NationStates Jolt Archive

In Attendance: Psov
(Any who wish to join, reply that you do and we will invite you in if you're cool enough)

This is the official notice, Psov: RP your arrival!

The Pain was excruciating, like thousands of blades running through every fiber of his being. He had never sustained such physical strain, where was the absolution? He cried out, but the pain was relentless. Finally and abruptly the pain subsided, it was done. “Sir? Mr. Adams?” he looked up at his attendant holding the tweezers which was clutching the odious splinter. The Ambassador shooed away the attendant and clutched his throbbing leg.
He had always despised flying, it terrified him, not to mention all the potential dangers involved in air travel. As a matter of fact, travel in general was troublesome to him. The plane began to tremble, meaning it had begun its descent. He braced himself with both arms on either side of him as the plane began to toss around its contents. The landing was just as terrifyingly unpredictable as ever, the plane set down and rolled for a few yards then stopped. Hands tremulous the Ambassador released his iron grip on the armrests and unfastened his seatbelt. His attendant rushed to his side and helped him out of his seat, “we’re late sir,”
The Ambassador nodded and followed his attendant, behind him followed his Department head, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Alexander William Rogers, and various dignitaries who were part of his entourage. Waiting for them on the landing strip were an assembly of Psovian Foreign Legionnaires from the Embassy, and also an attendant dressed in attire characteristic of their host. Alex quickly strode to the head of the procession and enthusiastically shook hands with the foreigner, Adams kept his distance, allowing the Foreign Minister to do the talking for this leg of the trip. "So," Rogers ventured "Where's the party?"

OOC: What is this exactly?

OOC: What is this exactly?
OOC: Party/Conference in warmaster

OOC: For what purpose?

"The party, my good man, is in the Imperial Palace." The attendant pointed to a titanic structure visible above the many temples of the Sacred Precinct. "I would be happy to take you there. If you would follow me to this helicopter, please." He led the delegation to a few helicopters, which they boarded, and were flown in several minutes to one of the diplomatic helipads on the Palace. The attendant led them through cavernous halls and winding passages, until finally they reached the conference room. A large oval table dominated the room, with Sacred Emperor Lucifer himself, dressed in his ceremonial armor and wearing the Iron Crown, sitting at the part farthest from the door. "Come in, gentlemen," Lucifer said, gesturing for them to sit down. "I don't think I need mention the several dozen elite soldiers in here with me..." he pointed to a double row of the Imperial Immortals, clutching their assault rifles "so lets keep this clean. Firstly, I would like to discuss the possibility of nuclear trade between our great nations."

Rogers face lit up with a familiarly insincere smile," nuclear trade? Let's burn that bridge when we come to it." Adams took a seat directly across from the Sacred Emperor, keeping a fair distance from the rather daunting presense of
the Ruler, whom he had never felt comfortable in close proximity with. While Rogers strode politely up to the Emperor and shook hands enthusiastically, taking a seat to his left. "Now let's have something to drink why don't we! Bring me a Cognac, VSOP, what about you Adams?" Alex for the first time Acknowledged the Ambassadors presense, i'll take a vodka martini. An attendant rushed off with a tray to fetch their beverages. Alex flashed a smile again, "So Gentlemen with that out of the way let's get down to bussiness, you mentioned Nuclear Trade, exactly what did you have in mind your excellency?"

“Well, perhaps I have made a mistake in mentioning an irrelevant topic. I meant to imply that we should begin talks about exchanging nuclear technology and weaponry. Incidentally,” he said as he pushed a button on his chair. A servant rushed in and showed Lucifer a menu. Perusing it, he continued his sentence. “If it is acceptable to your nation, I propose that I build a laboratory in your nation dedicated to chemical research, and cordially invite you to do the same. And by the way, I would like four fingers of the Macallan Single-malt Whiskey, immediately.” The servant scurried off to do his master’s bidding. “I also invite you to construct a military base in our territory, on the condition that I may construct a base in your nation as well.”

((OOC: Let me in on this. I'll bring beer.))

OOC: sure, but no american piss ok?

OOC: sure, but no american piss ok?

((OOC: Does Samuel Jackson brand work? "It'll get ya drunk!))

Emperor Antonius snored loudly as he reclined in the comfortable leather seats of the Imperial diplomatic aircraft. A motley assortment of diplomatic attachés and military officials were scattered throughout the plane, passing the time in various ways as the four hour trip to the capital city of the Warmaster drew to a close.

Lord Varus smothered the smoldering end of a long cigarette in an ashtray on the table before him. Looking out the window, he could glimpse the spires and skyscrapers of their destination. He rose and walked over to where the Emperor was seated, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Antonius started awake, and went for his saber, remembering at the last minute that he had stowed it in the overhead luggage compartment.

"Your grace, we're nearly there."

Antonius muttered something unintelligible, and reached for the half empty bottle of vodka on the seat next to him.

The plane rolled to a halt and the gangway fell to the tarmac below. Flanked by elements of the Imperial Praetorian White Guard, Antonius and a few others of notable importance stepped out of the aircraft.

((OOC: Does Samuel Jackson brand work? "It'll get ya drunk!))

OOC: lol that episode rocked

Alex blinked twice, suddenly dropping his pretentious diplomatic attitude, forgetting to mask his heavy French accent "wait, wait, hold on there, to many topics you are talking of at once, let us talk more of this laboratory," his smile had vanished with his friendly demeanor. "A laboratory on Psovian soil this we would not be so happy with, we do not wish to have testing done on Psovian land, we would much prefer to have testing done elsewhere, unless the testing were supervised by Psovian scientists. Though we would haven't any problem with Warmaster scientists and Psovian scientists doing working together on Warmster soil." He blinked twice again before continuing, "On the subject of a Warmster base on Psovian land -"
Adams interrupted "The Construction of a foreign base can only be approved through the Minister of War, you would have to purchase Psovian land with his approval, and bases on Psovian soil are subject to inspections and strict guidelines." Alex took back the conversation "Why not we discuss the Executive Assembly, the Monarch is displeased with it's sluggish growth, he wants to revoke Psovian signature on Pact of Mutual Protection, what has the Emperor to say for the lax in progress?"

As Antonius and his retinue disembarked, a helicopter landed a short distance away. A man dressed in an Imperial Supreme General's dress uniform jumped out, followed by a squad of Immortals who immediately flanked him in honor-guard formation. He called out, "Welcome, Emperor Antonius, your Grace! Please, if you would follow me, the Palace is a short helicopter ride away!" Waving another two helicopters down, he got back into his and waited until everyone was on one, and they lifted off and flew toward the Palace. En route the man introduced himself to Antonius as Lord Regent Seth Jamaane, second-in-command to Emperor Lucifer himself. Once they were there, Seth led them to a rail car, which had been installed for quick transit between the helipads and the conference rooms. After a short ride, the whole party got out and Seth led them into the conference room just as the Psovian delegation finished its demand about the Executive Assembly.

OOC: Post 150!

IC: Lucifer greeted the Generian delegation warmly and sent a servant to fetch three bottles of Black Death vodka for Emperor Antonius. He then turned to the Psovians and replied. "The Executive Assembly for Nationalistic Imperialists, or EANI, is unfortunately foundering with a lack of unity. Although several very influential nations have joined, we have undertaken no official actions as yet, and this saddens me. It is my belief that we should simply let this incarnation of the alliance fade while remembering the nations that joined, and contact them once more when the time is right to bring back the Executive Assembly. Unless drastic action is taken soon, the Assembly will fail anyway. I will be taking a vacation in a few days, so I am afraid the Imperium will be unable to participate anyway."

Rogers raised his eyebrows, "Would the MPP still apply while the Alliance is dormant?"

Lucifer sipped his drink as he pondered the question. "Of course, Psov and the Empire already have a mutual protection pact. On the other hand, not all in my alliance are particularly close to me. But my thoughts would be no, the pact would not apply without the alliance."

Antonius accepted the bottle of Black Death with great speed and gusto, and took a seat at the table.

"I never cared for those formal alliance pacts. Too unwieldly."

Rogers flashed a disingenuous smile at Atonious,
"I never much cared for Generians," He took a sip of his neglected glass of Cognac,
"too pompous."

Lucifer quickly motioned with his hand and a pair of the Immortals interposed themselves between the Generians and the Psovians, guns at the ready. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, no need for any petty disputes! For good or ill, the Executive Assembly is defunct. That is that. Now, I see your point of view about constructing a laboratory on Psovian soil, so it shall be as you say. You will have a laboratory, and the proper officials will contact you when the time is right."

"Emperor Antonius," Lucifer continued, draining his whiskey and gesturing for another, "I have had an interesting idea that I believe you will like. A Battle of the Bands between our most renowned rock group and one of your own choosing. Psovians may enter too, I suppose," he added as an afterthought. "And to all gentlemen here, I propose the production of a new weapon." He pushed a button on his chair and a screen slid down from the ceiling and designs for a tank appeared on it. "We have produced the T-120 Ravager MBT for a while now. It can carry eight men into battle. Its task as a heavy tank is to secure urban zones through the use of its anti-infantry chainguns and its main gun, then deploy its soldiers to sweep the area. Of course it is not limited to urban combat; that is simply its area of excellence. Any offers for a shipment of these exceptional weapons?"

OOC: you sanctimonious bastard, the battle was completely my idea...
Afterthought my ass.

IC:

Rogers shifted in his chair "An excellent proposal, though we insist it be held on Psovian soil. As for the subject of the trading of the Main Battle Tanks, we would prefer for that transaction to take place at a later time.

"I understand your concerns. The battle can of course be held on Psovian soil, that is if Emperor Antonius agrees. About the MBT's, you are right. I merely wished to present the general idea. My Ministry of War will contact both your supreme commanders with details, and you can decide whether you wish to purchase them. We are considering offering it for sale on the open market but we will contact you first."

"Well, I was thinking of something similar, although on a more epic scale. It has long been my dream to hold the first annual Monsters of Rock festival in Generia City. Think about it. The greatest rock bands in the world gathering in the iron heart of Generia to play for millions. The profits from such a landmark event would be tremendous. Why not simply send your best bands to do battle there?"

Lucifer grinned at the thought. "An excellent idea, my friend. I happen to be a great Velvet Revolver fan, myself, and I know you are as well. We should do that sometime. By the way, I know you specialize in training generals skilled in commanding infantry. I request that you build an academy on your territory for the use of both our great nations, to form a tactical lead over the rest of the world."

Decending at nearly the speed of sound head first and plummetting towards the Earth, Emperor Helldawg V tried to recollect how he'd gotten into this mess.

Oh yeah...forgot the parachute...

He'd been drinking while aboard the Imperial diplomatic transport, and a sudden jolt of turbulence convinced him he was under attack by the Sarzonians, or Dracuns, or other annoying democratic countries stupid enough to do that. In his haste to decend, he'd kicked down the door to the cabin and was sucked out into the air, along with several servants (whom he wouldn't really miss). Now he plummeted towards the structure below, head first. He watched as the ground got closer and closer, the building below him bigger and bigger, until finally...

CRUNCH

Suddenly, a section of the conference room's cieling fell in, and the Emperor fell flat on his face. Picking himself up and wiping the dust off of his still imaculately polished armor, he glanced guiltily at the men around him, who by now were staring at him with unsurprised looks.

"What?"