Allanea
25-11-2007, 12:24
OOC: By its nature, this concerns Derscon, as well as any nation that has characters in it who have met Alexander Kazansky or know a lot about him. Others would find this highly boring.
IC:
Lieutenant Wilhelm von Stossel
Wilhelm was sleepy. In fact, 'sleepy' didn't quite do it justice. He had spent the last thirty-six hours as a Shift Commander – that meant his platoon was guarding some godforsaken military office complex right smack in the city center. The shifts changed every two hours – which, with three platoons, meant they had four hours of de-jure rest between shifts. De-facto, of course, they slept less. Far less.
He did not quite trust himself to drive – in fact, he seemed to be very near falling asleep as he paced out of the base. A guard saluted him as he left, and Stossel returned the salute sleepily – he was still surprised at the notion that he was now a real officer and people were now saluting him.
He stumbled into a Taggart Trains intra-city station, caught a train to De Vere County and promptly fell asleep on one of the seats, snuggling his unwieldy DRS-83 rifle as he slept. It was a blessing soldiers travelled TT lines for free -having to deal with tickets would be a terrible drag in his current state.
Three hours later he stumbled out to the platform, still reeling from lack of sleep. He felt better – but only slightly. Tea. Tea. Please, God... He paced tiredly towards a vending machine and giggled as he recognized his own family logo on a can of ice tea.
Wilhelm grinned as he felt himself wake up. Here. Three hours of sleep and some caffeine and I'm already better. Now where's everybody?
Marshal Shiunji Watanabe
The executive transport door opened and the Marshal stepped out. He elected not to wear his uniform that day, for it was far too recognizeable. Simply a set of deep blue clothing and a black cape would do for him today. He nodded to his driver. “Go now, Wallace. I'll walk home.”
“Yes, Marshal Watanabe.” - the car disappeared within minutes.
He began walking up the stairs of the De Vere County Train Station.
“Will! Here you are!” - the boy was leaning against a marble column at the station, looking utterly exhausted.
“Yes, Ma- I mean, Shiunji. I'm sorry, I'm a bit out of it. Guard duty, you see, two-to-four.”
“What kind of officer does guard duty?”
“A shift commander. Sorry, can we just find out place? I've just started to snap back to it. And we need to find the other guys.”
“Why, here they are.”
Marshal Abdullah Hassan Al-Ghazi
The man has changed a lot since he's been a Kahanistani. Not only had he lost a lot of weight – but it seemed he almost stopped being human. Strange cable ran out of the left side of his face, and his fingers made a whirring, mechanical sound as he moved them. His very voice now had a steely, machine-like ring.
And yet he was still an organic human. And as such he paced into the station and went towards the Cute Bunny Burger branch there.
Like Watanabe, he was not wearing a uniform, but a set of unwieldy powered armor painted in deep red did not make him look any kind of more sociable.
Priscilla Conde
Priscilla followed Al-Ghazi into the station. She did not wear her uniform either, but a bright-red miniskirt, deep-blue blouse that exposed practically everything that could be exposed, and high platform shoes likely would attract a lot of attention.
“So, who had the bright idea of holding a 'secret meeting' in a fast-food joint?” - she grinned as she tossed a bundle of cash onto the counter. “Ultraburgers. Four of them.”
Al-Ghazi smiled. “There are no reporters here, and these people will forget your face in five minutes. Which you know of course, little one. But now, for our issue.”
As the giant hamburgers were delivered and the Pink Bunny Cola opened, Al-Ghazi started to speak.
“As you see, Derscon is embroiled in trouble. It is possible Alex is considering intervention in an... unofficial capacity. His considerations are part of why he retired again. He doesn't want Allanea to be risked over this.” - the old Arab's voice was almost perfectly emotionless as he spoke. “That said, Alex going on an adventure of this sort is... a perfect opportunity for us, if you will, to help him with his... own troubles.”
“What do you mean?” - the other Marshal asked, before burrowing into the giant burger.
“What do I mean? God damn you, Shiunji, look at Alex, he's breaking apart!”
“He's perfectly fine.” - the pervert noted. “He is in love with the elf lady. He has always been in love with the elf lady. He will always will be and you're a moron if you think you can fix that – or that it needs fixing at all.”
“That is not the problem.” -Al-Ghazi shrugged. - “He is becoming more detached. More cruel. More... desperate. Even more insane. We need to stop him from succumbing to whatever is eating him.”
“And how do you exactly plan to do that?” - Wilhelm looked up. The idea of his mentor needing his help and not even knowing it seemed positively disturbing – even though he agreed. He had spoken to Al-Ghazi about it before. “What, find a mental clinic for demigods? That's been tried before. Vicky ended up accidentally turning him over to a sadistic madman, and making whatever is wrong with him worse. Thank you.”
“Look, here's my plan...”
Later. Much later.
There was nothing peculiar in Allanean involvement in Derscon. Simply the amount of reporters normally arriving to comment on the situation increased slightly – by perhaps two percent. Kazansky's apprentices started paying people for information about the state of the shaken, war-torn nation.
And perhaps more bizarrely, several lines of inquiry have been activated, in several nations, by anonymous benefactors seeking any and all information about Kazansky himself. Heads of state, officials, reporters who had met him were solicited for data. And yet, despite paying handsomely for interviews and comments, the benefactors remained – as before – steadfastly anonymous.
IC:
Lieutenant Wilhelm von Stossel
Wilhelm was sleepy. In fact, 'sleepy' didn't quite do it justice. He had spent the last thirty-six hours as a Shift Commander – that meant his platoon was guarding some godforsaken military office complex right smack in the city center. The shifts changed every two hours – which, with three platoons, meant they had four hours of de-jure rest between shifts. De-facto, of course, they slept less. Far less.
He did not quite trust himself to drive – in fact, he seemed to be very near falling asleep as he paced out of the base. A guard saluted him as he left, and Stossel returned the salute sleepily – he was still surprised at the notion that he was now a real officer and people were now saluting him.
He stumbled into a Taggart Trains intra-city station, caught a train to De Vere County and promptly fell asleep on one of the seats, snuggling his unwieldy DRS-83 rifle as he slept. It was a blessing soldiers travelled TT lines for free -having to deal with tickets would be a terrible drag in his current state.
Three hours later he stumbled out to the platform, still reeling from lack of sleep. He felt better – but only slightly. Tea. Tea. Please, God... He paced tiredly towards a vending machine and giggled as he recognized his own family logo on a can of ice tea.
Wilhelm grinned as he felt himself wake up. Here. Three hours of sleep and some caffeine and I'm already better. Now where's everybody?
Marshal Shiunji Watanabe
The executive transport door opened and the Marshal stepped out. He elected not to wear his uniform that day, for it was far too recognizeable. Simply a set of deep blue clothing and a black cape would do for him today. He nodded to his driver. “Go now, Wallace. I'll walk home.”
“Yes, Marshal Watanabe.” - the car disappeared within minutes.
He began walking up the stairs of the De Vere County Train Station.
“Will! Here you are!” - the boy was leaning against a marble column at the station, looking utterly exhausted.
“Yes, Ma- I mean, Shiunji. I'm sorry, I'm a bit out of it. Guard duty, you see, two-to-four.”
“What kind of officer does guard duty?”
“A shift commander. Sorry, can we just find out place? I've just started to snap back to it. And we need to find the other guys.”
“Why, here they are.”
Marshal Abdullah Hassan Al-Ghazi
The man has changed a lot since he's been a Kahanistani. Not only had he lost a lot of weight – but it seemed he almost stopped being human. Strange cable ran out of the left side of his face, and his fingers made a whirring, mechanical sound as he moved them. His very voice now had a steely, machine-like ring.
And yet he was still an organic human. And as such he paced into the station and went towards the Cute Bunny Burger branch there.
Like Watanabe, he was not wearing a uniform, but a set of unwieldy powered armor painted in deep red did not make him look any kind of more sociable.
Priscilla Conde
Priscilla followed Al-Ghazi into the station. She did not wear her uniform either, but a bright-red miniskirt, deep-blue blouse that exposed practically everything that could be exposed, and high platform shoes likely would attract a lot of attention.
“So, who had the bright idea of holding a 'secret meeting' in a fast-food joint?” - she grinned as she tossed a bundle of cash onto the counter. “Ultraburgers. Four of them.”
Al-Ghazi smiled. “There are no reporters here, and these people will forget your face in five minutes. Which you know of course, little one. But now, for our issue.”
As the giant hamburgers were delivered and the Pink Bunny Cola opened, Al-Ghazi started to speak.
“As you see, Derscon is embroiled in trouble. It is possible Alex is considering intervention in an... unofficial capacity. His considerations are part of why he retired again. He doesn't want Allanea to be risked over this.” - the old Arab's voice was almost perfectly emotionless as he spoke. “That said, Alex going on an adventure of this sort is... a perfect opportunity for us, if you will, to help him with his... own troubles.”
“What do you mean?” - the other Marshal asked, before burrowing into the giant burger.
“What do I mean? God damn you, Shiunji, look at Alex, he's breaking apart!”
“He's perfectly fine.” - the pervert noted. “He is in love with the elf lady. He has always been in love with the elf lady. He will always will be and you're a moron if you think you can fix that – or that it needs fixing at all.”
“That is not the problem.” -Al-Ghazi shrugged. - “He is becoming more detached. More cruel. More... desperate. Even more insane. We need to stop him from succumbing to whatever is eating him.”
“And how do you exactly plan to do that?” - Wilhelm looked up. The idea of his mentor needing his help and not even knowing it seemed positively disturbing – even though he agreed. He had spoken to Al-Ghazi about it before. “What, find a mental clinic for demigods? That's been tried before. Vicky ended up accidentally turning him over to a sadistic madman, and making whatever is wrong with him worse. Thank you.”
“Look, here's my plan...”
Later. Much later.
There was nothing peculiar in Allanean involvement in Derscon. Simply the amount of reporters normally arriving to comment on the situation increased slightly – by perhaps two percent. Kazansky's apprentices started paying people for information about the state of the shaken, war-torn nation.
And perhaps more bizarrely, several lines of inquiry have been activated, in several nations, by anonymous benefactors seeking any and all information about Kazansky himself. Heads of state, officials, reporters who had met him were solicited for data. And yet, despite paying handsomely for interviews and comments, the benefactors remained – as before – steadfastly anonymous.