was such a threat that instant death was an appropriate response, Alaric must not be very well defended against poison.

Michael flashed Sar an unexpected smile then, "The body is gone, yes, but the world moves on paper don't you know? Somone out there registered an Id with the name and age of one girl on it, If she was an assassin then I'll find out about it."
He turned then, and looked across the hall to the two men, Alaric standing with some delagate as the man who a moment ago had condemned him now seemed all too eager to befriend him.
"I suppose you can trust a Xeraph to be a Xeraph. The other man worries me more...."

"Good... Very good. And I'm definitely going to keep an eye on Zeon Daikun, there's no question about that."

After things had settled down a bit, Johnny made his way over to Alaric, wary of the security guards. "Good on you, man! You've passed." he exclaimed. "I should probably explain. I've been sent by my commandant, Shiro Amada, to seek out prospective allies. He said to be sure that they knew how to react to tight or unorthodox situations. I had originally come to establish an alliance with Novus Arcadia, but when I saw how calm you were after that assassin, I realized how powerful an ally, you could be. So, following orders, I put you in an unorthodox situation. Damned if I could have stayed that calm in your place." He grinned. "I think you may find my nation quite a powerful asset should any conflicts arise, and as a demonstration of goodwill, I would like to extend an offer. If you would like, Zeon Daikun's strike team, Sigma, will be deployed to Al Jabur al Shek to seek out the remaining terrorist threat. Sigma should be more than sufficient enough to track them down and place them in custody." He extended his hand, awaiting either acceptance or rejection. Knowing how Alaric must have felt during his announcement, he wouldn't be surprised if the Xeraphian declined.


Alaric was a bit unused to the contrasting feelings of surprise and indignation.
" You play a dangerous game, my friend. Not many would dare test me." He glanced across the room, further surprised to see Ricala, his kinsman. " M'lord Ricala", he boomed, " come meet one who thinks to test the Empire of Xeraph!"
Ricala moved across the room, aware of the eyes upon him. He wished Alaric hadn't mentioned that they were related. People didn't understand their....ancestry.
" Ah, Alaric, it's been a while." The two monarchs stood looking at each other for a few moments, then laughed and embraced in a bear-hug.
" Yeah, Ric, it's been too long. The League must be keeping you busy."
" As if you didn't know, Alaric. Yes, the Space League is quite an undertaking. So, who is this?"
Johnny bowed, and introduced himself. Afterwards, at the bar, the three conversed in low tones, seeming to come to some sort of agreement. Alaric broke away, followed by two of the Brujah. The others remained positioned about the room.
He headed straight for Matt Scheffert......

"Of course sir. PLease forgive me skitishness at present. This is my first ball and I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Hopefully no such attempts are made during next weeks festivities in Aronica. We would be honored if you had the chance to visit our fair jungle capital. There may be many things going on that would interest you."

" Mr. Scheffert, I don't have much time, but I want you to know that I am going to send my kinsman, King Ricala, to Heroin's dinner party in a few days. He will outline to you my thoughts on a mutual agreement between our nations." Alaric stuck out his hand and shook Scheffert's. " My apologies for this evenings' unfortunate incident. Rest assured, neither I nor any nation here had anyting to do with 'setting me up'. The Daikonian simply took it upon himself to view it as a 'test' based on orders from his superiors. Xeraph doesn't indiscriminately spill blood. Good meeting you. Take care."
The Xeraphian Emperor spoke a word to Ricala, then headed towards the door, followed by the Brujah. In an instant, they were gone........

bump

And in yet another limo parked outside, the sixteen year old leader of Anacasta was arguing furiously with one of her aides, an older, silver-haired woman by the name of Robin.

"Would you stop!" the young woman barked, as she flailed her hands in front of herself to fend off the thin hands of the other woman, who had been plucking at and fussing over her dress for the past ten minutes. "Robin, I command you to stop! You're going to make me late!"

"But, my Lady, your dress," the thin woman replied, her tone distressed, much like a bride who discovers her ring bearer has shorn her hair into a mohawk five minutes before the wedding.

Titania blinked her hazel, kohl-lined eyes and looked down, taking in the corset-styled front, the satin, the lace on the edges of the sleeves and hem of the skirt, the train, and the knee-high boots, freshly shined, but most of all, the overwhelming blackness of it all. The girl blinked again and looked up at Robin, pushing her bleached bangs out of her face. "What's wrong with it?"

The older woman leaned forward and re-arranged Titania's bangs, making sure the rest of the girl's non-bleached hair was secure in its bun. "You look like you're going to a funeral, if I may be so bold, my Lady."

"Why ask," the red-head grumbled, leaning back in an attempt to get Robin's hands away from her bangs. "You'll say it anyway. And for the love of all things holy, stop plucking at me! And hand me Gabriel."

"Yes, my Lady," Robin sighed, in that tone which clearly said This was a mistake. Finding the small shapeshifter, currently in the form of a white cat, she handed him to Titania, whose deep scowl showed that she was not pleased.

"We'll talk about your tone later, Robin," the pale girl informed her as she took Gabriel in her arms, crimson lip-sticked mouth pulling itself into a thin line. Without allowing the other woman to answer, Titania opened the door and stepped out, causing her driver to scramble around to the back to close it after her.

Taking a deep breath, the young ruler set her shoulders and strode toward the doorway, stepping through it as the.. servants? Slaves? Employees? What did they call them here, anyway? The people opened the door for her.

Nodding politely at them, Titania stepped inside and off to the side, out of the way of the more impatient, and somewhat flashier rulers, and stood there, petting Gabriel as she looked around.

So many people... And most of them much older than her. And.. she wrinkled her nose slightly. Was that blood? Naaaah... Shaking her head in amazement, Titania stepped away from the door, her youth and lack of noticeable guards making her look somewhat lost.

(ooc note: Ok, call me paranoid, but I'm worried that my descriptiveness is not the best. Ergo, to both ease my worries, and prevent me from boring you to death with endless description on Titania's clothes and such, I have visual aids.

http://img159.echo.cx/img159/1876/corsetshawl8yb.jpg : This would be Titania. No I was not kidding when I said she was, and looked, sixteen.
http://img147.echo.cx/img147/751/d47sj.gif : This is Titania's dress. Now you know why Robin was pitching a fit.
http://www.gothshop.com/store/solo.pcgi?prod_id=2000046&cat=20 : Aaand Titania's boots. Nifty, huh?

Gabriel doesn't get a picture. Why? I figure everyone knows what a white housecat looks like)

"you and I both my friend..." Michael muttered to Sar, before casting a carefull eye around the other guests, "We do have quite a collection here don't you think..." his eyes drifted to the girl who'd just entered, she looked so...so young...he was twentyone years old and didn't feel ready for this kind of life, it amazed him that somone could start any younger... he shook his head in amazement, she looked a little overwhelmed, "Ariadne, would you-"
"Go talk to her?"
"Right..."
"I'm on my way."
His bodyguard turned and disappeared into the croud walking towards the newcomer, and Michael turned back to Sar with a tight grin on his face,
"You know, I'm sure I saw a waiter over there with glasses of champaigne, and I think we could both use a drink right now. You want one?"
______________________

Ariadne moved across the ballroom smoothly, PVC suit reflecting light like oil on water as she approached the girl, as she cme to stand next to her she spoke with a smile,
"I take it you've never been to one of these things before?"

Johnny glanced at his watch and excused himself from the bar, apologizing to Ricala. "I'll be right back, sir. I have to meet somebody." He walked out of the room and out to the driveway. No sooner had he exited the door than a 1939 Silver Ghost pulled up to the steps. He walked around to the door and held it open. Kiki Steele stepped gracefully out of the car and threw herself into Johnny's arms. He set her down, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and led her inside. Before he entered, he slipped the valet a fifty credit note. He returned his attention to his fiancee, leading her into the ballroom. She was clad in a formal Chinese dress, black with a gold trim, (Even without any Asian heritage, she still made it work) with her short, light brown hair tucked behind her ears. The only other jewelery she wore was an engagement ring on her right ring finger, and a small, gold watch on her left wrist. She surveyed the party with her deep, violet eyes, strolling back to the bar with Johnny. He sat back down next to Ricala. Alaric had returned, so Johnny introduced Kiki to them.

Alaric shimmered into existence once again. " Sorry everybody, but I neglected an important note for Ric." He handed Ricala a small, folded yellow piece of paper, winked slyly, and turned to Johnny and a particularly striking lady at his side.
" Johnny, we'll talk again soon. M'lady, I am most pleased to meet you. You've a good man here. Take care of him."
Alaric was gone, who knows where..............

Titania had somehow managed to drift over near the food, completely on accident, of course. The fact that it was away from where some of the scarier-looking types seemed to be gathered had much to do with this.

When she glanced up to see if the Emperor hosting this event was free yet (which, of course with her luck, he wasn't,) the young redhead noticed a tall woman coming her way. Shifting Gabriel in her arms so he, too, could see the woman, Titania blinked when she noticed the woman's outfit, thinking to herself, If Robin ever complains about my outfits not befitting a ruler again, I'm laughing in her face.

The Morrigan returned the smile she was given, which turned into a light, seemingly carefree laugh as she answered, "That obvious, huh? Wow, I guess I should be glad I didn't decide to be an actress or something - I'd make the director weep!"

Shifting Gabriel to one arm, and ignoring the claws in said arm that said he was not pleased, she held out her hand toward the other woman. "I'm Lady Titania, representative of Anacasta."

Ariadne took the girls hand, "Ariadne, body-guard and personal assistant to President Michael Heroin, and try not to worry, Michael's not exactly a regular at these things either, to be honest I doubt anyone would have noticed except that people tend to turn up at these things with at least some kind of show of force. Some people come with an entire entourage of employees and guards and whatever."

bump

After Alaric had left, Johnny turned to Ricala. "I know it's none of my business, but what was with that wink?" Johnny had an eye for details, and after the battles he had been through, he couldn't help but notice almost every movement nearby. Kiki, in the meantime had positioned herself on his lap and was clinging around his neck. She ruffled his black hair, and cuddled up against him lovingly. Johnny tried not to let her get to him as he talked with Ricala.

bump

(OOC: Somebody want to post something? It'll ge kinda awkward with just me and Xeraph... Either that or I'm the only one on at this time of day...)

bump

After Alaric had left, Johnny turned to Ricala. "I know it's none of my business, but what was with that wink?" Johnny had an eye for details, and after the battles he had been through, he couldn't help but notice almost every movement nearby. Kiki, in the meantime had positioned herself on his lap and was clinging around his neck. She ruffled his black hair, and cuddled up against him lovingly. Johnny tried not to let her get to him as he talked with Ricala.


Johnny's observance of the exchange between him and Alaric, and the gorgeous brunette squirming in Johnny's lap left Ric a bit nonplussed. He debated telling Johnny what the note contained, but then decided to wait until he could talk to Shimoda. It wasn't a big deal......not yet anyway. A list of possible contacts for a possible coalition.
Ric had seen and heard Alaric do a lot of questionable and somewhat outrageous things over the years, but THIS made him begin to question Alaric's stability. Xeraph and it's allies were big, but this........
Despite his effort to appear nonchalant, Johnny knew something was up.
" Johnny, my complements on your attention to detail. All I can say at this time is that, should conditions warrant, I'll let you in on plan that, if implemented, will cause the entire NS world to sit up and take notice."
There, let him chew on that for awhile...........

Johnny took Ricala's comment in stride, not even a look of puzzlement on his face. Kiki hopped off his lap and made her way over to the punchbowl, leaving Johnny and Ricala to converse in private. "Ricala, have you ever heard of Gatesville? It is the largest player-created region, and they have a plan to overthrow the UN. One of the few regions that stood in it's way the first time they tried to start a coup was mine. One of the biggest things to go down was the defense of the United Nations. Well, our founder's and my nations held some clever negotiations with Gatesville and ended up with a treaty. They don't try to destroy our region, we don't bring up propaganda against them. Imagine Gatesville, 698 nations strong at the time, compared to our 57 nations, and they can't do a damned thing to us. Things like that don't happen very often. I've been in on some really big things. Alaric's plan can't be as big as Sonic Hero Land vs. Gatesville." Johnny finished talking and turned to the bartender, asking for a bottle of Russian Vodka. The bartender delivered and Johnny poured a glass for himself and for Ricala. "Eh, whatever. We'll see what happens when this unfolds." He raised his glass and downed it, completely unfazed.

bump