NationStates Jolt Archive

Aboard the Goodship Intoxication, approaching Mordor

Shagrat Jones looked at the datapad in front of him. It was not anything important - a list of Allanean employees allowed permanent worker visas to work in the 150 first branches that the Cute Bunny Corporation was opening up along the shore of LSR. The seaports would be peppered with the Golden Bunny logos, and Allaneans visiting the country – of which there were suspiciously more then you would expect – due to the various intergovernmental projects that were now being discussed – though nothing was approved yet.

Happily, Allanea had no employment regulations – you could employ any adult person you wanted for any job you wanted. So there were no quotas to prevent CBBC from hiring an orc to go to Mordor. They hoped Shagrat Jones would be best to do the job.

He sure did hope they were right.

In the Allanean Embassy to Mordor

The Allanean ambassador rose from his seat, smiling. He knew now what he had to do, and he was ready to do it. He turned to his secretary, and began dictating – a letter addressed to whatever relevant authority there was on this issue, in Mordor.

“Dear Sir!

Would it be possible to meet any of your representatives regarding continued Allanean-Mordor cooperation? I am suggesting negotiations on the following issues:

1. Joint biological warfare developments, especially spirochaetum encaustum and similar research. We would be happy to learn from your great experts.
2. Intelligence cooperation on the PIVO model, as well as training in espionage and intelligence techniques.
3. Continued exchange of spacecraft and armament designs."


Allanean ambassador to Mordor.”

Your average seaport in the accursed realm is the archetypal wretched hive of scum and villainy. Rough, seedy, each one with an attendant underworld of bars, brothels and casinos, they are also the centre of the nation's commerce. The myriad products of the guild factories of Lithlad and Gorgoroth's industrial quarter spill out into the common market from their harbours while goods from around the world flow in. They are the haunts of pirates and drugrunners, rogues and villains--anyone can find a hole to hide in so long as he's willing to pay his tribute.

The legions of the Dark Lord stick to their own places, for here is one of few regions where many foreigners can be found; the set-up being a little different than elsewhere. The only law being the law of the great uruks and their eyeless captains, who roam the filthy streets arbitrarily extracting taxes from the cities' denizens.

In short, these coastal sprawls were the perfect places for the Bunny Burger franchise to thrive, and had sprung up like weeds throughout the docklands Mr. Jones' vessel was soon to pull into.

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“Dear Sir!

Would it be possible to meet any of your representatives regarding continued Allanean-Mordor cooperation? I am suggesting negotiations on the following issues:

1. Joint biological warfare developments, especially spirochaetum encaustum and similar research. We would be happy to learn from your great experts.
2. Intelligence cooperation on the PIVO model, as well as training in espionage and intelligence techniques.
3. Continued exchange of spacecraft and armament designs."


Allanean ambassador to Mordor.”

Lord Angórë could but grimace as he read the correspondence. Another meeting with the Allaneans. Their hearts certainly seemed to be in the right place, but they had little sense of protocol--or respect. There had been whispers throughout Gorgoroth that he had nearly slain the first emissary to have come before him off that little seaplane all those months ago, dressed as a character from some sci-fi programme, on general principle.

Yet His Lordship saw use in them, and it was not Angórë's place--not anybody's--to question Him.



Honourable ambassador from Allanea,

I would consider it a privilege to confer personally with you regarding these proposals. I will arrange for a meeting between us at the embassy in Gorgoroth at the earliest possible convenience.

Angórë

Ambassador L. D. Smith smiled as he read the message. He has been only recently appointed, and compared to the previous fellow he was rather mild – although his clothing was not exactly what you would call mild. Especially not his hair. But still he wore a three-piece suit most of the time, which was an achievement with Allanean diplomats.

And so, two days after that, L. D. Smith was on his warbike and away to the meeting spot, his black leather suit – a variant on the generic diplomatic suit, made of leather – flapping in the wind, and a black suitcase at his side.

This was going to be pretty interesting.