NationStates Jolt Archive

STATEMENT OF HM GOVERNMENT
http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/questers.jpg
AS OF 10th March 2006, Her Majesty's Government has invited representatives from MassPwnage, Doomingsland, and Praetonia to London, the capital of the United Kingdom, for talks on the Vizion situation.

Your bookings are in the Hotel Royale, Diplomatic Suites 412, 413, and 414 respectively. We hope you will find this five star hotel good enough for your needs. The talks begin in 4 days, so you will have time to get used to our capital.

Enclosed are directions to the Hotel Royale from Heathrow airport.

Thank you,
Signed Foreign Minister Sir John Deltborough

[OOC: A good excuse for me to RP out my capital, also, ifyou want some descriptions or need questions answering i'm on MSN and IRC.]

En Route to London

Ambassador Junius Valerius was a seasoned diplomat by any standards, and was universaly considered quite good at his trade. Something rather unusual given Doomingsland's rather poor diplomatic track record. His career wasn't particularly exciting, for the Empire had often shown that it had little use for diplomatic endings to conflicts, instead prefering the sheer might of her military in the protection and expasion of Imperial interests.

The situation regarding the ViZionarian War was a seemingly unique one in the history of the Empire. Here you had a seemingly simple situation: a friendly dictatorship is threatened by a meddling heathen Congress. The Empire sends aid in the form of a legion, and subsequently defeats a combined Praetonian and Questerian army, seemingly securing victory.

However, when one looks more strategically on the situation, it becomes apparent that all is not as simple as it seems. The Praetonian and Questerian navies were unarguably superb fighting forces, easily capable of matching what the Empire could throw at them. With these two sending vast fleets to ViZion and the Empire sending more and more men to secure her foothold within ViZion, it becomes obvious that a conflict of epic proporsions was brewing.

Now, normally the High Command would relish such an opportunity for glorious battle. Then comes the scetchier part. The Praetonians, Doomingslandians, Questerians, and Pwnage find common ground for a treaty that would benefit both parties tremendously (I could tell you what the arrangements right off the bat, but that would spoil my fun). That is where Valerius comes in. Working with the other three to make this treaty happen.

He slept most of the flight down to London. He had gotten used to sleeping on aircraft, as it was nessessary for a man in his buisiness. Not that he minded. The Imperial VIP aircraft were quite comfortable. As he slumbered aboard the sleek, fast moving VTOL aircraft, a voice came on the intercom,

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are begining our final decent into Heathrow, please put all trays and seats in the upright position and fasten your seatbelts," came the voice of the aircraft's captain.

Stirring awake, Valerius stretched and yawned, propping his seat up as he was instructed. He was wide awake within seconds, a trait that had served him well in the past. He rolled up the shades of his window and looked out at the city below.

He was immediately impressed with the grandeous architechture of London. Architectural beauty was something Doomingslanders easily recognized, and this place had plenty of it. Valerius smiled to himself. At least it wasn't some backwater pagan shithole.

"Heh. He arrived just before us. How many minutes?" Thin, tanned fingers twirled an expensive pen about with incredible dexterity and ease. A lean, dark face with intense, focused eyes and a neatly trimmed black goatee stared at the ceiling of the passenger compartment, contemplating something.

"5, sir, 5 minutes." answered his colleague, a young woman in plastic rimmed glasses and long brown hair tied in braids that fell to her waist, the occasional bead or strange ornament was scattered in there, which contrasted rather sharply with her expensively tailored business suit.

The man glanced at the watch on his wrist then to the woman.

"Ailis, the Doomish always arrive early, so we are on time then. They have the hotel rooms booked. We appear to be disturbingly close each other."

"Of course we're close to each other Farroq, obviously whoever planned this conference wanted to prevent us from throwing wild parties into the dead of the night. We're right next to fucking Praetonians for fuck's sake."

The plane, a small corporate craft painted in the black and red of MassPwnage, touched down gingerly on the Questarian runway. A few minutes before that, a vanguard of four Pwnage fighter escorts had touched down, but they would be leaving Questarian territory as a sign of good faith.

"So anyway Farroq, what are we going to do with our security detail?" Ailis was browsing the hotel's website on her PDA. Room 412 looked amazingly cramped, two beds and a single bath.

"I for one, do not have any idea. Maybe the room is at least a deluxe room or something. But all the rooms have are two beds and a sofa..... Ah damnit. The Hotel Royale has more than 110 stories, and we're on the 4th floor, the Questarians sure know how to treat their guests."

"Right then. Ailis, book the entire top floor of the Hotel Royale, would you?"

"Farroq, we don't make that much money."

"Can't we dip into the Foreign Affairs slush fund?"

"For this kind of extravagance? Hell no? They're barely paying our salaries as it is."

"Damn... well, just rent out room 410 and 512 so that our bodyguards can have a place to stay."

"Alright then."

The plane's engines shut off and the two diplomats disembarked, followed by 5 rifle toting soldiers in black and red battle armor. Unfortunately, they found no car waiting to whisk them away. A few hundred meters away, they spotted the Doomish diplomat, looking just as confused. The Pwnage delegates waved to their counterparts and made their way towards them.

In the conversation that ensued, there was a great deal of confused shrugging between the two parties. It looked like they would have to find their own transportation, and probably pass through Questarian security....

Eh, things could be worse, thought Farroq as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed his superiors.

[OOC: This is using fluid time, so this whole conference is before the Czardas thing.]

Lord Darwold, on his first foreign assignment since his promotion to the cabinet position of Foreign Secretary, trotted neatly at the head of a troop of six Horse Guards. Their buckles were shiny, their brass helmets burnished to show off their intricate mottifs and their swords glittered in the sun. It was just a show for the Questerian people who, apparently, liked such displays of pomp and ceremony. The men, although better trained even than the average Praetonian squaddie, were not there to do any serious guard duty.

Flying horses by plane into a foreign country was an interesting experience, but one that His Lordship has experienced several times before flying the numerous racehorses he owned around the world for various events and competitions. They reached the hotel foyer, the Horse Guards jumped down from their mounts and handed the reigns to the footmen, and then made their way to their rooms. His Lordship spent some time in his room arranging files and making notes, whilst the guards stood outside. Finally, they set off fore the conference.

[OOC: Ok this is a crap post but it's late and I'm tired.]

OOC:Could I Rp a reporter?