NationStates Jolt Archive

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

A nice afternoon breeze flowed through the slightly grayed hair of President Rossland. He sat up on the aft gunnery post of the massive hulking behemoth of steel and traditional known as the Ascendant Justice. Several meters above him, the blue and white Naval Ensign of the Allied Union Navy fluttered in the breeze, flying from the mast of the flagship of the Allied Union Navy. He looked down almost two hundred meters into the churning sea, and felt right at home. The salty smell of the sea, combined with the sound of water rushing by the mile long hull brought his mind back to his days as the commanding officer aboard a battleship of his own. Granted it was a fraction of the size of this monster, but still a proud ship. The V.S.S. (as the old naval designation went) Rapier, BBN-1, the first battleship in the then fledgling Velkyan Navy. She was his steed, and his responsibility. As the youngest captain in Velkyan history at a mere twenty-eight years of age, he led his crew, many of whom not much younger than himself, through many a battle, surviving nearly every major Velkyan conflict until her retirement in 2012.

He felt a pang of nostalgia as he recalled her decommissioning ceremony, where she was awarded the title of Honorary Flagship of the First Battleship Flotilla, an honor that she still carries today. Nowadays, she usually sits in a naval yard near Vladistock, mothballed until her country requires her services once more. Climbing back out of his dream, Rossland smiled into the wind and proudly recited the slogan of his ship.

"They haven't got a chance in hell!"

To the port side of the ship, another massive vessel could be seen racing alongside at a brisk pace of twenty four knots. The Generian Hood class battleship Thor's Kick Ass Ship was steaming alongside, a gesture of goodwill from the Empire. That had given the Navy many a headache, Rossland laughed to himself. The sound of a door opening behind him startled the President, and he turned on his heel. An older but pretty woman in an AUN windbreaker and a smile stepped out onto the lookout platform. Though she was short, she had her sea legs, having served on the Rapier herself as a communications officers. In fact, that's how they had met. He smiled at her and took her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. She spoke up, her voice riding on the wind. "Hey, Tom, let's go downstairs, the party's about to begin and you haven't even changed yet!" A playful look appeared on his face and he smiled once more. "Hey, maybe you could help me with that, Jackie."

She laughed, before taking his hand and going down the stairs to the main gunnery deck of the observation tower. "Come on, ya big perv." As the pair disappeared below decks, the two warships sailed along towards the horizon, protected by an unseen flotilla of submarines and fighter aircraft. Soon, the quest would begin to arrive by air, and then the end would begin.

President Thomas Rossland (http://images.google.com/url?q=http://www.musikbase.de/images/people/Richard-Gere.jpg&usg=__tXpIuS-lnVBp-Rg0qAIGdBlBT9U=)

Jackie Rossland (http://www.smh.com.au/ffximage/2006/11/02/abbie_cornish_narrowweb__300x459,0.jpg)

Imperial Palace
"Emperor, I must insist that you go with an armed escort! You have no idea what will happen!" Stephen Cropper, the commander of Emperor Paulus I's personal guard.

"Relax, Steve. The Velkyans have been allied to us for over a century, they won't try anything. It's also good PR - the Emperor is relaxed, why shouldn't you be? I won't take no for an answer. I'm going alone." Paulus said, and he left the room to go outside to the Imperial Palace's small airfield.

Paulus was a registered pilot with the Whyatican Air Authority, and he owned a small SVTOL aircraft that he got as a christmas present from his father, the previous Emperor. There are newer models of said SVTOL aircraft around, but Paulus kept this one around for - sentiment's sake.

He loaded up, checked that the plane was fueled, put on his flight suit, and got into the plane. Stephen and the other members of the Imperial Personal Guard shook their heads, sighing as they saw the brash young Emperor lift off and rocket into the Whyatican sky..

AUNV Ascendant Justice
45 mintues after lifting off from the Imperial Palace, Paulus found himself within range of the monstrous Ascendant Justice, and he turned on the communicator, "AUNV A-J this is Emperor Paulus I of Whyatica, requesting permission to land."

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

The President's voice echoed throgh Paulus' earphones.

"Roger that, Pauly, you're cleared to land on the port deck, over."

The President and the previous Emperor had been staunch friends ever since Thomas' Navy days, and had known Paulus since he was an infant. Now, the boy was a man, taking the place of his dead father. It was an odd relationship, really, the President being sort of an odd uncle to Paulus, allowing his own son, Jack, to befriend the young Paulus, before and during his current tenure as a fighter jock in the Allied Union Air Force. Now, as the President sat aboard the command bridge of the Ascendant Justice, he watched the SVTOL aircraft close in on the two vessel formation. Rossland exited the bridge, making his way through the labyrinth to the port flight deck, where a few dozen sailors and aircrew were preparing for the Emperor's arrival.

Pauly. That's a name Emperor Paulus I hadn't heard for what seemed like eons. He must have been seven or eight the last time he had heard that name from his virtual Uncle, President Thomas Rossland. He said, giving a slight grin, "Roger, Uncle Tom. Coming in to land."

The SVTOL aircraft set gently down on the flight deck of the Ascendant Justice, and Paulus hopped out, eschewing his flight suit for the casualware he had on underneath. Velkyan air crew took the plane and moved it to make room for other landing planes, and he looked around for Rossland to give his greetings.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

Rossland emerged from behind a fuel tank, holding a four foot long case in one hand and waving with the other. The former admiral laughed deeply as he approached the Emperor.

"Jesus H. Christ, you're a damn giant now, boy. And an Emperor, too."

Rossland was a tall figure, his body muscular and well-honed, even though it had been over ten years since he had retired from the Navy. He placed his hand on the youth's shoulder.

"Your father would be proud of you, Paulus, as I am right now. That is why I wanted to present you with this."

Thomas opened the case, revealing a sheathed sword. The sheath was jet black, made of a mix of carbon fiber composites and old style wood. Inside the sheath layed a three foot two inch long calvary sword, polished to a mirror finish, with the hilt embroidered with gold and imprinting with the Imperial Whyatican and Allied Union coat of arms, with the words FREEDOM ISN'T FREE etched into the blade, which was made of a titanium core with a softer steel covering.

"Your father wanted me to give this to you when you came of age, a symbol of the undying alliance between our nations."

[Velkyan Airspace, 58 km from AUNV Ascendant Justice]

Three aircraft bearing the regalia and roundels of the Militaristic Federation danced over the calm waters of the Eaglin Sea. Although Tyrandis had not had any involvement in the recent events surrounding the defeat and conquest of the weakling states, Lady Autocrat Kurumi Hamazaki nonetheless was invited to join this gathering of the Alliance for the Preservation of Civilization's leadership. She was fairly pleased with this turn of events; the success of APOC in crushing the upstart nationstates of the world before the will of the established powers had led to lucrative opportunities for Tyrandisan industry and diplomatic prestige in general. The ravenous machine of war needed to be fed, and Tyrandis's substantial arms manufacturing sector had greatly prospered from the spending spree of APOC states in response to the crisis.

Hamazaki smiled at the thought of so much gold flowing into her state, as she reclined her seat in a whirling VTR-60H Shadowhawk VIP helicopter. Escorted by two TAA-625 Teuton Tactical Attack Aircraft, the Autocrat's transport radioed ahead for landing clearance some twenty minutes away from the Velkyan battleship.

"Five minutes to landing, button down folks. This is getting rough...".
The JR-34 Executive tilt-rotor VTOL roared over the waves towards Ascendant Justice. No escorts, they'd figured the Velkians would have that covered.

It wasn't every day that a shindig was held on a super capital, nor was it every day that a honest to god member of the Directorate showed up in public, as they were generally directing Izistan from buried, nuclear hardened Vaults. That or in transit between them in supersonic transports or armored nuclear powered trains. After all, decapitation strikes were a bitch.

So Detective-Colonel Isbrand Zedlacher, head of Internal Security and the second member of the Directorate, found himself staring at the massive ship. Not as big as Izistan, but still damn impressive. Close to the scale of the projected Vigilance. It did look odd when half of your eye sight was black and wight though...

Velkyan Airspace, 58 km from AUNV Ascendant Justice

Two IF-13C Super Phoenix interceptors formed up alongside the trio of Tyrandisian aircraft, their own 'gunship gray' paint schemes contrating with that of the foreign fighters. The flight leader, a Colonel in the Allied Union Air Force, patched a radio message through to the aircraft containing the Lady Autocrat.

"Welcome to Velkya, Ms. Hamazaki. We'll guide your aircraft into the Ascendant Justice, but we respectfully ask on behalf of the Air Defense Command that your escorts break off, as the Ascendant Justice currently is not outfitted to handle combat aircraft at this time. They are welcome to land at McHoffman Naval Air Station for refueling and rest, should you permit it. After the conclusion of this exercise, we'll allow them to rejoin your transport aircraft on the return home."

The pilot ended his broadcast, waving to the Tyrandisian pilot near him before radioing the massive vessel up ahead to prepare for a landing. Moments later, another Velkyan fighter, this one an IF/A-15 Nightmare multirole aircraft, entered into formation with the Izistani transport plane, directing it towards the battleship.

Paulus took the sword out of it's sheath, and balanced it on his finger. Perfectly balanced. He put it back in the sheath, marvelled at the exquisite sheath for a little bit, then locked in into his plane. It wouldn't look right, with him in jeans and a shirt wearing a cavalryman's sword. He said, "The gift from you and..my father is very much appreciated, Tom. I'll keep it with me..after the party, naturally. I'd rather not be drunk and have a 3 foot cavalry sword with me." Paulus grinned, and said to Tom, "So how have you been?" as the Tyrandisian aircraft landed on the flight deck of the Ascendant Justice.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

Tom sighed.

"It's been shit for the past few months, Pauly, as you undoubtbly know."

He was, of course, refering to the destruction of Nova Brittanica, which had hit both the Whyatican and Velkyan leadership quite hard. While most of the public had been generally supportive of his administration's position, naturally, many of the leftist factions were outspoken in their dissaproval of the handling of the conflict dubbed 'The Two Hour War' by the media. At least this party was a chance for him to unwind.

"Ah, tonight's going to be something else, eh Pauly? Lotsa fine girls to be had, I'd have to say." He smiled as he added as an afterthought, though Jackie would kill me. "And, best of all, Jack just got leave from Clandonia, he'll be taking a spin over here for a few hours. How long has it been since you two guys hung out last?"

[Almost bed time. Short ass post.]

The tilt-rotor hovered for a few seconds before landing. Zedlacher got out (a small security detail stayed with the plane) and wandered away, trying to meet up with the main party.

"Yeah. Not a month ago I had to do one of the most irritating press conferences of my life. Some of the reporters were openly hostile, and one of the goddamn Rosian ones stabbed himself in the heart for no apparent reason." Paulus said. He didn't come here to talk shop, he came here to get some very needed relaxation.

"Jack's coming? Damn. It's been like three years since I've seen him, since he enlisted in the air force." he said, wondering how long it actually had been since he had seen his friend Jack.

S.R.N.S. 'Improbable' 'Majestic'-Class Trimaran Hyper Carrier

President Kara Maddox eyed her invitation to the Velkyan Super Capital, she was sure she was gonna go, but she didn't want to be hit on. She had been on a tour of the new We Buy It Inc. Factories in the artic territories and the new bunker system running inland, not to mention the new Siege Dreadnought slips being built.

She remembered that her former meetings with world leaders usually consisted of her being hit on, mostly because she was only 33 years old and a world leader. 'Damned world leaders sure are a bunch of pervs, like most men, ah well, I guess I wear a modest dress for the party' She thought to herself as she donned her dress, a black sleeveless knee length dress with modest clevage showing, she had a pair of heels in her and a large dress coat on her.

Several minutes, and several catcalls and slaps later she exited the carrier's bridge and walked towards the Presidential MV-87K Coba VTOL Light Transports. Several F-8B 'Phoenix' Naval Air Superiority Fighters were already in the air, President Maddox donned her flight vest and climbed into the crew bay. The VTOL then lifted off into the bright sky.

Velkyan Airspace, 45 km from AUNV Ascendant Justice

The transport came into radio range of the A-J and radioed for permission to land.

"AUNV A-J this is the Skyian Presidential Transport carrying President Kara Maddox *In background* "Hey, let me talk" */background/* Requesting permission to land."

Velkyan Airspace, 45 km from AUNV Ascendant Justice

The fighter patrols again descended on the Skyian transport, a pair of IF/A-14Cs, their radios relaying landing information to the Skyians and leading in with the aid of the air controllers onboard Ascendant Justice.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

The President laughed.

"Jack's been a bit of everywhere at once, he got deployed to Lesbos right out of academy, bagged himself two enemy birds when they tried to intercept a transport column. After that, he got promoted to First Liuetenant, and they sent him and his squadron over to Clanon City to provide air cover for COIN operations. All in all, a pretty successful couple of years. He'll be swinging by in a few hours, probably in his war horse and all."

As an aftethought, Tom shook his head, thinking with Navy gusto, My son HAD to become a fighter jock, haha.

City of Rose, The Island of Rose

It was just another day in the Rosian Republic. Random folk were walking around going to work, the children were learning things that they were going to forget in the real world, and Sergei was being all... Presidential. But what's this? My gosh! He was going something not so Presidential.

Sitting in the Presidential Office (which is just the Oval Office but red) Sergei was looking at pictures of a carrier. A Velkyan carrier in fact. He was look at the people at the deck. Sergei cringed.

"Oh hell no!" He stated in his thick Russian accent. "How dare they have a party and not invite me?!"

Sergei stood up. "I'm coming!"

Sergei ran out of the Palace, and into the large city. Mind you the city is... fricken' huge. Like, it's big, and stuff. Don't ask me how big it is I have a life man. Well not now because I'm on vacation but that's besides the point darn it. My point is he ran like that hot German chick from Run, Lola, Run, indeed there was even bouncage.

But let's not get into that.

Sergei arrived at the airport where his custom R/F-91 (a fancy term for a F/A-91 designed by Soviet Bloc) sat. He hasn't used it in years and he was excited to use it. Underneath the plane was an empty gas casket thing, with his stuff inside... yes stuff. Inside was his clothes, money, and other important things. But there was something valuable inside Sergei's pocket, a portable rapier! That's right, it extended and locked into place, and stuff. Don't ask me how the concept works I'm not smart.

Sergei hopped in. "Off we go!" He stated as he took off.

Meanwhile his wife rushed into the office, she was surprised, no Sergei! There was a note though.

Dear Important People:

I am... somewhere, look, erm... I love you?

Diane boiled with rage. "Oh hell no! OH HELL NO! FAFEFEEEEEEEEEFF"

Near the Ascendent Justice

Sergei was flying along just fine when all of a sudden, his plane started to spaz out like I usually do when I get frustrated. Sergei did not like this. "I don't like this!" See? Anywho the engine started to catch on fire and and his instruments started to explode, now, I don't know the cause of this and quite frankly this is all for comedic effect.

And I hope you're enjoying, you dirty little person you.

Sergei had no choice but to eject and let the plane fly alone, eventually it got far enough from the Ascendent Justice that it exploded, and its little bits of pieces went into the ocean. Meanwhile Sergei parachuted down on the deck and looked at a sailor.

"Yo."

Because he's just that cool.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

President Kara Maddox watched as the VTOL closed in on the Ascendant Justice, she did notice that it was a good 200m smaller then the 'Kraken'-Class Siege Dreadnoughts of the Skyian Military, but to each their own she though.

She felt a small chill of nervousness as the VTOL closed in on the supercapital, she reached for her outer thigh and found what she was lookinf for, it was a Mekugian Sentiel 2, or Concealable, Special Purpose 2 as it was known by her secret service agents.

She also hoped that her years of experience with Hostile Takeover Inc. would help her incase anything went wrong. She also patted her travel suitcase with her extra pair of 'casual clothes' and underwear, cause hey, everyone needs clean underwear.

Minute or Two Later

The VTOL touched it's landing gear to the deck and the engines cut off, seconds later one of the aircrew opened the rear platform and President Maddox quietly stepped down to the deck, her 5'11" frame and blond hair making it's self none, as well as her nice curves and nice rack, as the Questerian King puts it.

She looked around for the Velkyian President and other party attendees, patting her Sentiel 2 for good luck and reassurance.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

The President then spotted the Skyian delegate, mointioning to the Emperor to follow him as we walked over. He turned back to his 'nephew'.

"Come on, Pauly, time to play bullshit."

Meanwhile, just aft of the Y position turret, Gunner's Mate Jacob Robinson was enjoying a smoke when he saw the small Mexican built plane go down in the ocean. Minutes later, a figure bobbed to the side of the ship.

"Yo."

Without even breaking his glance, Jacob picked up a deck phone.

"Watch Control, get the environmental officer, we've got a beached whale aft of Y turret, over."

He then picked up a intertube attached to a tension rope, throwing it to the floating Rosian. He then flicked his cigarette butt over the side, while his thoughts revealed his cynical nature.

Why'd this fat fuck survive...

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

President Maddox spotted the Velkyan president and waved, he was with what looked like the Whyatican Emperor and another man, probably related to them in some weird way.

She paused for a moment as she received a communication from Vice President Brock Gangrich on her cell phone, she quickly texted him back and turned back towards the Velkyan President and Whyatican Emperor and stuck out her hand, "President Kara Maddox of The Silver Sky, it's nice to finally meet you in person, same to you Emperor Paulus I."

It seems that our Velkyan friends are too lazy to edit the post because he's lazy[i] but nevermind that we're here to have fun right folks? Right? YOU LAZY WHORE. Let me continue, oh and, he's not fat!

Sergei, who is now seeming to be floating of the side of the boat for some reason, hanged on to the rope and was magically pulled up. He stood up, his suit and hair dry because they were made of teflon, okay not the hair, but the suit was like made of this material that doesn't get wet. I think it's teflon, the hell do I know?

Sergei cleared his throat. "[i]Excuse me for that dramatic entrance. I am President Sergei Ilyanov of the Island of Rose. I wish to be escorted to the party."

Sergei paused. "Also, this is a very nice ship you have here..." He said all this with that manaccent that is Russian.

Also I apologize for any insults said in this post, the Narrator just needed to VENT.

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

Soon, a pair of Marines dressed in grayed camouflage BDUs appeared on scene, and escorted Sergei to the port flight deck.

Meanwhile, on said flight deck, Thomas forced his eyes from wandering down the figure of President Maddox, taking her hand and bowing a bit.

Ever the gentleman.

"The same to you, Ms. Maddox. I trust the ride over the Eaglin was pleasent?"

Matthew Riew - the name struck fear into the hearts of Questarian diplomats, because the recently-promoted First Sea Lord had a grave habit of - how do we say, fucking things up.

"Do I look alright Commodore?"

"You look fine sir. Stop asking." Commodore Watkins replied.

"Hmm." Riew adjusted his suit. "Well. You sure you can handle her?"

"Aye sir." Watkins rolled his eyes.

"And you're sure you don't want to come aboard?"

"No sir." Watkins rolled his eyes again.

Riew snuffed out his cigar and tossed it out the window. "Alrigiht. I'll see you later. Here'r the keys."

"Sir. These are the keys for your car."

"Oh right." Riew took them off him and handed him the captain badge of HMS Hood.

The Mighty Hood as it was colloquially known throughout the world pulled up as close as it could to the Ascendant Justice. The rather short helicopter ride to the A.J was over quickly and Riew had made sure his best friend was with him - his Springshaft 1922 short-barreled service revolver, hidden in his inside pocket.

The helicopter landed and Riew jumped out, dusting his hands and looking for the guards, who took him into the main room where everybody was. Riew was quite surprised to see that it seemed casual was the dress form for today, adn he knew he was out of his league, with heads of state present - well, he'd just have to act with his usual confidence.

He walked up to the Whyatican/Skyian/Velkyan heads of state, humming Rule Questaria as he did so, and a second later when there was an opening remarked "Oh dear, looks like i've dressed for the wrong party!"

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

President Maddox smiled a bit, usually the only men she talked to were those scum of the earth lobbyist and reporters, old fart senators, or VP Gangrich, who was nice in his own right, but not this polite, considering the 12 year difference.

Nice to see their are still gentlemen, I need to get out more.

"Thank you Mr. Rossland, the view was pleasent, well, as pleasent as it can be out of those little windows, but the flight was a little bumpy, but other then that, it was very nice."

After the Questerian Admiral made himself known she turned to him and stuck out her hand. "I guess you're right, President Kara Maddox of The Silver Sky here, and you are?"

He shook Kara's hand warmly.

"First Sea Lord Matthew Riew, Imperial Questarian Navy" he coughed "I suppose you could tell by the accent. You also might have seen my 'ride' outside."

A.U.N.V. Ascendant Justice, Eaglin Sea, Allied Union Of Velkya

Thomas laughed.

Ever the cocky seaman.

"Welcome to the AJ, Lord Riew. We're always honored to fly formation with a Questerian ship." He shook the First Sea Lord's hand, recalling his time spent aiding in the defense of Questerian Jamaica against Hatarian invaders, he'd sailed with the King's vessels before. His reverire was interrupted by a crack of thunder on the horizon, and the President noticed the skies off the port were beginning to darken with storm clouds. He turned to the rest of the group.

"That'll end our meeting rather fast, haha. Let's head inside, I'll show you around, eh?"

"Zumelldan Come here,” Denteth retorted in Consternation, before chiding himself, he had to be nice to him, best not remind him that like many these days, his dead fathers, as he finished Straightening the shoulders of Zimesdan's Tunic he pounced on Zumelldan with a loud cry, “Gotcha, now you two, This will be your first encounter with foreigners, You will of course be behaving,”

"Yes Uncle Denteth" The pair said in unison as they stood back to back facing Denteth a smirk on their faces. Looking the picture of their Imperial Grandfathers, their poise and stance was indistinguishable, the Identical pair moved as one and stood side by side, as Denteth continued to ensure that the two were immaculately dressed, Their Tunics of an Unusual Style, over their shoulders were draped fabric that hugged the fabric over which it was lain, a deep hypnotic black, bordered with a rich blood red, an amazing subtle gold yellow, a verdant wild green and a blue like sapphires, the layered nature of this garb became apparent when the two moved swiftly to the side of the room, an amazing pattern beneath the layers revealed itself with their movement, as the young pair gazed out of the windows, as the sight outside, the sky was alive, it writhed and moved, great birds filled the air calling out and crying, here and there were a few large dragon like creations, of a vibrant blood red, in the air hung a great sight, the sky seemed alive with a blaze of light as the Tokons and their Dragon like companions, known as Vrazen danced together creating a great glowing emblem high in the sky, 9 colors illuminated the evening sky, the Novan flag seemed to flutter as the dance continued, and the small force approached, an unusual show, the strange design of the Novan ships, a sight only seen in sailors tales, lost at sea, to be found by cackling mechanical birds, taken aboard strange ships by men of a strange country speaking an unknowable tongue, to wake up back on course, hearing rumors of having been guided there by a strange flying man, tales like this and more.

"Come away from there," Denteth called out in slight frustration, he was more used to dealing with ministers by now, not by his excited charges, he has been named their guardian in the will of Krisedes and Kusandean, the Emotional pair had never ascended the Twin Thrones, they had feared the consequences, lest Kukonois lead a great army to Novesia slaughtering millions to merely kill them, like he had their father, their wives were dead, as had the pair, they had tried to rally the people at Valjsguard and had been shot by the Kukonois forces there, there sons had been entrusted to the care of Denteth Tolion, the Novan Suprainister, who did his best to take care of the rebellious pair, and as he Set the caps upon the youths heads and the two smiled sweetly he knew his efforts hadn’t been in vain, yet he felt himself lacking, he had doubt in his ability to raise them properly, he himself had lost his father at Valjsguard, but he did his duty, and he lead his people, and cared for this pair.

“Now you two, come with me,” he uttered as he rose and padded gently out of the door, which slid open with a gentle hiss, the Soldiers outside saluting as their leader casually returned the salutes as he walked down the corridors, a tall man with thick black cropped hair fell in beside him,

“Suprainister, I will of course be accompanying you, I could do nothing else,” Uttered Yuri simply, he left no room for argument, unusual for him to be this forceful, but Denteth sighed shaking his head slightly, as he entered the elevator that would take them to the deck, “Yes Yes of course you will be coming, I know better than to go without a guard, they know little of us, people always fear what they don’t know,” smirking sideways at the leader of the Black Skull Enforcers, the thought of turning one of the mans own proverbs against him was a humorous concept to him, as he dug him gently in the ribs with an elbow. “Be sure to keep an eye on these two as well, you know what their like,” he muttered slowly as he leaned close to Yuri to make sure the astute pair behind him wouldn’t hear.

Yuri Nodded sagely a slight smirk creasing his features, as the Elevator slid open he fell into formation behind the Twin Princes, the Assigned Escort melting into formation silently, as they walked out across the deck, the dramatic Communications tower rising behind them, the Bridge Tower in the distance rising like a cryptic mountain, resplendent with obelisks which aided in the radiance being shone in the skies as the Vrazen and Tokon Danced with one another in mid air, he expanded his Mental presence outwards, sharpening his senses and heightening his awareness, he of course wasn’t expecting trouble but better safe than sorry.

The Group Embarked in the Parridigram, the Soldiers first and last in, In ceremonial Uniform, which would allow them to take a fair beating, more so than other nations ceremonial dress, their strange helmets seemed to be cackling away in mirth, that strange face presented to the world, so full of contradiction. The Hatch on the Parridigram slid shut and the Parridigram took to the skies, joined by a quartet of strange Mobile Suits, with large Pauldrons Long Rifles, in addition a pair of the strange mechanical dragons descended to escort the transport the short trip across to the Velkyan Carrier, as the Tokons and Vrazen above began to descend to the carrier and into the large hangar bay entries along the front and sides, the carrier glistened with a red glow as they held position at sea, the rest of the Naval force was at casual alert, the journey had been long, but it had been worth it.

The Parridigram and its unusual Escort flew as one towards the Carrier, a brooding presence in the skies. As it approached the Ascendant Justice, it's black armoured airframe as one with the skies, flared with red streaks and bearing Novan Military Insignia as it descended lower and lower.
As it touched down a pair of strange armoured figures padded out, clad in Blue and golden Yellow, with Biazzare headboards of an almost egyptian theme, afterwards stooping out was Denteth Tolion, in immaculate dress, simple yet distinct, and behind him walking in perfect time, blinking breathing even slight movements perfectly in sink were the royal pair, behind them came a tall man with a hidden expression and a few other Novans.

"Oh, of course. Its a pleasure to be here with you all."

Riew looked up at the rain, letting out a barely noticable frown, and realised he was getting homesick already. It just doesn't rain like it does at home, for every Questarian's home is his castle and every Questarian moat is filled with rainwater. He observed the rain a little longer and then quickly caught up with the group heading inside.

WHAM!

CRASH!

BANG!

ZOOM!

These, and other similar noises, are accompanying General Adrian Longleaf as he falls out of the sky. Well, not exactly falls. He's in an airplane, a rather old one, and the frantic motions of his cat running around in back are sending its old flimsy frame rocking around all over the place. Longleaf is a good pilot, but that along with the driving rain, lightning, etc. is really disorienting him and making his life difficult in general.

An image flashes up on his radar screen. It looks like an aircraft carrier, and it's not flying a Doomani flag, so Longleaf hails it. "Unknown carrier, this is General Adrian Longleaf of the Czardaian Whole Sort of General Mish Mash, requesting permission to land before this stupid plane falls apart."

As he awaits a response, something behind him pops and fizzes and a small red flame flickers in on his viewscreen. "Shit."

A moment later. "Oops, does the red light mean transmission is still on?"

Then one of the afterburners decides to die, sending the plane rocking crazily on one side for some reason like the bridge in Star Trek episodes when someone fires a photon torpedo at the Enterprise. Sparks fly out of the antiquated computer system and the cat jumps on top of Longleaf's head, not helping matters.

The guests, including the Novans, each having recieved a hearty welcome, were taken to a medium sized room, with all the comforts of land. On one wall was a three by five foot flag of the Allied Union, with another of the same size, that of the Sovereign League. In a corner was a small bar, and around the floor of the room were couches and small tables. In the front was a large LCD screen, currently displaying a light blue background and the Allied Union coat of arms.

"This is one of the A-J's officer's lounges, make yourselves at home, we've got a formal dinner later tonight."

President Maddox sighed a bit, the meeting was certainly better then she expected, but still, it felt a bit suffocating, especially with the amount of pride each of the male delegates seemed to be expouting.

She got the bartenders attention, "Bartender, scotch on the rocks, and give me one of those lil' drink umbrellas, I need something to play with." She said with a smile, it had been a while since she had a drink, with the military inspections and all the political crap.

After getting her drink she sat down on a small couch, almost sighing in pleasure as the soft seat accepted her small weight. 'This is certainly much better then that VTOL!' she thought as she twirled the umbrella between her fingers.

“Ascendant Justice, this is Allanean Air Force One, setting up to land, over.”

“AAF-One, you are clear to land, over.”

The Allanean President-for-Life would not, of course, use the Army's aircraft for his own enjoyment. Rather – to demonstrate his saving of the taxpayer's money and other such conservative virtue – he took up his own private aircraft for the task

And thus, the Air Force one was a black-painted A-10 Thunderbolt, modified with arrestor gear and kill marks – the plane was used in the Antanjylian war, where the President had personally taken down five enemy tanks before the locals have surrendered.

As the aircraft landed, the massive, high-powered loud-speakers attached to it took over and blazed out a Cascada song at full-blast, shocking a seagull overhead into plummeting to the deck.

Kazansky jumped limberly onto the deck, crushing the seagull underfoot with a crunch. “Hello, people. Can I get an absinthe here?"

"What do you mean you don't have any appa-kumi teikoku kimoto kome-koji? Fine, I'll just have a sake then." he said, slipping casually into Questarian English and Questarian Japanese. Riew waved off the barman dismissively and muttered something rather quietly about colonials under his breath. Riew took his seat on one of the chairs, surprised at its comfort. He leant back and crossed one leg over the other in the fashion of the Questarian upper class and took a sip of his drink, which was a favourite of the Questarian upper class - Riew himself was the archetypal Questarian Gentleman, polite, well spoken, well-to-do, fair, but extremely powerful and extremely arrogant if neccessary.

The Emperor, in an attempt to be as festive as he could, grabbed a single-malt Whyatican scotch, and a shot of whiskey for the president of Velkya. Handing the whiskey to President Rossland, the Emperor greeted the Questarian Sea Lord. "Welcome to the Ascendant Justice, Lord Riew."

He extended a hand to the Questarian noble and said, "I am Emperor Paulus of Whyatica, but for this party, let's dispense with the formalities, shall we?"

Riew shook Paulus' hand enthusiastically after nodding the welcome. "Naturally." he took another sip of his sake. "A very fine ship she is indeed. I would discuss the war with you, but I shan't pretend that war is something I find a hobby." he paused and took another gulp.

The deafening roar of jet engines suddenly droaned out all other noise about the mighty super-capital. Seemingly randomly, a single ACI-68I VIP transport lifted up right next to the ship, seemingly rising out of nowhere. The aircraft bore the Seal of the Emperor: it was Caesar Maximus III's personal transport.

Mounted beneath the wings on hardpoints that would normally carry missiles were gigantic loudspeakers. Naturally Caesar could not enter any party without suitable fanfare; he would be providing his own in this case. The speakers errupted into a complex and brutal-sounding series of guitar riffs: the intro sequence of Maximus' personal metal anthem.

So loud was the glorious metal which poured fourth from the massive speakers that tables and chairs were blown clean over, drinks spilled, women's dresses blown upwards. After two or so minutes, the song came to its ear-rupturing conclusion, and the aircraft inched forward, plopping down on the landing pad.

As the aircraft set down on its landing gear, the Emperor insisted on playing with the hydraulics while cranking up the bass on the speakers, churning out yet another metal anthem while playing around with the hydraulics on the landing gear, apparently getting a great kick out of it, causing the Empress to slap Maximus and yell at him to hurry up; this in turn was met by Caesar standing up and smacking his wife on her buttocks and pushing her towards the ramp door, which was now opening.

Arm in arm, the Imperial couple proudly stepped off of the aircraft, Maximus clad in his signature black ceremonial armor. He was his usual stony self, his scarred and hardened face conveying no real emotion. As he and his wife emerged from the aircraft, yet another approached off of the bow of the Ascendant Justice,

"Booze is on that one, guys, someone go unload it..."

Of course Maximus, being the generous man he was, had brought an entire transport aircraft completely full of achoholic beverages: Doomani beer and wine, whiskey, scotch, ales, a few cases of Generian vodka in case that had already run out, among other things. In total, there were literally thousands of gallons worth of alchoholic beverages being brought in by Caesar, much of it carried under wing-mounted hardpoints.

"What an uneccessary display." Riew murmured, and then, even quieter "Perhaps the Emperor is trying to tell us something."

"Roger that, this is Kite-Six-One and Six-Two on new vector to McHoffman Naval Air Station."

The two oddly-shaped Teuton fighters broke off from the Tyrandisan formation, leaving only the helicopter and its Velkyan escorts to take it to the Ascendant Justice. Touchdown occured without complications; the Lady Autocrat stepped down off the chopper and onto the flight deck. She wore a fairly conservative black skirt and top, and carried a briefcase; inside were some gifts, courtesy of the Tyrandis Precision Machine Import and Export Corporation. These would be distributed as a sign of friendship to the assembly.

Yuri stood still for a moment on the deck as he tilted his head to look down upon the Imperial Pair, when the commotion of a man falling out of a plane flapping his arms like a crazed canary blubbering for his mother replete with cat on his head like a bizarre head dress yowling like the denizens of Valgen, certainly an unusual sight, even for a Novan, and certainly to Yuri, who with a casual expression of almost contemptuous ease flexed his mind, forcing the parachute worn by the man to activate and air to billow into it, while slowing the mans fall down considerably, while one of the Xikar meandered over to the man to check he was alright, the rest of the Novans made their way into the lounge, smiling at the surroundings, while inwardly appreciating this show of grandeur, the Twins continued to act in perfect sync, approaching the bar

"Barman Sir" Zumelldan started

"Can we have two" Zimesdan Continued

"Of the local" Zumelldan chirped

"vintage Wine" Zimesdan echoed

"Please" The pair side in unison

Denteth himself ordered a measure of Wuwoma, of which the Novans had presented the Velkyans a considerable amount of upon arrival, he cared little for foreign beverages, he delighted in the infinite swirling tastes of the Novan brew, it seemed to dance across the surface of the tongue weaving a tapestry of taste, it overwhelmed the senses and it assaulted the mind, yet it did not intoxicate, and that for him was a priority, he chuckled as he saw the twins in their double act, the two were incorrigible, they never stopped, boundless sources of energy, he peered over the rim of the strange glass as he shifted his gaze around the room, taking in everything in at a glance with his haunting viridian eyes, his hair rippled with the shockwaves of an almighty racket outside, yet apart from that he appeared to have not have noticed the excessive entrance of the Doomingslanders, perched where he was in front of the bar, he alighted upon the Xikar sitting in the corner mulling it over with some miner minister of another nation, while his escort soldiers were conversing with other bodyguards, his gaze then alighted upon the Questarians Whyaticans and Velkyans introducing themselves next to him.

His smile widened as it was his turn to introduce himself, "Denteth Norvriounastan Tolion, Suprainister of Novacom, Xikrauvian" he mentioned, that last word sounding warm and welcoming, and it was indeed, a Novan greeting, "Indeed, dispensing with the formalities will make things much easier, call me by my Declarative, Denteth" he finished sleekly, his voice seemed to wrap around the air, almost hypnotic and ethereal, punctuated by that strange Novan Accent.

No longer bothering with the radio, Longleaf hits the autopilot button, then the eject button; cat on head, he's hurled high into the atmosphere as the aeroplane continues its tumultuous descent. As he searches for his parachute cord, Longleaf is falling through the sky; the grey tabby cat is mewing loudly and rolls into his outstretched arms as the parachute opens behind him of its own volition.

Wha-- that was weird... Longleaf thinks, as he watches the plane hit the deck and -- miraculously -- stay intact. As he reaches the deck, Eris, the cat, leaps out of his arms, jumping nine feet to sort of land where she manages to curl up and fall asleep despite all the chaos. An odd figure is approaching him through the mist; not a Velkyan, definitely; and inquires after his immediate health in an accent Longleaf has never encountered before. Before he can respond, a massive guitar riff completely deafens everyone; while the metal anthem shakes the superstructure and the aeroplanes, Eris continues to sleep, sometimes swishing her tail at raindrops but evidently undisturbed by, and possibly even enjoying the music.

Longleaf is a Czardaian; he's grown used to really loud music blaring at all hours of the day. Ditto Eris, whom he finally manages to rouse into wakefulness as he goes inside; there seem to be a lot of people everywhere, and Longleaf doesn't recognise any of them.

Damn I am out of touch with international politics these days, he thinks as he makes his way for the bar, listening to metal blaring outside, which was quite good. It's a pity we have to be at war with the poor sods.

Longleaf orders a double lime orange bubble black tea whiskey, looks a bit disappointed when told they don't offer it, and gets a plain, strong black tea instead. No sugar, no cream, drop of milk. You know, the works.

He then sits down and looks awkward -- after all, he's a general, not a diplomat.

An oddly shaped.... thing appeared low on the horizon, moving far too fast for a helicopter but clearly possessing rotors. As it passed overhead, observers could see the vague outline of what appeared to be a Sikorsky S-72 tearing overhead. In fact, this craft bore almost nothing in common with the venerable S-72 except appearance and function, almost every single component had been updated to almost inane levels. It began a lazy circle around the Ascendant Justice, climbing slightly and activating its rotor. There was a sickening drop as the rotor powered up and the jets throttled back, but the craft continued on its path, landing lightly on the flight deck.

The door burst open, revealing Atal Amner in formal attire, swinging what appeared to be a case of hard alcohol. He walked to the closest high ranking officer, looking about. "Salutations, I'm Atal Amner, would you kindly orient me on this vessel and direct me towards the festivities? I have some rather intense alcohol to bestow upon the celebrations, in order to ensure that we leave without a single functional esophagus among our number."

"What an uneccessary display." Riew murmured, and then, even quieter "Perhaps the Emperor is trying to tell us something."

"He probably is," Muttered Maddox somewhat to Riew, but really to no one inpraticular, as she took a sip of her scotch, "But then again most of them act this way, arrogance and exageration is a acknowledged trait of the Doominngslandis, probably why they were interested in the NPG project." Continued Maddox, although at a much lower tone then before but once again more to herself then any one else.

"Oh yes. Doomanis, possibly the most disgusting people I have had the unfortune to meet on this entire bloody planet."

Riew thought a moment back to Paralentum where he had commanded one of the mighty supercapitals in the giant naval battle between Questers and Doomingsland. He could remember - well, how could he forget - the deep green waters turning a murky crimson as the Doomani machine gunned the Questarian sailors floating helplessly in the water and it was only with extreme skill did Riew manage to stop himself spitting on the floor and uttering a few extremities. Nevertheless, their nations were allied, and although he could see more worthy friends in the room right now, he had to put up with it.

Rossland thanked Paulus for the whiskey, putting the shotglass up to this lips and letting the amber wood-aged liquid slid down his throat. He went around the room exchanging his greetings with the new arrivals, just before the room began to shake from the arrival of the Doomingslandis.

"Looks our friends have arrived. Let's answer them, shall we?"

The President smiled, and picked up a deck phone.

"Main battery control, full broadside on port, zero degree elevation, load blank!"

Within minutes the sound of metal was drowned out by the sound of forty seperate twenty seven inch naval rifles, forty fireballs expanding out from the smoking dark grey main battery of the Ascendant Justice. Thor's Kick Ass Shipanswered with a volley of her own, the Questarian made guns resounding in the distance. Momentarily taking cover, sailors wearing hearing protection began to offload the multitude of alcoholic beverages the foreign delegates brought onboard, bringing them to the AJ's numerous storerooms.

Riew's eyeballs rolled upwards in thought and then he said "Hm.. those guns, manufactured in Kure, no? Only the cordite so-" He didn't finish when the roaring of Hood's guns opened up.

One by one the rounds sounded off, the blanks shooting off ninety kilometres away, the thunderous explosion that signalled the launch of each 81cm shell. This was followed by rapid fire dual purpose guns firing their firestorm rounds which created an almost beautiful sight inbetween the two ships, and while some may not find it attractive it was certainly remarkable, if not a sign of Hood's strength and her anti air broadside weight.

Zedlacher finally wandered in through the door after many a misadventure while trying to find everyone. "Good god this thing is massive, didn't miss anything did I?"

He then proceeded to brush some lint off of his sleeve while muttering under his breath in Izistani, which to a observer would sound like two deeply angry German men ritualistically murdering a obese Dutchman with a rather large ham. That and pretending not to notice anyone staring at his left eye socket, which was occupied by a golden mirrored lens.

"Well, I'm not so sure Admiral Riew," Said Ms. Maddox, this time directly addressing the Admiral, "Doomanis have their problems for sure, slaughtering and enslaving enemies, and drinking out of their skulls, but they are nothing like the ruthless people that are Serial Killers, Child Rapists and the like, and at least they treat their own people and allies with respect and dignity unlike many facists and communist nations." Finished Maddox.

Her eyes became slightly glazed and her mind rolled back to her days as an Airborne Operative for Hostile Takeover Inc., she remembers he missions to root out communist rebels that were attacking We Buy It Inc. holdings and ships, and most of all she remembered that every time her brigade would move on a town or village that the rebels would burn it down to the ground and kill everyone, just to keep the news of a loss of a town from draining support from their cause.

'Such sick minded commanders those communists were, good thing they met the hands of those who felt their oppression,' She thought as she remebered the pictures of the communist generals being literally town apart by the people they oppressed after their surrender.

"Ruthless? If machine-gunning ten thousand of my sailors while they sat helpless in the water isn't ruthless, well then I dare say-" Riew stopped as he noticed that the Doomani Caesar was coming over.

"Impressive, to say the least." Paulus said to nobody in particular, referring to the broadside fired by the massive supercapital guns.

He listened to the conversation between Lord Riew and President Maddox, determining whether or not he wanted to get in on this mess..

Hamazaki was lead to the recroom by a helpful Velkyan staffer, where she promptly ordered a cold light beer. Chuckling inwardly at the coming spat between the Doomani and Questarian leaders, she sipped at her beverage and watched with anticipation.

Caesar had recognized Riew from a distance as soon as he had stepped off of his aircraft. The two had met years ago in person: it had been Riew himself that had signed the Treaty of Necropolis with Caesar Maximus III, ending Questarian involvement in the Last Good War.

That treaty had secured the release of no less than twenty-five thousand Questarian prisoners, including two members of the Royal Family and ten generals, all members of the army that had been surrounded and annihilated by Caesar's legions. In return, the Questarian Navy withdrew, and hostilities between the Imperium Doomanum and Questarian Empire officially ceased. The war had dragged on for another few months as Imperial troops battled with the Czardaian Army for control of the port of Arretium, but ultimately the Czardaians had withdrawn.

The Treaty of Necropolis had indirectly resulted in the formation of APOC; the two men that now stood face to face were partially responsible for the current state of international politics.

”Admiral Riew, my good friend!” Caesar said as he took a puff of his expensive Generian cigar, allowing a slight smile; his proud, soldierly swagger remained, however, ”How have you been, brother?”

Riew breathed in deeply. pompous catholic idiot... nevertheless, he put on his most diplomatic face and replied with a smile. "Emperor Maximus! What a pleasure to see you. I barely heard you arrive." He paused for a moment and continued. "I've kept well" How did your brother take to having his fleet decimated in front of him? Riew felt like asking, but again refrained. "What about yourself? Still on those cigars eh?"

Vistakal Xestren looked up, gazing out the wide red tinted glass of the bridge of the NMS Vistakal Amlenzen the second the batteries began opening fire, smirked when a Xekuval enlightened him as to the nature of the game, nodding wordlessly, as the Xekuval turned and muttered a few words into a terminal, the Tokons and Vrazen soaring through the air began to sing, in their own unique way, a vibrant haunting song as the flew like vultures over the combined fleets, Vrazen, The Dragon, Tokons, The Birds, they sung their cryptic song of an ancient land shrouded in myth, a haunting song that enshrouded the soul, reaching a dramatic crescendo, before fading out to a subtle chorus that could be heard when all was silent.

The twins drank deeply in unison before turning to face each other as they nodded to each other taking up position either side of Riew each a mirror image of the other, "Itzerican Riew," the twins purred in perfect english, their accent curling around every syllabal, "Is that your flagship firing the 81mm guns?" the two asked in unison, their voices creating a disturbing effect comming from either side of the Questerian as they smiled, they even held their drinks in the same way, one could not have told them apart even if they had a year to do so.

Denteth took a deep draught of his drink, supressing his supreme distaste at the pungent aroma now corrupting his very being, as he observed the Twins chattering away, mindful of their manners and sure not to interupt, resolving himself later on to investigate what that odious brown object protuding out of the Doomani Emperor's mouth as he muttered in seeming response to Paulus, "we all have a bit of showmanship in us,"

"Oh, yes, you should try them sometime, these Generian ones...I have some right here if you would like," he responded casualy,

How did you like seeing your King's son dragged before you in chains, infidel?

"But yes, I have been quite well, considering things..." he glanced over towards the Czardaians for a moment and quietly muttered to the Questarian and Skyian, "Anarchist barbarians..."

It was no secret in Caesar's court that Maximus generally did not hold the Questarian people in a very high regard. He personaly very much liked King Richard, however: the two got along quite well, hence the strong state of the Imperial Triumvirate. However, he regarded the Questarians as what he called "whiskey-guzzling surrender-monkeys."

While he had to admit they had put up a good, honorable fight, the fact their generals had chosen to live than die honorably in battle still bothered him. These people here at this official function, were, of course, foreigners. They did not appreciate the fine art of tearing a man limb from limb while he still drew breath, nor did most of them understand what it was to fight to the death for one's God and Imperium.

"I'd rather not." Riew took his pipe (http://www.roll-ups.co.uk/ishop/images/879/03.jpg) from his pocket and tapping some tobacco in, lit up and puffed on his pipe. "I always prefer my pipe." He puffed again. "Anarchists indeed. Its a wonder they haven't fallen apart."

Riew was going to say something else when the Novan twins chirped in. He suddenly found himself surrounded by the inquisitive pair and although their grasp of the English language was rather good, there was something about their accents Riew just couldn't put his finger on. "Why, yes" he replied "that's her. The Mighty Hood. The finest warship to sail the seas, if I may say so myself."

Rossland smirked, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. He turned to Paulus, speaking in a soft tone to his "nephew" while gazing at Riew and Caesar.

"They're seething on the inside, I can see the steam rising from their ears."

Paulus pointed at the smoke coming from Riew's pipe and said, "..or perhaps he's just smoking. It's elementary, Watson!"

The Emperor was a smartass as usual.

"Xalanien," the two chiriped in unison the strange Novan word that sounded very much like "Cool" with a few other bits of admirable words, "Vistakal Xestren told us a bit about the Hood on the way here, especially about when she was sunk off of Gibraltar, he'd shown us records of it in action, but it's quite a sight to see it for real," the twins recited animatedly a glint hiding in the depths of their pure blue eyes, like the sea which surrounded everyone, "The ships we've seen on the way here arn't like Novan ships, they look very different, and the layout seems strange, but it's what works for others we guess," they finished as they grinned, two perfect smiles from the inseperable pair, tilting their heads in unison to regard the pipe the Questerian now had, before asking curiously, "Whats it like to be in a Naval Battle?"

Nearby Denteth chuckled at the sight into his drink spying Yuri in a corner conversing with somebody in guarded tones, chuckling inwardly again he thought cheerfully, you can move him away from the homeland but you can't move the homeland away from him, as he idly thought about Yuri's Penchant for secrets of all brands, "a trick of the trade," he muttered aloung in english absent mindedly.

Longleaf is the only Czardaian in the room aside from the cat; however, he does manage to overhear the Doomani and Questarian remarks directed towards his nation. He half-smiles. Riew is slightly behind the times; the old, anarchist Czardas did fall apart, six years ago to be exact. In fact, if it hadn't been for this implosion, APOC would never have existed.... it was after Czardas had been reduced to effectively the dark ages and begun its rebuilding that the interested parties had divided it up along specific lines, which in turn led to the infamous Council of 2017 in which the various powers pledged to protect civilised society from hitting a Czardas-like point by defending it from anarchism. It was there that some delegate -- Longleaf doesn't know the history by heart, but he suspects it was a Generian or Doomani -- came up with the name "Alliance for the Preservation of Civilisation", followed by the Willinkian backformation "Allied Powers Of Coolness". (no, just kidding.) The already strong relations between Questaria and Doomingsland had only contributed to their agreement over what to do with Czardas, and more so, how to prevent this from happening again. Czardas had become a closed state for the next six years. No-one knew what went on within it except for a few government officials and the like in high positions.

Longleaf is close enough that he could break into the conversation; as the Novan twins momentarily distract Riew, Longleaf speaks, "Actually, we're reforming that absolutely dreadful political system now... Mariosz is looking at the 'benevolent-dictatorship-with-minority-protection' model, and Palma and the Initiative are looking at reuniting with Dorium to reform a Czardaian state, just with a completely different government style... or so I've heard."

Longleaf checks himself. "What poor manners. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm retired General Adrian Longleaf, of the Allied Czardaian States. You know, the one in the middle. And this," he indicates the cat who has decided to curl up atop the nearest person, "is -- Eris, no sleeping on national leaders' heads! -- perhaps the greatest threat to society we have today." The cat meows threateningly at Longleaf from its perch and runs off in search of an Izistani; she seems to like them in general.

"Yaikrauvien" the enigmatic pair chirp up as they put their heads together mischievously, the one left twin began, "I am Prince Zumelldan," with a half cheer as he called it out enthusiastically, the one on the right now spoke up, the pair sharing that cheeky grin they wore so well, "I am Prince Zimesdan", the pair switched places in a heartbeat, still either side of the Questerian, and bowed, "We are the Twin Princes,"

Denteth chuckled at the twins antics, as he spoke into the proceedings dodging the cat yowling away like a bullet in a random direction in good humor, "They are a lively pair aren’t they," as he stood facing the imperial pair with a smirk, they were truley incorrigible.

Ms. Maddox gave a glare at Riew, seemlying saying 'We'll finish our conversation later'.

She seemed to enjoy herself quite well after the conversation with Lord Riew, even surpressing a laugh when Caesar Maximus made his comment about the Czardaians. And even chuckling a little at the Novanian Twins, andGeneral Longleaf's comments towards Riew and Caesar.

She remembered the Czardaian Civil War, it had been covered quite extensively by We Buy It Inc. and Silver Sky National News, and it was about the time that she herself became president.

After that she laughed in her own cute little way at the Czardaian's cat, who was rather a cute little thing.

She looked at General Longleaf and stuck out her hand while saying, "President Kara Maddox, The Silver Sky, a pleasure to meet you General."

Riew was now officially freaked out. These where the oddest pair of human beings he'd ever seen. "What works?" he chuckled. "Well, I should say it works. We don't call it the Mighty Hood for nothing, you know." he took another puff on the pipe.

"A naval battle? Well, its great. I suppose I wouldn't be in the Navy if I didn't like it." he chuckled "It's even better when you win, too." he smiled. The Doomani probably got the hint, and if the twins had ready any naval history, they would have too - the battle of paralentum between Questers and Doomingsland was the largest battleship engagement in history, and although Questers had won the battleship engagement, its Kido Butai, the mobile striking arm of the carrier fleet was devastated and would never operate with th same power in the war again.

Riew looked the Czardaian up and down. "Oh, you have a cat. How quaint." He took another puff from his pipe and before the Doomani could, extended his hand. "First Sea Lord Admiral Riew."

Rossland chuckled softly before lightly punching Paulus on the arm.

"Whatever, smartass."

He hopped off the barstool, casually waltzing over to the Lady Autocrat. He smiled, taking her hand and bowing, oddly out of place since he was wearing a simple Navy-issue leather jacket, jeans, and a baseball cap that read 'BBN-1 Rapier'.

"How's Velkya treating you so far, Ms. Hamazaki?"

Maximus shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Riew's implications,

"Yes, they are indeed a fine class of ship. However...I personaly find them a bit lacking in the area of shelling troops entrenched in jungle..." he said casualy, smirking slightly.

Of course Caesar referred to the Battle of Paralentum proper, the land campaign on the island itself. There had been ten-thousand Imperial Marines entrenched on the island and it was assaulted by one hundred-thousand Questarian Marines, supported by countless aircraft and an entire battleship squadron.

The battle had been a hard-fought, stunning victory for the Doomani III Marine Legion, a formation Maximus had personaly commanded years earlier in Inkana. It had been utter humiliation for Questaria: they had ended up abandoning their troops on Paralentum, leaving their army stranded without support or supply lines.

After that it had only been a matter of time before the Questarians all died at the hands of the Doomani...

Longleaf half-smiles as he watches the Questarian Sea Lord looking him over. He must appear an incongruous figure, clad in the tattered remains of a flightsuit over his old military non-combat uniform, the encircled dragon emblem on both shoulders standing out in a dull red rather than its usual silver, stained from years of combat. That, combined with his four days' stubble, must make him look almost uncivilised or barbaric in comparison, as though he were a native of some backwater island. Which, in some sense, Czardas is -- APOC's little skeleton in the closet, in a sense; the underlying cause of the search to protect civilisation against itself.

He looks impassively towards Riew as the latter finishes his introduction. "I must admit I've always been a bit old-fashioned. Roundly criticised by the old Alhoun administration for overly conservative views, in fact. And I didn't exactly bring her on purpose, she just seems to join me wherever I go."'

As another voice adds itself to the all-enveloping noise, Longleaf turns to its source. In the instant he has to examine said source he recognises it. Skyian President Kara Maddox never held exactly that title in his knowledge; but more than ten years ago, she had served -- if not exactly under -- at least in association with his forces, as a unit commander in Hostile Takeover Inc., the acting military of its parent conglomerate We Buy It, which had recently bought out the largest oil production and arms manufacturing facilities in Czardas and continued on its purchasing spree throughout the Kregaian War; it was said that, up until the civil war, We Buy It had owned almost a quarter of the Czardaian economy.

"Quite pleased to meet you too as well, Ms. President." Longleaf's emphasis on the title is almost a reflection of his prior knowledge of her name and actions. He looks around for a chair, and wonders what exactly happened to his pack of cigarettes. Probably ruined, by now.

President Maddox nodded to the Czardaian. "I love your cat, as lively as always, too bad she always more interested in sleeping or finding an Izistani then playing, I wish I had time to keep a pet." Voiced President Maddox slightly dishearted, "A cat or puppy would certainly make a day at the office so much easier."

Then as if she received a quick shot of caffine in the shoulder, she quickly turned to Lord Riew with renewed vigor. "Lord Riew, I believe we had quite a conversation going before being interrupted, I would like to continue that conversation somewhere quieter, would you like to accompany me?" She said the statement like it was some sort of glorious challenge, she was a strange woman indeed.

It was pretty lucky that Maddox intervened, otherwise something very damaging to Questarian-Doomani relations might have occured that night; as it happened, Riew decided, against Questarian stereotype, that honour wasn't always something worth fighting for.

However, he was quite taken aback by the offer from President Maddox, being a Questarian upper class, and if he felt like it, a womaniser, he wasn't quite used to women talking to him with that sort of tone - however, he wasn't going to show any distate that may have resulted in a smacking in typical Questarian culture.

"Of course not." he sent a sideways glance at the Doomani before finishing his drink.

"Thank you." She said sincerely as she led Riew out of ear shot of the Doomanis and other party guests.

"I see your didn't decide to fight for your countrymen's honor this time, that's good, one has to choose his fights, and a fight between you and Maximus is something APOC cannot afford at this time." Fumed Maddox as she fished another scotch from the nearby bar, she was visibly angry with the way the Doomani and Questerian had been handling themselves.

"Now, I don't believe you fully explained why you hate the Doomani's so much. Why don't you start with that, then we can move onto other subjects." She said with a slight sparkle in her eye, but maybe, just maybe, it was the scotch.

Maximus smirked as the Questarian turned his back to him, puffing his cigar profusely in the direction of the man as he left. He yawned, stretching his neck with a crack, and chuckled. He loved doing that to people, forcing them to back down from arguements through his distinguished position as Emperor of Doomingsland. He loved it even more when they didn't back down...

He turned to the Czardaian, taking the cigar out of his mouth,

"I probably don't need to introduce myself," he growled politely, smiling and extending his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.

He took a fine crystal beer mug off of a tray carried by a servant. A whole pint of Generian Black Death Vodka, as sure a way as any to get a man totally wasted. He proceeded to sip it as if it were beer. He may be an emperor but he was still a hard-drinking soldier.

Of course he was well known amongst the Czardii, having ravaged their country for the better part of a year and secured Dorium's secession from Czardas. Some of the things he had done in Czardia were simply...unspeakable, even for him. He could still hear their screams as they were roasted and eaten alive... and yet he felt no sorrow or regret for what he had done- There was a saying in Doomanum: Remorse is for the dead.

To kill an infidel was not a sin; it was the path to Heaven: Maximus fully knew and understood this, and had thus slaughtered many, many infidels that long, bloody year. For him, the war had been personal. The Czardii had waged a war of aggression on the Imperium, invading without provocation. He'd fought hard to drive them from his lands, and had pursued them back to the mudhole they called home. There, in that bloody Crusade, he had proven himself to be utterly lacking in compassion...

Riew was quite taken aback. He had never; not once, in his entire life, had a woman talk to him that way. It took him a minute or two to comprehend this. Riew was a "man of honour" - that was not accepted in some countries, in some it was looked on as foolish, on some stupid, and some normal. He rubbed his forehead.

"I'll tell you why I hate Doomanis, Miss President." Riew puffed on his pipe and closed his eyes for a moment. He looked back in to the memory and it came back to him as clear as it happened on the day of the First Battle of Paralentum, as clear as it came back some dark nights.

"On August 24th, HMS Renown started with twenty thousand young men on board. By the end of the day, she had eight thousand remaining." Riew closed his eyes again and coughed. "It was a shell to the magazine. Shitty safety precautions. Twelve thousand good men - twelve thousand young men, died because I was arrogant, because I was lazy." There was something in his eyes that seemed to say "i'm sorry".

"Some of them were fifteen - sixteen, seventeen. I let them onboard. They wanted to serve, damnit!"

It was plainly obvious that this was a matter that affected Riew deeply. After all, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of 12,000 of his own sailors.

"And you know whats worse. One of them gave their life for me. I should have died that day, damnit." he spat on the bar top and then realised what he had done, wiping it off with his sleeve. "It was my fault. But I hate them." he looked into Maddox' eyes. "I'm a coward. Its my fault, but I'm not going to face it." He turned away and puffed on his pipe again.

"I didn't want to die." he murmured.

Longleaf smiles politely as Eris returns from her tour of the ship, chewing contentedly on what looks like one of the appetizers. She curls up near Longleaf and improbably falls asleep as Maddox and Riew leave the area, apparently frightened off by the appearance of (gasp) a Czardaian, and possibly bound for horrendous scandal. His attention is arrested as the Doomanus walks up and extends a hand. "I probably don't need to introduce myself."

Longleaf's face lights up. "Ah! Emperor Maximus, is it? Most pleased to meet you." He shakes the proffered hand firmly.

Longleaf remembers Maximus, of course. In fact, Longleaf himself had witnessed Maximus leading a bloody charge during the Battle of Czarna. Maximus's hands were stained with blood; his rifle had been torn from his hands, but he was wielding a sword of some kind, which was just as effective against the confused Loyalist forces still massed around the intersection of East Fourteenth Street and UnAPS Avenue. Maximus had to have received half a dozen wounds on that day, and killed at least four times as many Czardaians himself before the Doomani had secured the block fully. Even then, in the heat of battle, Maximus had shown himself a true leader, forging ahead to fight when his troops fell back wearily, and undoubtedly boosting morale. Longleaf fondly recalled his earlier days while watching that, in such instances as the Imperial Galactican war when he personally had led an army of Czardaians in the assault against an enemy fort, eventually taking and occupying it.

Longleaf puts past history out of his mind as he continues, "So how are things in Doomingsland these days? Still crusading for righteous justice and the like, I hear." An everyday conversation between what could easily be distant acquaintances. Maximus will surely remember that Longleaf was far from hostile to the Doomani, and didn't really mind them that much at all. They might have slightly insane religious views, and advocate a slightly more imperialistic worldview, but really they aren't that different from other people. If we weren't always going around killing each other, we could conduct quite mutually profitable trade and the like...