NationStates Jolt Archive

Dear Sir/Madam

It is my grim duty to inform you of the passing of Professor Michael James Walter. It was his final request that the Who Gives a Damn About Human Rights Club, reform upon the event of Professor Walter’s funeral. Details regarding the funeral are attached. Friends of the Professor who are not members of the club may be in attendance.

From Armitage Grahig
Legal Undertaker

Lady Eleanor was in all glamour, with one exception, she was being made to wait outside the Professor’s Parthian Mansion. “I’m sorry ma-am,” said the doorman, bored of repeating himself, “But the Mr Grahig was quite clear. None of the guests are allowed to enter until everyone on my list is here.”
“What unusual instructions,” commented Lady Eleanor, stroking her white tiger shawl, “What if one of the guests never arrives?”
“That means you will be waiting outside for a very long time ma-am,” said the mildly frustrated doorman, “But considering that the Professor had a great deal of wealth, which shall be spread around I doubt anyone is going to miss out on their share.”
“I suppose,” grumbled Lady Eleanor.
“And my I just add ma-am, if you hadn’t showed up an hour early you wouldn’t have to wait out side,” said the doorman.
That comment nearly saw the doorman belted with Lady Eleanor’s panda fur handbag. However she managed to resist the temptation, and instead stormed back to her waiting limousine, where she refined her list of people to kill as she waited for the other guests to arrive.

OOC: I realize this is a bit of a weird start, however it will return to the normal shooban massacring quickly.

A rather haggard looking man who looked as if he had not seen the business end of either a shower head or a razor for three weeks stumbled up to the front of the mansion, a bottle of Black Death Vodka in his hand. Jabbing wildly at the doorman, he began muttering.

"I'm Em-emperor...Antoni..us of the the the Generic Empire. Lemme in!"

The Shah's personal helicopter touched down on the driveway of the estate, kicking up dust for a second as the rotors hummed to a stop. Exiting from the vehicle as the rotors settled, two Immortals hopped down and prepared their weapons. The Shah followed, dressed casually, but still formally in some respects with his jeans and button down silk shirt. Following him, a servant with an angled umbrella designed to cover the Shah walked, sheilding him from the Persian sun.

The doorman looked at Emperor Antonius, completely unaware who he really was. “Please do not commit vagrancy here sir,” said the doorman, who proceeded to grab the vodka bottle and try to pull it out of the Emperor’s hands, “If you do not leave, I shall have the dogs set on you.”

Lady Eleanor meanwhile had spotted the Shah’s helicopter. She quickly dropped her list, fine tuned her make up, straightened her white tiger shawl, let her driver open her door, and walked over to the Shah. “Good sir” began the Lady, “Am I correct in identifying you as the Shah Khosru of Parthia?

As the Shah walked into the building and the helicopters crew got started on the repairs, a flash of lightning appeared and, out of the blue, a man wearing a Toga appeared where the lightning hit the ground. He surveyed the surroundings, and then let out a great laugh. "Ah yes, back to the world of the mortals!" he exclaimed as he walked over to help repair the Shah's helicopter(which he did with godly speed and skill). When he had finished he walked up to the doorman.

"Why hello, my good sir. May I come in?" he asked. As if it were an afterthought, he quickly added, "And would you like some Cheetos?"

OOC: Just so you know, Steve supposedly died a while ago, and now my nation is supposed to be a happy yay-for-you democracy-caliphate-technocracy. So Steve is acting on his own accord.

Of course, now that he's a god, he has some followers of is own...

Mainly Chester the Cheetah.

"And you would be Steve?" asked the door man, still trying to wrestle the vodka bottle off Emperor Antonius, "Do you mind helping me deal with this vagrant?"

Emperor Anastasio VI elegantly glided over to the others, his massive cape billowing in the wind. He drew his sword. "Vagrant, pray recant, lest I sliceth thee down with thy holy blade!"

Karl von Esling arrived, driving a Harley-Davidson motorbike and stopping off to the side before walking in and saying, "Good day, one and all....it has been a long time since I have seen you all. I am sorry about Walter."

Karl von Esling arrived, driving a Harley-Davidson motorbike and stopping off to the side before walking in and saying, "Good day, one and all....it has been a long time since I have seen you all. I am sorry about Walter."

The Emperor brandished his sword, brushed the blade against Karl's neck. "You Godless heathen, I heard you are a defender of the abominable immorality that is anime!"

The Emperor brandished his sword, brushed the blade against Karl's neck. "You Godless heathen, I heard you are a defender of the abominable immorality that is anime!"

OOC: This is the Real ALM, in another guise.

IC:

Karl laughed, and said, "Another Puritan? The Fabuses were enough! I know every line in the book, you know.....so nothing fazes me."

He then jumped back, and did a roll, before pulling out a katana.

"I will have you know, Herr Anastasio, that I was a Stasi.....one of the worst of the worst......so I can get awfully creative if you decide to push this."

Karl then said, smiling but still keeping his guard: "But I don't feel like it now. This is a club, not a fighting arena. So why don't we play nice, and put down the swords? Besides, we've got Shoobans we can cut up."

OOC: This is the Real ALM, in another guise.

IC:

Karl laughed, and said, "Another Puritan? The Fabuses were enough! I know every line in the book, you know.....so nothing fazes me."

He then jumped back, and did a roll, before pulling out a katana.

"I will have you know, Herr Anastasio, that I was a Stasi.....one of the worst of the worst......so I can get awfully creative if you decide to push this."

Karl then said, smiling but still keeping his guard: "But I don't feel like it now. This is a club, not a fighting arena. So why don't we play nice, and put down the swords? Besides, we've got Shoobans we can cut up."

{OOC: I know. Check TGs shortly.}

IC:

The Emperor bowed his head in shame, reluctantly sheathed his blade. "You are correct, Herr Karl," he said. "Though I personally detest anime, I can do nothing to prevent it being watched abroad, and I would be foolish to try." He smiled. "Cut up Shoobans, eh? I have never done that before, mostly, I've just used them as slaves. I've never killed them for sport, but...well, there's a first time for everything!"

{OOC: I know. Check TGs shortly.}

IC:

The Emperor bowed his head in shame, reluctantly sheathed his blade. "You are correct, Herr Karl," he said. "Though I personally detest anime, I can do nothing to prevent it being watched abroad, and I would be foolish to try." He smiled. "Cut up Shoobans, eh? I have never done that before, mostly, I've just used them as slaves. I've never killed them for sport, but...well, there's a first time for everything!"

Karl said, sheathing his sword as well, "Indeed. Shooban hunting is actually quite fun; I personally use firearms, but swords would be a neat change of pace. I personally don't like Shooban helpers; I once asked them to get me a steak, the little fool got me a plate of bullplop. The nerve! I taught him a lesson, I tell you what."

Karl said, sheathing his sword as well, "Indeed. Shooban hunting is actually quite fun; I personally use firearms, but swords would be a neat change of pace. I personally don't like Shooban helpers; I once asked them to get me a steak, the little fool got me a plate of bullplop. The nerve! I taught him a lesson, I tell you what."

"It just so happens that I not only brought some Shoobans with me, but also some Turtas," the Emperor said. "I would be honored if we could hunt them together."

"It just so happens that I not only brought some Shoobans with me, but also some Turtas," the Emperor said. "I would be honored if we could hunt them together."

Karl said, "Now that's my style. Sure, I suppose we could do some hunting."

He then, with glee, got a golf bag with hunting gear out from the back of his Harley. The bag had a Sako 75 Synthetic Stock in .30-06 Springfield, a WWII era BAR, a Luger, an S&W 500 magnum, and a Ruger Mini-30.

Karl then said, shouldering the bag, "My modest collection, not to brag of course. I rarely hunt using any military arms but that BAR, I feel it ruins the fun of the hunt. So, do you have anything? I could lend something to you, if you wish."

Karl said, "Now that's my style. Sure, I suppose we could do some hunting."

He then, with glee, got a golf bag with hunting gear out from the back of his Harley. The bag had a Sako 75 Synthetic Stock in .30-06 Springfield, a WWII era BAR, a Luger, an S&W 500 magnum, and a Ruger Mini-30.

Karl then said, shouldering the bag, "My modest collection, not to brag of course. I rarely hunt using any military arms but that BAR, I feel it ruins the fun of the hunt. So, do you have anything? I could lend something to you, if you wish."

"Have you ever heard of Turtas before, Herr Karl?" the Emperor asked.

"Have you ever heard of Turtas before, Herr Karl?" the Emperor asked.

Karl said, "I cannot say I have, not well....news reports from your land have spoken of these peoples, though I have to say, I am in the dark about them."

The Shah simply smiled as he looked out to the cargo helicopter landing to bring him his horses and hunting gear for an inevitable Shooban slaying match.

The Shah simply smiled as he looked out to the cargo helicopter landing to bring him his horses and hunting gear for an inevitable Shooban slaying match.

Karl saw the Shah, and said, bowing, "Shah Kohsru! Your Highness, it has been a while since the last Shooban hunt, no?"

All be it rather late, another limousine pulled up in front of the mansion. The driver then got out and opened the back door. First emerged a middle aged lady in a long cream cocktail dress, with a head of long bottle blond hair. She was followed, by a balding man of about her age with graying ginger side burns, and a very normal suit.

Lady Eleanor recognized them, but was more concerned about the rifles on their backs. “Doctor Buchanan, why are you and your wife bringing rifles to a funeral?” she asked, straightening her koala fur hat.
“To hunt southerners, good Lady Eleanor. That is what the Club is all about,” said Doctor Paul Buchanan.
“Shoobans dear, not southerners, Shoobans,” corrected his wife, Doctor Samantha Buchanan.

The doorman, stopped trying to wrestled the vodka bottle away from Emperor Antonius, after noticing the very late Buchanans’ arrival. “Everyone is present,” said the doorman, “You may now enter. Go straight down the hall and into the main chamber. Mr Grahig will be waiting for you in there.”

The Doctor Buchanan’s went in first, straight after the door was opened, down the long corridor. And at the very end they could see the Professor lying quietly in his coffin, Armitrage Grahig looking over the body. As soon as they entered the main chamber, a butler read their names of the list as to announce their arrival, “Doctor and Doctor Buchanan.”

Lady Eleanor, was certainly did not want to be last it, but to go in alone would be offensive, “Shah Khosru, will you be so gentlemanly enough to escort me.”

She held out her hand to the Shah, and a gave a quaint smile.

OOC: When you enter the chamber, just RP having your name called out.

Karl heard his name being called, so he went into the chamber with the coffin.

He approached it, and bowed. He then knelt and prayed for a few moments before leaving to let others pay their respects.

Karl said, "I cannot say I have, not well....news reports from your land have spoken of these peoples, though I have to say, I am in the dark about them."

"Turtas look just like humans, except they have very little hair, about as much as a baby. Their heads are shaped sort of like Yoda's. They have squinty eyes and high-pitched laughs. None of them wear shirts. The only thing they wear are gray sweatpants, which they're born with. If you remove the sweatpants, they die. Males and females look exactly the same. The only difference is that females have slightly hairier nostrils and more lopsided ears. They mate by rubbing their ears together, and the female gives birth orally."

The Shah simply smiled as he looked out to the cargo helicopter landing to bring him his horses and hunting gear for an inevitable Shooban slaying match.

"Ah, I heard Shooban hunting is a grand pasttime. I believe I heard correctly," the Emperor said. "I cannot wait to give it a try, my friend!"

All of a sudden, there was a flash, and Steve was in the kitchen.

"Meow Meow Secret Mission Meow Meow," he exclaimed and then ran off to meet the other guests.

All of a sudden, there was a flash, and Steve was in the kitchen.

"Meow Meow Secret Mission Meow Meow," he exclaimed and then ran off to meet the other guests.

The Emperor stood there, his face bemused, perplexed, and baffled.

Upon recieving the invitation, late, Chairman Murdock returned to his residence in the middle of a hunting trip and prepared to leave, grabbing his M-21 and The Deal Closer he boarded his personal Comanche and began the trip to Farmina. Upon arrival the Comanche landed far enough from the service to not be disruptive, out of respect for the deceased. He walked up to the service, The Deal Closer concealed in his suit. He stepped to the back of the line waiting for his chance to pay his respects, and tried to look inconspicuous as he knew he was very late.

The Emperor stood there, his face bemused, perplexed, and baffled.

"Here," said Steve as he handed the Emperor a Toga.

"Here," said Steve as he handed the Emperor a Toga.

{OOC: What is a Toga? Check TGs, please.}

Armitage Grahig looked at the gathered crowd. He knew that despite being informed of everyone’s presence, there were several missing notables, including Jamie Palmer, and Professor Walter’s most famous student, the Emperor Justinian.

“Could everyone please gather in silence?” he asked, “I must get through the formalities very quickly as I have other funerals to document, and why have so many people brought guns?”

“We’re going to hunt southerners,” beamed Dr Paul Buchanan.
“Shoobans dear, we are going to hunt shoobans,” again corrected Dr Samantha Buchanan.
“Of course, my mistake,” responded Dr Paul Buchanan.

“Can we get on with this?” asked Mr Grahig, getting very impatient, and continually checking his watch.

“You can rush a multi-billionaire’s funeral,” warned Paul Buchanan.

“Just watch me” warned Grahig, who then began speaking very fast, “Dearly beloved we are gathered here today to celebrate the life and times of Michael James Walter, frequently known as the Professor. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Husband and father. Blah, blah, blah. Entire family killed earlier in the year. Fabulously wealthy and so on. Exiled from Farmina since the rise of the Moralists. Died in a rock climbing accident in Parthia. Amazing Grace, oh Amazing Grace. Done.”

“I hope you aren’t getting paid much,” hissed Dr Paul Buchanan.

“Just sign here,” said Armitage Grahig, stuffing a series of papers in the Dr Buchanan’s face, to confirm the Professor’s death.

“Whose bright idea was it to make undertakers and lawyers one profession?” muttered Samantha Buchanan.

“Not mine,” responded an angry Grahig, who snatched the papers off Doctor Buchanan, “Since I can’t stay to put the Professor in the hole, when you get around to it, could you please send me some evidence. I need to prove to the authorities that he did get in the ground and that you aren’t keeping the body.”

“Fair enough,” said Dr Samantha Buchanan, who then slapped Armitage Grahig with all her might, “And that’s for the shocking funeral.”

Armitage Grahig looked a little shocked, before grabbing his briefcase and running off to the waiting taxi.

“Goodbye Professor,” said the quiet and sad Doctor Samantha Buchanan.

{OOC: What is a Toga? Check TGs, please.}

OOC: What the guy is wearing is a Toga (http://www.rotarydistrict7150.org/images2001/TogaConf/toga_roman2.gif)

Murdock had been tempted to put a round through Grahig's back for rushing the funeral, one shot was all he needed, but then he'd have to explain it to the authorities, and have to leave the funeral, which he considered highly disrepectful, he made a note that he was to put Grahig on his "List of Possible Targets for Assassination, Dismemberment, or Disappearance (in short the L.O.P.T.F.A.D.O.D.) He released the hand he'd had on The Deal Closer and straightened out his suit.

He walked back to the Comanche and grabbed his M-21, and returned, sensing that a Shooban hunt was afoot, checking his magazines he was pleased, plenty of ammo for a Shooban hunt.

(To no one in particular) "Sort of funny, I get interrupted in the middle of a hunting trip to go Shooban hunting in memory of a friend."

His weapons in clear view now, he made his way to the casket and paid his resepects, then walked away.

"Here," said Steve as he handed the Emperor a Toga.

The Emperor bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Dinner will be served in an hour, in the meantime I have a game we can play," said Paul Buchanan, to the guests in the main room.

He walked over to the wall and flicked a non-descript switch.

This caused a large section of the floor to open revealing two wheels and also a series of bookcases to move to reveal a large glass window.

"The Professor built this before he died, its called the Wheels of Misfortune. You spin the first wheel to select a minority group."

Doctor Buchanan spun the wheel to explain, "And we have Southerners."

"Wow, it really does say southerners," said his wife.

On the otherside of the large glass window, about thirteen southerners fell into what was a room with no exit.

"Then we spin the second wheel to decide what unfortunate things happen to them," he said, spinning the second wheel, "Mustard gas."

The southerners when just trying to stand up after being dropped from the roof, when the pungent gas began to seep into the room. Being heavier than air, it filled the bottom of the room first, causing painful blisters and rashes, the gas rose and rose. It reached their necks then their mouths. Within minutes they were coughing blood and collapsing.

"Well done dear," said his wife, walking over and kissing him.
"Then the room cleans it self, by opening up the floor and pumping everything out," said Paul Buchanan, as he pressed the clean switch, "Who wants the next shot."