NationStates Jolt Archive

"Welcome Welcome one and all! To the world of 183914's annual beseechment of the cosmos!" dramatic fliers read. The thin electro-magnetic pulse which was tethering them to the larger cities breaking as new ships flew towards the planet. The trading pilots cursing as they were disrupted from their usual routine, landing awkwardly as the fliers stuck to their windshields.

"We have presented here today, representatives from the four corners of our fair lands! For the mornings festivities we present you with the mysterious workings of our westernmost priests! They invite you to a show of priestly magicks, showing us how they have come to cultivate their new and fascinating breeds of Gurmtrude. Once poured into the ear you could be transported to even the last rebellion! See your departed loved ones! Anything is possible!" - This writing, on the top quarter of the page, was a deep red and extremely old fashioned Half of it was written in the older, numerical language. Obviously a translation for those still too stubborn to integrate. In extremely small print after this advertisement were the words: 'This procession will be led by Douglas Grafalgor.'

The second quarter, looking as though it had been hastily scribbled down by a child read: 'We will not harm you! Look beyond our outer shells and buy our plants! The tragoma are perfect for lighting in any smog filled garden'

A quick observation of the citizens below would have shown most of them laughing at that.

The third and fourth quarters both advertised trading opportunities between worlds, emblazoned with slogans such as: Only 63 hours available! Come see us NOW! These were written very formally, and opportunities to meet ministers were given brief mention. Home Secretary - Fifth julka cafe on the left 44:00 - 58:00 Minister of Education....and so on.

The most striking piece of information was printed in huge, constantly moving letters (also translated to numbers underneath): ALL NEW PROPOSALS TO BE DISCUSSED AT 11:00 HOURS WITH ELENA SALVATORE. And, true to its word, on breaking through the outer layer of smog covering most of the eastern hemisphere hundreds of people could be seen, standing in a huge square. Above them was a sign proclaiming: Public debate over new proposals is adjourned until tomorrow. No one seemed to paying any attention however, and all were making an excited commotion, awaiting their next debate.

OOC:Tag, may post soon.

OOC: Tag

Though the first response of many cultures to the mere mention of "Chronosia" is a vastly disorganised panic and the acceptance of imminent doom, it is not well known that there are aspects of Chronosian society who engage in benevolent trades.

The Rogue Traders, first given mandate by the Emperor Marcus De Drakan in the years before the Fall, ply the tradelanes of deep space and beyond, always in search of new worlds, new bargains, new opportunities. It was one of these vessels that now approached the world, ripe with potential. A gilded hulk, black edged in gold, it was the Sic Transit Gloria, the soverign vessel of one Captain Armand Deveroux, freshly torn from the warp in orbit of this new world.

He stood on the bridge, alone, his fingers artfully closing around the stem of a wine glass, shaking it lightly. His eyes, a deep and almost mahogony brown, played over the onyx clasp of his ring as it closed around a gleaming red jewel, pale spidery fingers entwined around the cool crystal. He brought a hand up to run through his rich black hair, teasing the strands from before his artfully formed face, as though it had been carved from marble.

Space had few finer figures, Chronosian Space held fewer beings so majestic outside of the Imperial nobility and the courts of Chronosia Prime. Purely genetically human, without augmentation or mutation. While other houses had slid into damnation, embracing decadant Chaos and Slaaneshi arts, he had instead strove to profit against adversity.

Once again, he was certain, he had succeeded.

He let his hand move, raising the glass to his lips as he gulped slowly, taking it in, savoring its flavor. He let it massage and coat his mouth, delicious in its execution, perfect in its construction. He placed the empty glass to one side, rising as a Servitor moved slowly into the room, removing it onto a silver tray with one augmetic limb, eyes blank and glassy in its face, where it had not been altered with machine.

"Open Communications" He breathed, drumming his fingers along the row of monitors and cogitators that guided his vessel.

This is Captain Armand Deveroux of the vessel Sic Transit Gloria. I come with a mandate from the Chronosian Imperium, citing my right to practice trade across all space; known and unknown.

I come in peace, to join in your celebration. Hopefully you will welcome me as you would one of your own. There is much I can bring you, and hopefully much with which you can provide me.

Requesting permission to land.

-Tag-

Science vessel KSC-334 of the New Dornalian Commissariat of Science was more simply made up. While not as elaborate as the Rogue Trader's vessel, it being originally a science vessel and thus carrying mostly scientific equipment and enough stores for a small crew, it was on a joint mission from the Commissariat of Trade, who decided to sneak on a trade mission on the ship, advertising New Dornalia's wares to these people. The action was sneaky, and crowded the ship somewhat. But it was worth it to the CoT.

The captain of the ship then, as it approached this new space, said over all comms and in all languages, "This is Captain-Doctor Jonas Rosencrantz of the New Dornalian science vessel KSC-334, operating on behalf of the Commissariats of Science and Trade respectively. We come in peace, and request permission to participate in your festivities along with any others that may come forth. We have much to offer your civilization, both scientifically and economically."

The moment the last echoes of announcement had subsided, two poorly marked, but large holes appeared on two separate point of the upper hemisphere. Although they were not outlined clearly, the smog beneath these entrances was shifting. Below the citizens, some hungry to get a closer look, some (especially those in organization) merely grunting as they pushed the crowd back. Men in uniform, some on the ground, a few with their ships hidden in the smog, noted the ships with a slight tension. The citizens did not usually travel, and as such it was their duty to guard the ignorant fools should any unwelcome visitors arrive.

Elena looked to the sky with a small smile spreading across her lips. "Welcome" she muttered to no one in particular. Always the same, she referred to them (though only in her innermost thoughts) as the boys and bitches. Having no time for ridiculous games of muscle flexing and bravado, there was a reason this day only came once a year.

"Shall we allow them?" a short, stout man rather resembling a hog was limping towards her. Elena smiled a greeting.

"Oh yes Behemouth. I think as long as we're not in danger of immediate obliteration it's going to be fun don't you?" The pig-man cast a wary eye upwards, grunted, and turned.

She shook her head. Pointing to a gentleman who was idlly gazing out of the wind her voice became sharp: You! Douglas and Katrox need to greet our guests. Individually. Understand? And nodding wistfully, he went to send the message.

______________________________________

Douglas Grafalgor, was not a happy man. 3 vials of Gurmtrude had exploded this morning, one of his priests had been caught with one of the local "girls" and now he was expected to play happy families with god knows what from god knows where!

"She can't honestl--" the man on the video screen put his hands up in a surrendering gesture, and turned off communications. After muttering as many numerical expletives as he could, as well as ensuring he was as well armed as could be, he set off. The vase that was behind him shattered.

______________________________________

Katrox's reaction couldn't have been any more different. Grinning more than a little psychotically, she grabbed the mug of brownish liquid that sat in front of her and downed it in one fell swoop. "And what are they my dear?" she cried excitedly, leaning so close to the projection she almost fell through it. The man on the other side shrugged. "Ohhhhh, never were much of a talker were you? Well, ok. And now yes?" The man nodded excitedly. "Ok then dear" and with that she blew him a kiss and left.

Outside the door a band of what can only be aptly described as ladies-in-waiting saw to her immediately. "Oh! Clothes? Well, if you insist. I personally enjoy a nice chemical breeze! No, the socks go here..."

Snickers tended to follow Katrox. Wherever it was she went.

(OOC: I'll let you guys choose who you want to meet :cool:)

a Firestorm-class Frigate that left the Fleet enters known space and launched a Pelican Dropship at the sametime send a message

#this is Imperial Isan Navy Ship Storm you have a drops heading to your surface with two members of the Imperial Family and Ten escorting Army soldiers#

The intricately designed and beautifully constructed shuttle craft slid gracefully through the firey atmosphere of the waiting world, almost like a bird gliding down towards land. Wreathed in flame, each flicker little more than rain against its beautifully decorated exterior, it slid down through the miasma of haze and smog, idling towards one of the assigned greeting places.

A hiss of hydraulics emerged from the craft as it lowered itself on squat mechanical legs. It was black and gold, much like the ship which had disgorged it, inlaid with devotional oaths and mosaics of ancient events. Here were the Chronosians leaving Terra, here the founding of Chronosia Prime.

From out of one of the gleaming hatches, strode Armand, beautiful dressed in a black dress shirt and trousers, a long black cloak covering his shoulders as it stretched down to lick at his black grox-skin boots. He was intricately jewelled with rings, elaborate curves glimmering in his ears and about his wrists as he advanced, bowing low to the somewhat manic woman who waited to greet him.

"I am Captain Armand Deveroux, a pleasure I'm sure."

A shuttle from the science vessel went down to the surface, bearing the Captain-Doctor and his small retinue of bodyguards. Simpler than the Chronosian that landed on the surface just moments before, it was painted in a simple gray color with a symbol that looked like two olive branches, a red star, and an Bohrian atomic whorl superimposed over it--the symbol of the Commissariat of Science. The Captain-Doctor himself was also decorated much more simply, with a simple uniform with some patches on it denoting his status.

Exiting the small shuttle, the Gagarin Mark II, the Captain-Doctor turned to the nearest person, a man who didn't look too eager to perform diplomatic functions. He smiled as best as he could, bowed, and extended his hand out, saying, "Greetings. I am Captain-Doctor Jonas Rosencrantz. To whom am I speaking?"

Katrox looked almost ecstatic, bounding over to the new arrivals and looking, though only for a moment, as if she might hug the newly arrived captain. The crowd around stared at the ship with rapt fascination. A few citizens stepped out of formation tentatively, as if to greet the visitors themselves.

Katrox curtsied, holding out the edges of what appeared to be a slightly worn wedding dress. A sock was placed over her right hand. Her hair had been placed (though obviously hurriedly) into a fan, so that it left her head as a peacock might use its feathers. "I am very pleased to meet you Sir." she cooed in a childlike manner. "How may we best serve you today? We have great historians waiting to hear tales. Our market place is open to all new forms of trade. We even" and at this she lowered her voice "have the finest wenches should you choose." She giggled and put one finger up to her lips in a secretive gesture. Dancing towards the crowd she seemed to almost float. For the second time today a vial of brownish liquid was extracted, and she drank.

Then turning she added "I am Katrox, the Minister of Culture here! If there's anything you need, anything at all. Please let me know!"

She stopped, suddenly, as the announcement came of a third ship. "Oh!" she squealed. Giving the stoned a hard kick with her foot what looked to be a large, metal pole protruded out of the ground. She hugged it, then pulling out a small, yellow mouthpiece she cried: "Ask them where they want to land Criminus! It seems we have more visitors"
____________________________________________________

Elena furrowed her brow. "Why have you come back?"

"Another ship m'lady" snorted the hog.
"Are we in imminent danger?"
"Our ships say no"
"Then why have you come back?"
"Do you think its wise...." he began, then obviously thinking better of the move turned and limped away again. Under his breath though Elena heard him mutter "Allowing bloody foreigners in. Who does she think she is? Bloody council...."

Elena sighed. If he wasn't such a military asset, she'd have called him a fool.

_____________________________________________________

Douglas put on his most sycophantic manner. A weird, almost lecherous smile crossed his lips as he firmly took the hand extended to him. A curt nod and his priesthood bowed their heads respectfully. "I am High Priest Douglas Grafalgor of our Westernmost regions, come to extend our hospitalities to you and your peoples." With a swift motion he withdrew, now standing beside him were 3 priests, each one with a different colored container. "Please, accept these gifts on our behalf. Our finest potions. We assure you, for the right price, we have whatever you desire on our planet. If you would like to do business, I'd be happy to show you to our lodgings. Though we do have a show on very soon. Otherwise I am sure we can escort you to a more" his smile was almost bordering on a sneer as he held his composition. Doing the dogsbody work was not his place. Why on earth was he doing this? That bitch in office didn't have the brains of a newt! "..suitable location"

Armand cast an almost bemused smile in the direction of Katrox, as though intoxicated by her almost palpable...Was madness too strong a word? Perhaps eccentricity was more apt. He raised a hand to the ground around them, as though to wave. He wasn't quite used to this, to coming to a place and being regarded with so much...Awe.

"I represent the Chronosian Imperium, in name alone of course." He paused, smiling. "I'm sure you might have heard horror stories about us Chronosians, but we're not all religious maniacs. I'm here for good, honest trade, and if you don't have that then I'm sure we can work our a dirtier deal." His smile widened into an almost impish grin.

He might seem like a stuck-up aristocratic ponce, but he knew his way around the grittier sides of culture. Hell, he'd even seen combat. Once, or twice, depending on how mnay combat servitors he had to spare...He coughed lightly, removing himself from his little reverie of thought.

"They'll hear tales, will they? But will they also tell them? I know your having a celebration, but I'll admit that I know basically nothing about you...Think you could fill me in before we get to the meat of the matter?"

the Pelican Dropship and the troops get out walking behind them was two Female in Formal Uniform, one was sixteen the other looked 24 but was much older then she looked

OCC
Formal Uniform
http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t69/zxc_047/Tessa.jpg

sixteen year old female
http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f57/Anime-piper/anime/anime%20girls/anime_girl_fav0002.jpg

24 looking female
http://blogs.starwars.com/static/img/image-selector/full/gaming/videogames/kotor/27.jpg

The crowd began to come forward more after this, a ripple of applause in greeting for the newcomers. Anxious to show their wears and hear more of the outside they clambered towards them. A bustle of excitement broke out. The daily traders of 183914 groaned. A few turned their ships around. It was no good competing today.

Katrox nodded solemnly, as if only just grasping the reality of the situation. "Of course! That was very rude of me wasn't it?" Her brow contorted into a series of knots. "Well! We're not really sure where we came from. What we do know is about..." pausing she appeared to mull it over. "I'd say 400 years ago. This," she gestured by twirling "was all chrome! And we all spoke in numbers!" She grinned and turned away again screamed: '34578 54353!'

The crowed roared back: 54353!

"The muffin is not subtle, not is it tasty. But it is all powerful! All hail the muffin! I thought it up! Its something else isn't it? But very rousing. Especially in times of war....." Positively glowing, she started towards the marketplace. Whilst they had landed in the square, a large, industrial square looking much like an airplane hanger, now it had dispersed it was obvious the crowd their wasn't that large. The marketplace was a metropolis! Large, sandstone buildings lined the street. Whilst children were kept very close to their mothers, older women peddling various wares (including an assortment of chips and ports which seemed to be the main attraction) yelled and screamed, trying to coax the citizens towards them.

Katrox gave them a contemptible look. "Then the religious peoples came!" she was no longer paying attention as to whether the new arrival was following her. "They introduced feeohnetiks! They mostly keep to the west now though. Shrewd bastards.." she spat "We're in the east here though! Lots of people. Don't go down any alleyways though. We declare you dead after 24 hours."

(OOC: Imperial, where did you land?)

(OOC: Imperial, where did you land?)

OOC as you didn't give me a place to land just make it what ever place you would have said in a message sent back to Storm which would be pass on to the dropship

"Very....Illuminating." He smiled broadly. "The muffin sounds magical, and your culture seems rather well-rounded despite phonetics." He chuckles dryly, still following her. "We're of a very different breed, long and drawn out history all the way from Terra, old Earth." He gazes out, almost lost in his thoughts.

"We were a vast Empire, a beacon of light and hope for all mankind, a unifying force bringing disparate worlds out of ignorance and superstition. But we fell from grace, became something else, something new, immense and hungry. Chaos took the very best of us, remade us...We have more power, more strength, but I wonder sometimes..." He shook his head softly, letting his hair fall about his shoulders. "Whatever the circumstances, we have to make the best of them. To prosper no matter the state of the Universe.

These...machine facets, these chips. What do they do?"

Douglas put on his most sycophantic manner. A weird, almost lecherous smile crossed his lips as he firmly took the hand extended to him. A curt nod and his priesthood bowed their heads respectfully. "I am High Priest Douglas Grafalgor of our Westernmost regions, come to extend our hospitalities to you and your peoples." With a swift motion he withdrew, now standing beside him were 3 priests, each one with a different colored container. "Please, accept these gifts on our behalf. Our finest potions. We assure you, for the right price, we have whatever you desire on our planet. If you would like to do business, I'd be happy to show you to our lodgings. Though we do have a show on very soon. Otherwise I am sure we can escort you to a more" his smile was almost bordering on a sneer as he held his composition. Doing the dogsbody work was not his place. Why on earth was he doing this? That bitch in office didn't have the brains of a newt! "..suitable location"

The Captain-Doctor accepted the gifts, and had the bodyguards stow them aboard the shuttle. Rosencrantz figured they would make excellent study subjects, and maybe excellent goods as well.

Something else got him though, and that was Douglas' attitude, which seemed almost too cheery. Well, better too cheery than grumpy, but it was still somewhat offputting, especially as he sneered almost with the last question. Rosencrantz then raised his hands and said, "Maybe I'll just see my lodgings for now. I'm eager to set up, and then get to trading and diplomacy."

He then said, inquiring about currencies as he wished to go shopping later on: "What sort of currencies do your people take? Gold? Gold-pressed latinum? Electronic credit? Universal Standard Dollars?"

Katrox smiled wryly, appreciating the solemnity of his words, if not a little impatient with them. A new hope? "Well you look like us...." she trailed off. Well, what they knew could help she supposed. But then what good would it do to know where they'd been? It was where you were that mattered!

"Oh!" Remembering herself she pulled up her sleeve. Underneath the yellowed linen she had hidden what looked to be an array of ship parts, making an arm. "Sorry, I always forget. Every year. Don't you have these?" She waved her arm, a socket visible beneath glowing lights as she did so. "Most people do. Leftovers of the numerical age. Wanna touch?" The grin was back.

"We have augmetics, bionic implants. Theres even a cult of the Machine, purging most of their flesh to get closer to their...Somewhat twisted interpretation of their Machine God." He reached out, running his fingers across the metal.

"Very interesting. I never really saw the appeal, and I never lost any limbs, I guess I've been fortunate" He flashes a quick grin. "We do look like you, theres probably a lot we could learn from each other. Except not many of the people where I come from would look like you. We value humanity, but there are prices to be paid for serving Chaos." He shrugged.

"The Numerical Age must have supplied you with much of your technology then?"

The Captain-Doctor accepted the gifts, and had the bodyguards stow them aboard the shuttle. Rosencrantz figured they would make excellent study subjects, and maybe excellent goods as well.

Something else got him though, and that was Douglas' attitude, which seemed almost too cheery. Well, better too cheery than grumpy, but it was still somewhat offputting, especially as he sneered almost with the last question. Rosencrantz then raised his hands and said, "Maybe I'll just see my lodgings for now. I'm eager to set up, and then get to trading and diplomacy."

He then said, inquiring about currencies as he wished to go shopping later on: "What sort of currencies do your people take? Gold? Gold-pressed latinum? Electronic credit? Universal Standard Dollars?"

Douglas shook his head impatiently. "We take whatever is useful. Everyone needs something." Turning and with a clap of his hands the lower priests returned once more, only this time with a small craft. It was hexagonal, and with very low sides, painted in bright red. Small tubes seemed to cover the bottom part of the craft, carrying a white, shining liquid throughout.

"Now, for you Sir" it took a lot of effort to produce the last word "we can provide our best lodgings within the temple. Its makeshift, but I think you will find it adequate. For your compatriots, I am afraid they will have to stay in the tents provided for our workers." With a curt nod of his head to the gentlemen who had assisted him he conveyed just who those workers were.

"If you will just step inside, we'll see to it that they are transported also. If you would rather they walked beside you, we may slow, however, I do have pressing business. We have yet to find a remedy to the necessity of managerial skills" he laughed at his own joke. The sound was a mere crackle, as though the muscles were ill-used.

"We have augmetics, bionic implants. Theres even a cult of the Machine, purging most of their flesh to get closer to their...Somewhat twisted interpretation of their Machine God." He reached out, running his fingers across the metal.

"Very interesting. I never really saw the appeal, and I never lost any limbs, I guess I've been fortunate" He flashes a quick grin. "We do look like you, theres probably a lot we could learn from each other. Except not many of the people where I come from would look like you. We value humanity, but there are prices to be paid for serving Chaos." He shrugged.

"The Numerical Age must have supplied you with much of your technology then?"

"I said chrome didn't I!" An exasperated sigh. "Anyway, we have quite a few common thieves here in the city. Stupid though they are, they can carry weapons. I like my arm though. This way it shines!"

They were further down the market place this time. A few jolly, bedraggled figures wished Katrox well, a few looking suspiciously at the visitor but leaving with curt nods.

She stopped outside a large, rectangular building. Nothing would have been remarkable about it except that it was completely coated in color. Various pieces of clothing, paint, food and a whole mess of other objects seemed to have been thrown at it. Through a few gaps glimpses of chrome could be seen, and suddenly Katrox looked sad. "I suppose it would've been nice. Before. They told us though, that this is where they brought people to perish. We weren't allowed colors. Or music. They didn't want us doing this!" She giggled again. "Much prettier. Is this what you mean by chaos? Don't you like knowing where everything is?"

The Captain-Doctor got onboard the transport, as did his men. Not a large group, the Dornalians found it easy to enter the transport provided for them, and they sat down in good order. The offer of housing the bodyguards in tents wasn't too bad, since they were trained to fend for themselves.

Still, Rosencrantz noted something was indeed off about his new host--almost as if he was unwanted. Could have been work-related stuff, he surmised--after all, the invitation was clear. He hid his suspicions though, as to avoid irritating the man even more than he already was.

"The concept is lovely, but I don't fancy losing myself the way some of my countrymen have." He smiles, running a hand along the smooth chrome. "Any system of repression breeds the desire to break free, to smash it into nothingness...

Every society has its revolutionary ages, its heroes." He smiles softly, almost sadly. "And thats how we grow; how we progress. We shrug off the guiding hand of fathers, and become men, women...Not children." He presses his palm fully onto the metal, closing his eyes and sighing. "You seem to have come through it alright, as a culture.

Was there much tumult? A tough transition?"

Douglas noted with derision the entire crew boarding. The craft tilted dangerously before righting itself tentatively. He was tired. It was obvious he hadn't exerted himself accordingly. Idly pulling a lever the craft sped at an almost alarming speed up and through the streets. He grinned, thinking of scaring his visitors. He tilted the craft more than he needed to around corners, narrowly missed jutting towers and balconies. Too soon for his liking however, they arrived at the makeshift temple.

Even as a temporary building it was impressive, over 10 stories of a red and black tower. The logo's of the priesthood emblazoned on tapestries which hung from the triangular roof. Approximately 1,000 tents surrounded the building, spreading out in to a flat horizon. Hundreds of young men, all wearing the same loose fitting robes, hurried about a huge clearing in the middle. It was only a dirt floor but still it was being swept, rugs were being laid down and tables set up. A few oddly shaped, metal devices were hanging as if suspended in midair around the encampment. Out of the corner of his right eye Douglas noticed a few civilians huddled around a few of his more trusted advisers. He had told them to stop that! And in plain sight!

The descent was as erratic as the journey, with dust billowing up around them. He covered his eyes quickly to shield himself. On taking them away however, a smallish man with a glazed look was standing there, staring at him.

"Oh yes! I know I have to get it done!" he snapped impatiently, spit flying from his gaping mouth. Turning to his new arrival he said sweetly: This is our Prime Minister's aid. He'll appear occasionally to torment me. But no bother, he doesn't say much, do you?" A silent pause. "Now, my men will see to your companions. Shall I show you to your rooms?"

At this the man, appearing to snap out of his trance, and came shuffling towards the Captain-Doctor. "Don't mind him, he hates everybody" he whispered. "Welcome."

Douglas either didn't hear, or didn't care, because he continued to stand waiting, his sickly smile stuck on his face.

___________________________________________________________

Katrox nodded gravely. She looked sad, picturing all those people 'lost' as Armand had said. Suddenly she shook her head violently. Pins flew everywhere and a few people yelled angrily as they were hit. "Surely! We must drink!" She held up a fresh container. Downing hers she hastily rummaged through her dress for another. On finding one she opened it and held it towards her guest. "It won't hurt, rather pleasant actually. Maybe you won't remember people being lost." Her smile was childish, but her eyes burnt with a brighter intelligence.

"There's a show on soon, if you wish to go. Otherwise there are taverns. If you wish to put forward a proposal, our leader is up there."

Douglas noted with derision the entire crew boarding. The craft tilted dangerously before righting itself tentatively. He was tired. It was obvious he hadn't exerted himself accordingly. Idly pulling a lever the craft sped at an almost alarming speed up and through the streets. He grinned, thinking of scaring his visitors. He tilted the craft more than he needed to around corners, narrowly missed jutting towers and balconies. Too soon for his liking however, they arrived at the makeshift temple.

The journey was a rough one, perhaps precipitated by the extra weight of the Dornalians. The Captain-Doctor muttered amazement at the machine as it flew automatically to its destination, seemingly devoid of a pilot or anything but a lever to make it go. He noted the conveyance on his PDA, jotting down notes as the machine flew past. His crew, of course, was too busy holding on for dear life and wondering what their host was on, considering his barely concealed sour mood.

When they landed at the spot and the odd incident (which no Dornalian cared to comment on) passed, the Captain-Doctor nodded and replied to Douglas, saying, "Sure. I'd rather not take up too much of your time." And as he said that, he felt especially convinced of that idea.....

"shu lotha planet" said the 24 looking woman to the 16 year old one was they wait

"ke lu' ka udos kyorl verve udos xal 'zil al alu rath ulu l' ship lu' p'obon mina 'zil dosib kke lu' wahven d' draeval"said the 16 year old back to her

Katrox nodded gravely. She looked sad, picturing all those people 'lost' as Armand had said. Suddenly she shook her head violently. Pins flew everywhere and a few people yelled angrily as they were hit. "Surely! We must drink!" She held up a fresh container. Downing hers she hastily rummaged through her dress for another. On finding one she opened it and held it towards her guest. "It won't hurt, rather pleasant actually. Maybe you won't remember people being lost." Her smile was childish, but her eyes burnt with a brighter intelligence.

"There's a show on soon, if you wish to go. Otherwise there are taverns. If you wish to put forward a proposal, our leader is up there."

Armand jumped back, barely avoiding the near genocidal rain of pins. He blinked lightly, almost as though he were seeing her for the first time, reassessing the madness that seemed inherent in her, before he took the first faltering step forward.

He reached out to take the container, looking at it cautiously before raising it to his nose. "What...Exactly is it?" He asked, before she continued to speak.

"A show you say? Your leader will be there, will they? I suppose I should go introduce myself. Let's go to the show then."