Whyatica
01-05-2007, 00:36
A Whyatican jet plane, after a brief stop in a Unionist airport, finally reached the skies of the Midlonian Heartland - a nation which in the recent past was an enemy of the Whyatican Empire. However, the Empire avoided war, and through the masterful political maneuverings of Paulus I, found itself rather isolated. The Whyatican Empire was no longer a signatory of the Sovereign League, nor of the Alliance for the Protection of Civilization. Although the Whyaticans continued to have friendship with it's neighbors, as well as joining the Mekugian Commonwealth, it was deemed "fucking stupid" to continue to be hostile to Midlonia.
Swadlincote, Midlonia
The plane touched down with a bit of a rocky start on the runways, the diplomat being jarred out of his brief nap by the plane shaking.
"Yo!" a gofer yelled into the area where the diplomat was pulling himself out of the crappy cot. "We're landing, Jim, get your suit on."
James Randi grumbled a bit - the man was seventy years old, and he didn't like the avante-garde attitude of some of his gofers. He was tempted to yell at the young man, but he decided against it and grabbed his business suit off a rack and changed while the plane was taxiing. He wasn't especially fond of the Midlonians, his favorite years were those where he was the official ambassador to Questaria for the Empire, and he retired at age sixty as was normal. This mission required a bit of a special touch, and the Diplomatic Corps called him back for one last job.
The plane finally stopped, with air crews bringing up a jetway and unloading the cargo. Randi slid his coat on and exited his room on the plane, nodding to the various crew members on the way and exiting the plane, where a car would hopefully be waiting for him.
Swadlincote, Midlonia
The plane touched down with a bit of a rocky start on the runways, the diplomat being jarred out of his brief nap by the plane shaking.
"Yo!" a gofer yelled into the area where the diplomat was pulling himself out of the crappy cot. "We're landing, Jim, get your suit on."
James Randi grumbled a bit - the man was seventy years old, and he didn't like the avante-garde attitude of some of his gofers. He was tempted to yell at the young man, but he decided against it and grabbed his business suit off a rack and changed while the plane was taxiing. He wasn't especially fond of the Midlonians, his favorite years were those where he was the official ambassador to Questaria for the Empire, and he retired at age sixty as was normal. This mission required a bit of a special touch, and the Diplomatic Corps called him back for one last job.
The plane finally stopped, with air crews bringing up a jetway and unloading the cargo. Randi slid his coat on and exited his room on the plane, nodding to the various crew members on the way and exiting the plane, where a car would hopefully be waiting for him.