NationStates Jolt Archive

[To join or comment, see the OOC Thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=556787)]
Courting Royalty http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/Elisa.jpg
Princess Elisa Photoshoot

Sunday - 3:20 PM Colonial Time
Colonial Intelligence Directorate
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

The colonial island is still fairly young in the world despite its burgeoning population and reputation as a hot destination in the Dominion. However, in its few short decades of existence, it has consistently been involved in one way or another in some of the nation's biggest events. In 2010, it played an unwilling host to the Dominion's most severe intelligence breach; in 2011, a mysterious sniper penetrated royal defenses and struck Crown Prince Ali with a bullet; in 2012; the Navy made news by purchasing the foreign-manufactured [Questarian] Hood class battleship and anchoring it in Tia'dar harbor; and in 2013, Eborall was part of the investigation of the Heist of the Millennium. Now, another quartet of seasons has turned and the calendar marks a new year: 2014. And this year's headline grabber, fated to dwarf all others of previous years, is Princess Elisa's twenty-fifth birthday party.

It was Sunday, six days before the event of the century, and in any other office on the island, it would be quiet and subdued. However, a Sunday was no different than any other day in Colonial Intelligence Directorate Headquarters and it was never quiet there. In fact, it was probably busier than normal due to the annual inspection by 'the Agency'. Since the 2010 espionage breach, the inspection had been extended from one day to an entire week and was carried out directly by the Director of Dominion Intelligence Operations.

Said Director, Nicholas Maestor, had just flown in by helicopter twenty minutes ago and was currently standing on the operations floor of the Directorate. It was a dark environment, but light flickered from every angle as television screens streamed live video feeds and agents worked away at computer monitors. The impressive form of the DIO Director stood straight-backed on a balcony, overlooking the ongoing dedication by the Directorate's employees. Already they had been horribly embarrassed once this decade and they were determined not to let it ever happen again. Noticing that the CID Director was off the phone and skimming through some papers on his desk, Nicholas Maestor turned from the flurry of activity and strode up several iron steps.

"Director Mayborn," he greeted the colonel in charge of the colony's chief intelligence agency.

"Director Maestor. I just got off the line with the Palantine."

Nicholas picked up a manila file and flipped open the cover. "How goes the fight?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary thus far," the CI-Director responded. "All agents have been ordered to report to duty and we're coordinating with the military and local assets. The black box," he said looking over Nicholas's shoulder to the busy floor below, "will be acting as the joint task-force HQ."

"And the Grid?" the ranking Director asked as he eyeballed the third or fourth page of the packet.

"The Grid is scheduled for a lockdown Wednesday at zero three hundred and we'll proceed with a sweep thereafter," Mayborn confirmed. "We have the Command Suite set up for your convenience..."

"Very good-" Maestor replied happily; it looked like it was shaping up to be an easy week in Eborall. But something had caught his eye as he browsed the top of the page. A picture of a woman on the television, clad in a skimpy black bikini and a body anyone would kill for. Even the respected Director wasn't beyond gawking when he saw that image - and there was no mistaking that image; it was Princess Elisa. The anchor of an entertainment 'news show' was talking about her, which wasn't odd in and of itself as the Princess drew much speculation and rumor. What was odd was that it was on in the office of the colony's highest-ranking intelligence officer.

Realization set in. "Oh fuck!"

"Sir?" Mayborn asked, startled by the exclamation.

Without responding to the inquiry, Maestor reached forward and unmuted the television...

"The Princess is turning twenty-five this Saturday and what a day it is expected to be! The Rose Gala! Though few details are readily available - the Royals are keeping the extravagant affair hush-hush until the big day - the price range for the event itself is expected to be in the ballpark of one to two BILLION dollars. The guest list is long if you're on it and short if you're not and chances are... you're not. The affair is expected to include the who's who of the Dominion: Generals, CEOs, Celebrities, and those few lucky enough to know the Princess personally. Don't count on getting a rose petal invitation...

"She has been described as breathtaking and sexually seductive, but words can barely hold a candle to her beauty. While still a Bachelorette, guys don't get your hopes up... she's dashed more men's dreams than she's been in. And that's saying something..."

The Director turned it off. "Looks like it won't be such an easy week after all..."

Colonel Mayborn paused for a moment before confirming the sentiment, "No, sir. That's why we're coordinating with the local authorities and Palantine to keep things under control. They're adding extra patrols and hospitals are keeping staffed with doctors and nurses. Hasn't been something like this since the Inaugural Ball decades back. If you're supposed to be staying in the city, I'd recommend just sleeping on the couch in the Command Suite... it'll be quieter... much quieter."


Sunday - 10:00 AM Colonial Time
Royal Palace of Corona
Messeanic Plains, Royal Colony of Eborall

While the Crown Prince (http://i23.photobucket.com/albums/b360/DMG2005/Ali.jpg) sat in the comforts of his study hidden amongst the numerous corridors of his estate, hundreds if not thousands of workers hurried about in preparation of the Rose Gala. It was still six days away, but the money spent and work necessary to ready the multi-acre palace was immense. Not to mention that security had to check and double-check everyone and everything that entered the gates. Half the five thousand man Royal Legion tasked with guarding the Crown Castle was situated at the entrance, forming an impressive display of military might and providing ample inspection. Members of the Palantine, the Royal Guard, were directing workers where to go and barring off certain areas. Although they had been searched and checked for weapons, none were getting near the royal family, especially the slightly paranoid Crown prince.

There was knock on the door followed by a creak as the Lord Advisor to the Court, Lucius Samnos the Third, poked his head. "Excuse me sir, do you require anything?"

Ali looked up from his book to his trusted advisor and friend. "No, I'm quite alright. Being cooped up in a section of the palace as large as many castles isn't actually that bad," he said playfully. "Did you know that just today I've entered four rooms that I've never seen before? It's quite startling."

Lucius chuckled slightly. The palace was overly large, but it was intended to be so that the Royals never had to leave if they chose not to - and Prince Ali often chose not to. "Well sir, I'll leave you to your dusty tomes then. Your mother will be needing some help - it's only the third hour of setting up and she's already frantic," he said as they shared a knowing smirk.

The Princess Mother, Cordelia, on the other hand, had no issues with letting her self be known. She too was hurrying around the gardens and plazas, from one building to the next, and around one venue to another. Everything was going to be perfect, and she was going to make sure of it. And why shouldn't she? It was a once in a lifetime event, no matter what Elisa thought of it, and the family treasury was certainly emptying out a few chests of treasure to pay for it. If it was the last thing she did, Cordelia was going to make the place the grandest darn palace in the world. The planning had begun over two years ago when she had a special division of WorldCorp created specifically for this task. The cherry on top of the cake was also a special order: twenty-five thousand bouquets of twenty-five roses to adorn the palace, an expensive and difficult task if they’re ever was one.


Sunday - 7:50 PM Colonial Time
The South Shores
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

Sunset on the beach was a brilliant spectacle that hundreds of tourists and locals waited all day to see. On the famous beach just off Ocean Drive, it was like being in a tropical paradise. The rising glass buildings were just a few hundred feet away, but the city seemed to be miles off. The splitting colors of the sunset reflected and glittered on the cityscape and danced across the light ocean waves. Nearly everyone on the beach sat in silence watching one of the most beautiful sights in the world.

One of those few whose eyes weren't glued on the refracting light was the tanned and toned figure of Princess Elisa. Lying in the sand on a secluded piece of the beach, the sunset's paling beauty merely bounced off her eyelids. She had seen the sight before many times and would see it again many more. While the city roared in its daily grind and with the excitement of the upcoming Rose Gala, the much sought after lady relaxed calmly alone. Sandstone walls portioned off a small thirty-by-twenty foot at one end of the beach and continued into the water at a descending height so that nobody would swim in either. There were no sight lines inside and it curved just slightly enough so that people in the water wouldn't see either. The only entrance was a tunnel that led into a private restaurant whose owner Elisa was very friendly with. In short, she had her own private section of the beach, free from the gawking public whenever she wanted. Off course there were other places she could go - in fact she had true private beaches around the island, but there was something fun about being right in the midst of everyone without them knowing.

It seemed like everyone was fussing over her celebration - her mother, her brother, her friends, her security guards... the whole island if not the country - except her. Everybody was working themselves up into a frenzy about it and it was still a week a way. The party could be fun, but then most of the people that will be there are going to be like General Granger... not like some young, hot club. Everybody would dote on her and make those comments your expected to make, but she really wasn't that type of girl. Sure she didn't mind someone's attention or their services for her, but she could certainly get along fine without them. It's just one night though, she kept reminding herself so as to not get to crazed. She was hardly involved in her own gala, which was nice but a bit scary considering the way the island was talking about it. That reminds me, I've still got to get fitted for my gown and dress... All of the finest designers in the nation if not the world had offered their services, and who could blame them with a tapestry like her body to work with...

It wasn't yelled, in fact the voice was only slightly above conversational, but it was the trained, projecting voice of someone used to being on a stage and having to have every word heard clearly in the farthest row "Ten, if you let that snake bite you, you're not going to like the results."

A faint but disctint sound- a sizzling like water on a hot iron, or an iron skillet of fresh from the grill fajitas being brought to ones table filled the air...

Th reply was more than half laughter and not trained but it was also close enough to the sandstone walls to carry clearly even above the surruss of the breaking wavelets and it was thoroughly mascline "Yah, yeah, you'll fix me right up....after you make sure the snake is o.."The word ended in a yelp of surprize that was totally inarticulate. Near miss and the unique sound ratched up a knot.

"Ah'm serious" The voice was even clearer now that its owner had moved in closer and the accent more pronounced. Rich as peach cobbler, pure Georgian steel magnolia and moonlight in the garden of good and evil it was aural crack for the ears. "That's a Sawscaled Viper and they aren't local. I'm not carrying any serum for them. Last year it produced more deaths than all the other snake bites in the world put together."

The sizzling sound decreased slightly. Ten had quickly backed off on hearing that last tidbit. He had no desire to get bit by any snake much less one that nasty. He prefered to let Punkin handle the snakes - she kenw what she was doing. "Then how did it get here?" He asked as he looked at the small snake with greater respect.

"Ah have no idea, but the bigger question is what is it doing so close to the ocean. It's not a shoreline dweller even where it's native. Go get me my bag and stick will ya'. I'll keep an eye on mister nasty here. We're lucky this wall is high and solid or he'd be through in an instant."

Ten just noddded and sprinted back up the beach to the lot where their battered Hummer was parked.

"The Princess is turning twenty-five this Saturday and what a day it is expected to be! The Rose Gala! Though few details are readily available - the Royals are keeping the extravagant affair hush-hush until the big day - the price range for the event itself is expected to be in the ballpark of one to two BILLION dollars. The guest list is long if you're on it and short if you're not and chances are... you're not. The affair is expected to include the who's who of the Dominion: Generals, CEOs, Celebrities, and those few lucky enough to know the Princess personally. Don't count on getting a rose petal invitation...

"She has been described as breathtaking and sexually seductive, but words can barely hold a candle to her beauty. While still a Bachelorette, guys don't get your hopes up... she's dashed more men's dreams than she's been in. And that's saying something..."
"Wow, that's one hot princess," Jeric remarked as he aimed his rolled-up pair of socks at the hoop nailed on the wall. He gave it a nice flick, but the sock missed the ring by more than an inch. "Shit."

"Yep, she's quite gorgeous," agreed his roommate and co-worker Bradley, picking up the sock that came to rest near his feet.

"Do tu innece me oachiavece ce?" Jeric asked in Nord-Brutlandese.

"In your dreams," Brad sneered, throwing the sock back at Jeric, who was hit right smack in the face. "In all honesty, I don't think she'll be attracted to you anyway."

"Who knows?" Jeric stood up. "I do have some masculine charms."

Brad was partially successful in restraining that boisterous laugh from escaping him. All Jeric heard from Brad was a few chuckles and a choking sound. Poor Jeric... he doesn't stand a chance, with his looks and his attitude - no way. Jeric the lonely guy can only dream. But Brad has nothing but admiration for Jeric's confidence and persistence. Damn, that guy can be pigheaded at times. If only he would change his attitude...

"What?"

Brad wiped the tears of laughter off his eyes. "Nothing," he answered. "I gotta go on a date... bye."

Jeric returned his attention to the TV as Brad closed the door shut. Damn. He should be going out on dates too... why isn't he? He aimed the sock again at the hoop. Still a miss.

8:54 AM Oblivion Standard Time
An Island villa just south of Vanesia City.

"Sir if you would only consider..." Said an Elderly voice

"Remy, I told you once and i'll tell you again, It's been my fathers dream to have this company operating on a international scale! All we need is another host country Rem, Just one more!"

"Sir, not many countries in this world require military services, nevermind afford them. Those who can afford are services have enough money to spend on their own militaries!" Said Remy the Butler

"Oh come on Rem, you know as well as I do how paranoid a person can be when threatened. All we have to do is find a nation with a problem and elect to solve it! I will not allow the Greston Family to fall into darkness, not after my father and I spent so much time bringing it back to it's former glory!"

"Master Charles, I beg you, you seriously need to reconsider. If you just keep the company based in the country."

"I won't hear another word of it Remy! Now if your done arguing with me could you please bring me a cup of tea." Said charles

Remy bowed reluctantly and walked out of the room. After he left Charles spun around in his chair and returned to searching the Internet for a country to base his military contracting company, Black mountain, into. Then he stumbled upon the Offical website of the Dominion colony Eborall.

His eyes widened and laughed an excited laugh and ran out of his room, and stumbled down the stairs screaming, "Remy, Remy, Remy, I found it, I found it!"

He ran into the kitchen out of breath where Remy stood there speechless at his young masters odd behavior.

"Eborall..." He said suddenly to his butler
"I beg your pardon sir?" Remy asked, wholly confused.
"The dominion, and the Colony of Eborall! Remy don't you see? The dominion is always looking for extra muscle. Look at the history of the place!" He said holding up a peice of paper.

"See, they had a few military slip-ups on the Island, they could be ripe for bussiness!" He said after Remy quickly examined the Paper.

"Hmm, yes, I see, Well master Charles I daresay this may work out after all." Said the Butler

"But that's not even the best part Remy old friend! In just six day's their princess is going to have a party!" Said Charles excitedly

"But sir the odds of getting into a party such as that.."

"Forget about it, I your wonderful CEO have a plan. Ok so I go in looking for Bussiness, I talk to the General's or whomever I gotta talk to, Once bussiness is done one of the more generous men may get sick or something and I could attend in his place! Come on Remy am I good or am I good?"

"Well the odds are agaisnt you but, It could work sir." Said the Butler happily.

Charles smiled Broadly and patted the Butler on the back.
"Ok I got to arrange a few things, When I call you I need you upstairs on the Double. But for now Rem just uhh.. I dunno... do whatever you do for fun around here."

"Thank you sir." The butler bowed then left the room.

10:27 Am

"REMMYYYYY!" Yelled Charles. Heavy footsteps could be heard as Remy marched hurriedly up the stairs.

"Yes sir?"

"Ok i've arranged it with the Board of Directors, I'm to go to the Island and do what I do best. You on the other hand are to deal with the company for the week." Said charles

"Me?!? But I'm just your butler."

"True but, your the only man I can trust on this. Besides you've dealt with the company when I was sick so you know, for the most part what to do."

"I will do my best sir."

"I know you will, now I want you to pack me a weeks worth of clothing, ready my jet, make sure my party clothes and surfing gear gets in the plane, and if at all possible see if you can get my lotus in their too, I hate Rentals." Said Charles

"Yes sir."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to arrange landing times with the Dominion." Said Charles excitedly. The next week was going to be fun.

To: Royal dominion Airlines, Tia'dar Dieux Airport
From: Charles Greston, CEO of Black Mountain Industries

I, Charles Greston, am Inquiring for a possible landing time for my Private Jet tomorrow. I require a landing strip be avalabile for my jet for around 10 o clock tonight (In colonial time of course.). Please name the price that is reasonable for this rather sudden inquirory. Please reply quickly.

Your Humble servant
Charles Greston

The international airport for the district of Sarrowquand City was an island of security, situated within a national nature reserve, the only way to reach it were the district trains which connected directly to the main body of the airport. One entered a train at ground level at one the megalopolis’s satellite cities and travelled through tunnels and the underground deprived of sunlight and surroundings until that person disembarked at the airport itself.

The airport was unnerving: A giant spider of a building lifted six stories into the air by great pillars, clutching to the ground by its runways; it had existed for eighty years to serve the megalopolis and to ensure both pan-dominion and international travel from the capital flowed smoothly. Within its body the hum and thrum of thousands of transients gave it the feeling of a jittering, chattering life, the-near-meeting-the-far-abroad. The foreign and the familiar jumbled together until a humble man could loose his head amidst the confusion. The Airport squatted over a glade of tropical trees, a central glass ceiling over a glass floor allowed them the light that nourished them as well as a slightly sick architectural joke which intended to destroy the sense of vertigo within a traveller for the rest of their journey and of course to celebrate the irony that in order to reach your plane you first had to descend into the tranquil clearings to the ground level runways.

Jonah Etarian-Etchells was (the buildings designers would be happy to know) thoroughly unnerved by it all. He had been a resident of the nearby industrial district to the west, Morgan, all of his life. He had thought himself accustomed to urban-scapes, that growing up within the setting of the great metropolises had adjusted him to how things were within an urbanised society but if the cities of Morgan were an archipelago of states then the megalopolis of Sarrowquand City was an inter-linked continent. A mongrel city designed to cover everything from tourism and government to industrial concerns and bio-heritage.

He had never travelled so far from home and whilst he was used to seeing so many people he was thrown off by the shear variety of the airport. So many different styles of clothing, of shapes and colours; a few travellers scarcely looked human; and if this was what it was like at only a few days ground travel from his home district what would things be like in Tia'dar Dieux.

Still he had come this far, he just had to carry on, the Grey he was supposed to be meeting was waiting for him somewhere in the airport, and he just had to meet the princess, he wasn’t sure why, but he just had to meet her.

The Grey was waiting at the terminal entrance lift on the over side of the airport. As Jonah made his way over (whilst trying not to glance down at the glass floor and the forest below him) he noticed that in addition to airport security that the Grey was flanked by one of Sarrowquand’s fabled Yellow Jackets, a representative of the most powerful and elite military forces in the Dominion. He forgot about the bureaucrat as he approached his eyes drawn to her, standing at six foot three she towered over him by a good five inches and was clad in heavy yellow and blue armour. In her hands she held a three foot shock staff, he had no doubt that behind the flowing heavy material that assumed the appearance of a cape, but was in fact more of an armoured cloak, was concealed an automatic rifle. She gazed down at him with a stern face as he stopped-cold before her: “You are Jonah Etarian-Etchells” she demanded. “Y-yeas ma’am I am” was his response and he held out his ticket and papers.

Justin was back quickly with BS kit--'the big bad snake kit-' as he liked to term it so as to very carefully keep it separate from his medical kit known simply, at least by him, as 'The Kit'. It wasn't that he didn't like snakes - he liked them in their native habitats, with him a respectable distance away. Snakes tended to take lives, The Kit saved lives and that, to him, was significantly more important.

He knew what Punkin wanted though and had her collapsible crook out and a heavy canvas drawstring bag that he had ready instants after getting back.

Punkin and the gorgeous Painted Carpet Viper (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0f/Echis-coloratus-2.jpg), one of the larger of the Sawscaled Vipers family, were still in their stand off. Though all of the Sawscaled family were highly aggressive, this one was too confused by its surroundings to leave it’s defensive posture and try to attack or escape.

Punkin took the crook in one hand and waved for Ten to back off a little more but to hold the bag open. “He’s tired but they can surprise ya if not careful,” That said she moved quickly to hook the snake. And in seconds he was in the bag, Punkin dropping the pole and quickly twirling the bag shut. She did it like a professional, and while her degree wasn't in herpetology, she had made more than a little money in the past dealing in rare snakes. “Now to take him to the local zoo.”

That caught Ten off guard. “What?”

Punkin grumped “ I can’t keep him, I’ve go to let the authorities know that that he was running loose. His bite would kill an adult easily and if a child took a strike…” She shook her head. “I don’t know how he got here, but if a shipment got breached” Snakes being transported openly, legally, were shipped in rigorously tested containers. But black-market snakes mostly weren’t.

“This is a long stretch from the airport.” Ten protested “Couldn’t he have swum ashore?”

“Even less likely.” Punkin shook her head “Salt water, ocean water, is deadly to snakes not adapted. He’s way too frisky to be in salt poisoning, even if he had just a short swim.” She didn’t mention one thought that had already crossed her mind – what if the snake had been dumped, deliberately. None of the Sawscaled vipers had pleasant personalities, and could be very hard to ‘keep’ in captivity – they were finicky eaters and prone to respiratory problems. Not to mention the potency of their venom.

“And ‘sides we didn’t come to catch snakes” She chuckled as she shared a look with her partner.

“You mean at least not that sort of snake” Ten matched her laugh and folded the crook back in to the BS kit. “So zoo, then dinner?

"Absolutely, Ah'm famished"

Royal Colony of Eborall

Howard Aura arrived at the Eborall airport. Stuck on a Boeing 787 for eight hours from Sasha was actually more fun then he suspected. Howard checked the list of cars that he wanted to see at Eborall. Howard was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Greal Special Ops. But today, he wasn't. He always liked cars and used to own a small car company until he joined the Special Ops. He grabbed a cab and headed to the car show.


OOC: Sorry for the short post. DMG, just assume there is a car show in Eborall

Sunday - 10:30 AM Colonial Time
Air Traffic Control Tower, Royal Airport
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

The stark white control tower jutting above its flat airport surroundings was filled with ordered commotion and busy workers. The flight schedule was always swamped - never a dull moment on the radar deck - which had prompted the government to pass laws requiring ultra-quiet aircraft. Royal Airport (ARC) was the third busiest airport in the Dominion, though that was a distance third behind the some ten thousand flights per hour that Viscount International Airport (VIA) experienced. Between five and ten flights landed every minute at ARC, creating a constant stream of airplanes on the twenty runways devoted to arrivals. The air traffic controllers had to keep a diligent watch on the skies from their perch and keep straight their radio contact with all the aircraft in radar range. That the Rose Gala was occurring in less than a week only worsened the only congested airport; extra flights were added, more passengers than normal were flying, and Eborall was filling up with more visitors than it had seen in many a year. As a result, the control tower was even more hectic than the chaos that it usually felt, causing stress and annoyance to run high.

Having to respond to outside calls and queries just made for a tad more work and frustration. Nonetheless, as ARCon's computer system sent the most recent message to the tower's supervisor, the weary-eyed man banged out a quick response.

To: Charles Greston, CEO of Black Mountain Industries
From: Air Traffic Control Supervisor, Royal Airport, Eborall
Subj: Landing Strip

Unfortunately Mr. Greston, the Royal Airport has no available runways for arrivals whether it is at 10 o'clock tonight or 2 in the morning. It is simply out of the question. I have, however, taken the liberty of contacting Northfield for you and they have granted you a landing time. They will maintain a window for you to land between 10 PM and 10:30 PM. It's a private airport some thirty miles northeast of here with a very pleasant drive into the city. They require a fifteen thousand dollar landing fee, but they will house your plane for you while you remain here should you wish it.

Best of Luck
Air Traffic Supervisor
ARControl Team
Royal Colony of Eborall

12:02 PM (Dominion Colonial time)
Charles looked at the e-mail, at first disapointed but then rather happy,

"Remy!?!"

Heavy footsteps where heard as the heavy man-servant trotted up the stairway. "Yes sir?"

"Is everything all packed up?"

"Quite so, sir"

"Excellent, but I need you to tell the pilot to make a slight change in destintation."

"Where to now sir?"

"Northfield airport, still on Eborall, Also inform him that our window is rather small, from 10 to half past which means we have little time to act. Inform him that I am boarding right now, as the flight to Eborall is about 10 hours long."

"Of course sir, Have an excellent trip."

"Thanks Rem, I knew I could count on you." Said charles as he hurried out the door to the car that would transport him to the airport.

several minutes later charles exited the car, and entered his private jet. After a quick cargo check, a satisfyed Charles sat in his seat.

"It's a shame I have no one but the stewardess to talk to." He said to himself.

"Maybe one day I won't be so lonely." He said as the plane lifted off the ground and into the sky. Leaving the Federation of Oblivion Far behind.

"Attention this is your captain speaking, we have now cleared Oblivion Airspace and our current destintation is the Royal colony of Eborall, the weather is clear and in perfect conditions for flying. No weather disturbances have been reported or predicted between here or Eborall, so sit back, relax, and have a good flight. We are expected to land approximatly at 9:54 PM Colonial time."

The stewardess walked up to Charles and said "Can I get you anything sir?"

"I told you mindy, call me Charles." said Charles light heartedly

"Fine can I get anything for you Charles" Said Mindy Sarcasticly.

"Just put in a movie, and make some popcorn, Mindy, It's going to be a long flight. But before that bring me my laptop, I have some banking to do."

In a matter of seconds, a Black bell Laptop was brought to Charles. He quickly thanked Mindy the stewardess, and then strated writing an E-mail to Northfield.

To: Northfield Private airport
From: Charles Greston

First off, I would like to give my thanks to you for allowing us to land in your airport, as you are undoubtably aware, we shall be arriving around 10 pm Colonial Time, weather depending. I am also aware of a substancial amount of money required for landing on your strip. Although I must also inquire as to how much it would cost to store my plane on your premisis for the week. Your payment will be wired to you as soon as storage agreements are met (as these days fuel cost more than storage it seems).

Until then I remain your humble servant,
Charles Greston

"Hey Jeric, where is Brad?" Camilla Hempstead said as she entered the door.

"Out on a date."

"What?" Camilla said in exasperation as she placed her bag on the side table near the door. "Did you tell him we needed to edit the footage we took this morning?"

"No, I forgot."

"You forgot?! Again?!"

Jeric stole a glance at Camilla. She looked harrassed and disgruntled: her hair looked as if it was devastated by a tornado, her clothes looked as if they never met an iron, and her makeup was smudged on her face. Definitely not the Camilla Hempstead you see on TV.

Camilla technically was Jeric's and Bradley's boss, being the Nord-Brutlandese state broadcaster's correspondent for Eborall and surrounding DMG colonies. Bradley Biancolli was the cameraman and video guy. Jeric Pettigrew was the driver and technical guy and runner. The three of them live in and operate from a small rented flat in one of the apartments in Tia'Dar Dieux.

They came to the colony six months ago after being assigned to it by Kevin di Storghese, bureau chief of the equally small TRNM* staff in the capital Viscount-ania. Most of the TRNM people in DMG, as in other countries, are from the grant of Timberland** or are bilingual, as news reports have to be made in both English and Nord-Brutlandese. Bradley and Camilla are half-Brute, half-English. Jeric is the only full-blooded English in the staff.

Camilla's phone rang, and she hurriedly retrieved it, flicked it open, and answered the call.

"Camilla Hempstead... yeah, just arrived home... what's that? Here? ...Kev, I'm not so sure if they'd allow us in. We'll try, but what if they don't? ...right, right. I'll see... Okay. Bye, Kev."

She folded the phone back and put it in her pocket. "Kev called. He says we need to cover something important."

"The Storg?" Jeric muttered. He and Bradley call Kevin 'the Storg'. The bureau chief in DMG absolutely hated that nickname, but he could not get himself to fire Biancolli and Pettigrew. "What does the Storg want to see on TV?"

"You know about Princess Elisa's 25th birthday bash here in Eborall?"
"Just saw it on TV, yes."
"Then we have to cover it."
"Alright! Cool!" Jeric almost jumped from the couch with joy. He would be seeing the searing hot princess! And maybe woo her too. He's going to launch his cannonade of charms and unrelenting volleys of persistence to get to her.

"There is one problem though... we have to ask for permission to cover the event."
Jeric stood up. "Then let's go get that permission!"
Camilla was puzzled. This was odd... and nice. Never had Pettigrew shown overflowing enthusiasm in covering a particular event. Well, hopefully this will help them in reporting the event. "But there's a problem... what if they didn't allow us in?"

"They'll let us in!" He said happily and grandiosely. "You are a persistent girl. We will not accept 'no' for an answer! We will get in there, whatever it takes! Let's go!"
By now, Camilla was both amused and scared. Where is the real Jeric Pettigrew? Did he eat something that caused him to change? "Hey, chill," she told him. "I need to change first, okay?"

* TRNM: Televiso Reala di Norden e Marchòbrutellia - the state broadcaster in Brutland and Norden.
** The Brute grant of Timberland, being a former British colony, is the only English-speaking grant of Brutland and Norden. Most of the people there are Protestants, unlike the Catholic Brutes (inhabitants of Brutland).

They stood for a moment admiring the magnificence of the sunset, and discretely checking to make sure that none of their fellow watchers were watching them instead of the mesmerizing view. The regulars on the beach had almost become inoculated, for Ten and Punkin had made it a habit to be on the beach at sunset nearly every day of the six moths they had already been here. The Seven C's never set anything up half way and their sublet luxury condominium over looked the beach as well. That had been important. Beaches were excellent for leaving from unobtrusively if thing went pear shaped.

Though they didn't bother checking the wall. They'd done a little asking and found that it was the property of the private restraunt at the inland edge of the beach and never used...The surrounding wall was too high for them to have tried to do a 'boost and look over', and they'd decided that it wasn't worth any sort of notice just to check it out that way. Though one moonless night Ten had done a very discrete swim around the ocean end of the wall and reported that it was not equipped with any sort of permanently emplaced spotting equipment. They'd checked it off their list and ignored it from then on.

All any one looking over the wall as Justin and Punkin left the beach, he carrying the BS kit and she the slightly writhing canvas bag, would have been the backsides of two very physically fit people.

The man was deeply tanned, with an underling bronzeness, which spoke of other than Caucasian ancestry and a way of moving that made one think of a puma pacing lithely over the sand. The father he'd never known had been a notable fancy dancer and he'd inherited that same surefootedness. His full head of long ebon hair fell to nearly the bottom of his shoulder blades. Justin Travis Noel Tenkiller (http://www.atddm.com/tnt.jpg) was only an inch shorter than his companion.

Punkin O'Dare was a treat for any to watch, even from the rear. Men tended to drool and lose their wits as they stared glassy eyed. And women? Some were simply tea green with envy and others tended to drool as much as the men did. While her figure might have been a touch more lush than was the current fancy for size zero drug waifs there was no sag nor droop nor slack skin about her. Her long, brilliantly blonde hair had been pulled up into a long, topknot style ponytail that bounced sassily with every step. At six foot one in her beach sandal flats - her legs simply didn't need the tilt of heels to put them in their best frame, she moved with equal grace but a lighter feel than Justin had.


The old but well maintained Hummer was their ‘working’ car. They actually did have a cover job this time. They photographic equipment didn’t take up that much room however and Ten quickly tucked the BS kit away while Punkin turned the engine over and got the air conditioning going. She didn’t want her capture too stressed out and the cool would help calm the still angry serpent down. As she went around to the passenger’s side she double checked the knot in the top of the bag. The viper getting loose in mid drive would be a deadly fiasco. Only Sam got to ride loose.

Sunday - 11:00 AM Colonial Time
Air Command Tower, Northfield Airport
Messeanic Plains, Royal Colony of Eborall

As opposed to the hectic scene at the Royal Airport, Northfield was a welcome relief of calmness and order. It too was experiencing much busier than normal traffic, almost all due to the Rose Gala. Many of the guests that were wealthy enough to fly in to Northfield on a private aircraft - and almost all the guests were - would be landing there sometime during the next week. It had plenty of room, acres of land without anything else in sight, to store all of the planes that landed, if not in the limited hanger space then simply parked on an unused strip of pavement. Aircraft could stand a few days in the open, especially considering the mild weather that Eborall experienced.

To: Charles Greston, CEO of Black Mountain Industries
From: Air Command Supervisor, Northfield Airport, Eborall
Subj: Landing

It is our pleasure to accommodate your landing needs and take your business off the busy hands of the public's airport. Our meteorology reports predict sunny skies and calm easterly winds, at least on our end. However, should you run into bad weather somewhere during the flight and thus be delayed, you need merely contact us and we will fit you in somewhere when you can make it, rest assured. Storage fees for an entire week are a mere five thousand dollars and the main benefit is that you need not request landing again when you wish your plane to depart. However, if it is fuel you worry about, you need fear not for oil in the Dominion is not expensive in the slightest. Technological advances along with a willing public and prudent government policy has led for numerous reasons to a lack of high demand contrasted with a high supply in our oil market. You may fill up at our airport for the standard [relatively low] cost of fuel.

We eagerly await your arrival,
North Field's Air Command Team

-----------------------

Sunday - 8:30 PM Colonial Time
Colonial Intelligence Directorate
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

For years Elisa had made it a habit to travel to the beach every day without exception and it wasn't hard to do considering the life of luxury she led and the fact that they were surrounded by... well, beach. It was often the famous South Shores where all the tourists and city dwellers spent their time in the sun, but not always. Sometimes she took a trip to the western or eastern coasts, especially when she was staying at one of her rural abodes, whether it be the palace or her other estates. Ironically, it was the lap of luxury itself, the Royal Palace of Corona, that was furthest from any of her beloved beaches. But then 'far' on the island consisted of a twenty or thirty mile drive and on the roads outside the city there was little traffic and much speed. The police didn't often patrol those roads and those that would traveling between towns often did not care to stop and ticket someone for speeding. Besides, she was the Princess and no copper could stop her.

As the sun set and then dipped below the horizon, shedding the day's last glimmer of brilliance across the rippling sea, Elisa decided it was time to split. There was little to do on the beach after the sun disappeared and the night life that appeared once darkness set was certainly not going to find her in hidden in her alcove. It did occur though that sometimes her visits to the beach and nightlife intersected. Bonfires, clambakes, and beach parties were common and something could be found every day of the week along the shore whether it was Monday evening or Friday night. Occasionally, Elisa would party either showing up as herself or hiding her identity to the best of her ability, some while difficult in the daytime, became easier at night in the darkness, with a sweatshirt obscuring her body, and intoxication overcoming the partygoers. That was more often the case when she visited the beach proper rather than her enclosure and did not care for subtlety. When she was in the right mood, rather than keeping entirely to herself, she would bask in the light of the sun and the public's attention by bathing on the main beach. Still though, while many stared and some gawked, few actually dared approach her. Some out of stupid shock of celebrity, realizing that they were much to timid and unsure than they thought, some out of fear of what would happen to them if they did, and some because they saw the distinct security personnel not too far off. When someone did approach, their treatment was as much a result of Elisa's mood as their own attitude. They could be as courteous and chivalrous as knight of Arthur's court and be turned away by the Palantine or they could be crass and rude and yet still be able to speak with her. It was anyone's guess what they would get, but most off she was able to lay in peace, relaxing like any other, though perhaps drawing an eye or two more.

Now was one of those time that she did not care about subtlety. After quickly passing through the underground tunnel between her alcove and the restaurant's hidden garage, Elisa leapt into her personalized EX-I Performance Luxury Vehicle and started the engine. The dimly lit garage was flooded with the light of the streets and the stars as inconspicuous hatch door pealed back and introduced the five million dollar car to the road's it was about to tear up. One of the nice things about the city was that it was young and thus designed and built relatively recently, which was more than could be said for most of the famous cities of the worlds. This meant that the streets were built wide for automobiles and a high population with multiple lanes and few minor streets that screwed up the flow of traffic. Most roads felt like avenues where the streams of cars moved easily and quickly, not stopping or breaking often at all, which in turn led to high speed limits and fast drivers - Elisa was just one of many. As she peeled out onto the road, the top peeled back and revealed the princess it had been covering.

Her high heel sandled-foot pressed the accelerator and the engine roared like a lion reminding all of the other creatures who was the king of the jungle. Soon she was going faster and faster, whipping her hair back in the wind-stream that the car had entered. Her destination was not far - a few hundred feet actually - but that did not stop her from revving up the engine and getting her money's worth out of its thousand-plus ponies. Instead of just dashing from The Wharf, the restaurant she used as a cover, to Paradise Hotel, the seaside hotel and condominium complex that she owned a palatial room in, Elisa made a conscious effort to make the most circuitous route possible from what was essentially one side of the road to the other. She loved driving, burning rubber, racing cocky guys in cars that couldn't possibly compare - basically anything that allowed her to use her garage full of cars. Driving in the city and on the island was so little of a hassle that even running errands, not that she did it often, could easily turn into a little joy riding.

Eventually though, her cop-alerting tear down half the roads in the city came to an end and she pulled into the hotel's grand entrance. Spending so much time coming and going had enabled her to 'know' the valets there and trust them with her car, not that it didn't help that they were all too intimidated by her, if not her security, to do anything stupid. Hardly slowing down as she zoomed up the curved entranceway, she came to a quick stop that would have been impressive for many professional stunters. And without missing a beat, she pushed the door open, stepped to the ground, and walked away without saying a word, knowing that the valet had seen her and would deal with it.

Into one of the nicest hotels in the entire country, Elisa strode through the grand entrance wearing only her form-hugging bikini and high heel sandals. The image she struck was dazzling in both her beauty and authority, for nobody but her could possibly walk through the hotel's lobby as she was with such self-assurance and poise. Eyes from all corners locked on her, but it was as if she thought she was alone, striding past them and to the elevator waiting area. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily depending on whose view it is, the call button had already been pressed and one of the elevators was opening just as she got there. On she stepped and along with her the young ten year old boy that had pressed the 'up button.'

Perhaps the forces that be had a sense of humor if not a cruel streak for a million men out of a million would have killed to be stuck in an elevator with the Princess, especially dressed as she, but it was wasted on a ten year-old child that wouldn't possibly know what to do even if he could. In or out of her four-inch heels, she towered over him with his head just about the height of her waist. Upon entering she had pressed the button for the top floor, but he, obviously taken out of his element and comfort zone, had forgotten altogether that he had even entered the elevator. As the elevator beeped and the doors slid open, he watched her walk out and then the doors closed once again, sending him back down to the lobby.

The penthouse floor, at least this end of it that was only reachable from the South Elevators, was all hers. The six elevators led to a tiny lobby area, which became a short hallway to a single door. Inside, her luxurious suite awaited, complete with anything she could need while she stayed there. It was no secret that she owned it for often she had been photographed on the balcony in an assortment of bathing suits, one more revealing than the next, but always leaving just enough to the imagination. At times during her adult life, people would camp out in a good spot below, like the roof a one-story building on the beach, in order to catch a sight of her sitting on the glass balcony. As she often did, she had become accustomed to it and she didn't care. The attention she received often delighted her and never bothered her, though on days where she felt like keeping to herself, it was not difficult considering her resources and position. Of the thousands of shots of the Princess that were plastered across the nets, that balcony was responsible for a good chunk of them, especially the kind that drew attention due to their alluring nature. And now, some poor sap, despite distance and darkness, would be adding to that collection from below and hoping to score that elusive candid of something less than a bikini that had still not surfaced despite her years giving them everything up to that. Having gotten her adrenaline running from her romp through the city, she once again decided to relax on the glass balcony and prepare for that night...

Royal Colony of Eborall

Perfect
It was a suburb of Cielo Rico his cab arrived at the Grand Piazza at its center. there was a car show already on. Maybe Howard might be able to find a Look Incorporated car, or a Executive Motors vehicle, maybe even a Western Motors if he was lucky. He quickly grabbed his bags, paid the cab driver. He was a rich man from the military business, and had millions of dollars in one of his suitcases.

Before he went to the car show, he decided to buy a newspaper first, and ask if he could find a place to stay somewhere in Eborall that night. He needed a nice luxurious hotel.

It was close to midnight before Punkin and Ten got free of the problems created by Mr. Nasty. Oh, the zoo had been only too glad to add him to their herpetological collection; they'd even given the pair life time Sustaining Patron memberships to the Eborall Zoological Society in gratitude. Then the police had become involved, though both Punkin and Ten were certain that the Tia'dar Dieux police were simply fronting for Intel rather than law enforcement. The poor snake hadn't broken any laws, but a bigger deal of it had been made that it deserved. Especially since while they'd taken an exact description of where Mr. Nasty had been captured, they hadn't insisted that either Punkin or Ten go with them to check the locale out - or the zoo's department head either. The balding, middle aged man had been in near drooling ecstasy over Sam. He hadn't looked twice at Punkin which made her an instant fangirl. And she let him hold Sam which made him an instant fanboy. They exchanged email addys and he promised to let her know how the viper was acclimating itself. Lickily all of Sam's paperwork was in order or the director might have been tempted to try and lay claim to the old fellow.

But eventually they had been thanked for their actions and waved absentmindedly on their way.

"Ten, shower, shave, and dress up." Punkin ordered as they stumbled into their spacious sublet, part of the Paradise Hotel and condominium complex. The unit shared the floor with only three other addresses, though it was not one of the larger end units. Those five bedroom Pied a Terre’s had gone for over eight million a piece, their three bedroom’s had sold for just over four and a half originally. But understated luxury was a definite understatement though Punkin and Ten scarcely noticed it. In their line of avocation one had to live the part and this was just another stage dressing for them.

An hour later they were leaving again, though this time they looked greatly different. Gone were the comfortable, casual beach wear and in its place was fit for the nightlife. Ten looked cool in European elegance, Italian specifically. His perfectly fitting suit had come of Milan’s finest ateliers, and his shoes from the same cobbler shop that provided for the pope.

Punkin (http://www.atddm.com/ss1.jpg) was a knockout in a classically styled, bias cut backless gown (http://www.atddm.com/redress1.jpg) of deep red Noil silk. It draped along her body softly and as it clung to her it had the just the faintest of luster. Her three inch heels were a delicate ankle strap design by Stuart Weitzman done in gold highlighted by tiny Swarovski crystals running along the ankle strap. A matching clutch was in one hand and her glorious golden hair tumbled past her shoulders, held back from her face by a set of small heirloom combs.

Arm and arm they did a hop and skip out of the condminmum. Though many might think other wise they had never been other than the best of friends. Ten liked his flavor of the month plan and Punkin generally didn't bother looking. Too many men could see nothing but her 'figurative' assets, and in Punkin's words "Dog's drool, and most men seem to be dogs."

In the Tia'dar Dieux, Pharamond Schverzinski looked out the window to enjoy the great view he had of the city from the balcony of his luxury suite which he found to be quite aesthetically presentable and indeed pleasurable in all aspects. He had planned to see and do much in the Royal Colony of Eborall and perhaps find himself a lover in the process; he never had married let alone had a lady at his side like his royal relatives. Indeed, he had heard of rumors that a princess was staying in the building and perhaps, he thought, he'd look into talking to her. He would love to meet her and perhaps she'd be the woman he'd want but, like all women, he'd have to play his cards right unless she was some woman who'd go with any man but he'd doubt such behaviour would appear in the ranks of royalty.

He decided to put on his jacket and go for a quick walk in the city but, as he walked through the halls of the hotel, he noticed a woman walking towards an elevator (Elisa) and he looked at her briefly and smiled a little at her. When she vanished, a part of him wanted to see her again; he did find her to be attractive. Perhaps, he thought, he'd see her again. He began to forget about her as he walked outside but would soon find out that some women can't just be forgotten about so easily.

OOC: I'm trying to have Pharamond occassionally see Elisa in the hotel before he attempts to talk to her and so forth. I hope that is alright.

10:01 PM Colonial Time
The skies above Eborall

"Attention Northfield Airways, this is India Gulf niner-niner landing on airstrip two in approximatly three minutes" Said the co-pilot

"Attention this is your captain speaking, we are preparing to make a descent into Eborall, please fasten your seat belts and prepare for landing."

"Excellent!" Said Charles "Now we can show the world what were made of dad." He then bowed his head and sent a prayer to his dead father.

Charles' Father was the kind of man who fought for what he belived in. When Oblivion was held hostage to a Radical Terrorist Group in was his father who formed a resistance to free the nation.

When he was younger Charles thought about what his father had done for the nation and found a way to honor it, by joining the Military and then Recently, opening his own Private Contracting bussiness.

10:09 PM

The plane touched down on smooth asphalt and quickly lumbered to it's hangar. When Charles stepped out he sucked in a deep breath of that fresh Island air. When the crewman came to unload the plane he told them just to put everything in his lotus.

As he walked towards the Terminal he was greeted by two men from the Airways. He warmly shook their hands and said "Thank you, Gentlemen for letting my plane to land in your prestegious airport, If I recall we have some buissness to adress."

OOC: Sorry bout kinda RPing ur guys DMG it just seemed to fit in with the post.

Justin had called ahead to have their 'impress the guests' car brought around. The Seven Seas had shipped in three vehicles for their use and they had nearly fallen down laughing at this one until they realized what it really was, and what it really could do... and that was no laughing matter.

And the tiny patch discretely placed on the front windshield, told an even more interesting story.

They exited the elevator and crossed the lobby turning heads turning heads every step along the way. Punkin was perfectly at home in three inch heels - -when one has spent hours on stage rehearsing and performing in them, as she had, it becomes second nature - and they gave her stride a subtly sensuous glide that enhanced her already statuesque beauty.

While she didn't appreciate having her not inconsiderable intelligence dismissed; which could rouse her to a fury as few other things could -she didn't mind playing up her looks when it was necessary. She even enjoyed it, at times. And tonight she felt good, looked incredible, knew it and didn't mind showing it off.

She returned the smiles and greetings of fellow resident they had been careful to come to know. Travis just smiled and nodded - he was having fun watching Punkin work the crowd. The couple moved through the crowd with much the same air as Elisa had a few hours earlier. They may not have been royalty, but both were used to- Punkin much more so than Justin – having expectant eyes upon them.

Punkin might have grown up poorer than a church mouse, but she was from an astoundingly long line of purely Southern gentility yet some how she was always very approachable. She was genuinely good hearted and interested in people - and others seemed to subconsciously recognize those qualities.


Justin was just good at faking it and his thoughts on the matter were ‘that it’s a lot easier than doing patch up work while in the open under fire from hopped up Al Que crazies’. While he was a a very dangerous man he never had give on the ‘vibes’ that many an operator had.

But when they stepped out into the cool midnight air at the valet’s desk where their vehicle was waiting, they turned heads and drew second glances for an entirely different reason...

It was a one of a kind, completely handcrafted...

http://img292.imageshack.us/img292/4175/3amigoslimowl0.jpg

and the patch http://www.atddm.com/ptmore.gif


As the terrible trio put it...

"No it's not the one from England. We had it done special - a totally unique black Ferrari 360 Modena carbon fibre stretch limousine and is the fastest limo in the world. It's twenty three feet long, has 450bhp and achieves 0-60mph in less than six seconds and has a top speed of 180mph. And thats despite the armor hidden under that carbon fiber, the run flat tires and the hidden storage spaces tucked here, there and every where."

"It rides two up front and has seating for three in the back, two full luxury sort of seats, but most of the extra space is taken up by the one that folds down into a bed - you know like they have on the those super deluxe airlines now, a mini fridge, Monsoon stereo system with 11 speakers, sub-woofer and amplifier, a 'floating' workspace for the custom laptop computer, several vanity mirrors and the wetbar..."

"An don't forget that gps thingy, and the heavenly uplink...the silk hand-woven carpeting, the hand stitched leather of the seats and the bed linens are one thousand thread count Pima cotton sateen. "

It handled surprisingly well and it was supposed to turn heads and with Justin handing Punkin regally into the rear passenger side gull wing – with an astonishingly long length of elegant leg showing- one wasn't sure which - if not both - the droolers were salivating over.

He managed to hide his laughter until he was behind the wheel. Then, as they never could help it, both broke out into laughter. After a few moments of mutual chuckles, he put the limo in gear and eased away from the Paradise Hotel.

"So what's the battleplan?" Jeric Pettigrew asked as he heard Camilla come out of her room. Without looking away from the TV, he continued, "Where would we be going?"
"Universal News Enterprises," Camilla Hempstead answered as she went down the half-flight of stairs, her heels tapping noisily on the wooden steps.
"Where is that? Do we... " Jeric's voice trailed as he turned to look at Camilla. "We're asking permission. We're not seducing anyone."

Camilla Hempstead was dressed to kill. She was wearing a little black dress (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_black_dress) with a plunging neckline that tantalizingly revealed her cleavage. As a bonus to any gawker, the shoulders of the dress were made of lace. The hem of the dress reached up to her mid-thigh, showing plenty of the legs.

Her blond hair was styled in an over-the-head braid*, she put on some makeup, just enough to conceal those nasty eyebags. Her lips were painted in a seductive red color... if only Jeric didn't know Camilla, he sure would've come after her too.

Jeric Pettigrew, too, was dressed up. Camilla told him to dress up smartly and decently; that way, whoever really grants those permissions, they can really use some sex appeal. She intended to use Jeric as the sex appeal weapon should the person handlign their request was a female. Too bad Bradley was incommunicado. He was better-looking and better-dressing.

But Pettigrew was not that bad. She sized him up and judged him and his outfit as passable. He wore a black denim jacket over a blue polo shirt (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polo_shirt) that was loose fitting (presumably to conceal his slight beer belly), black cargo pants, and his best pair of sneakers. Stylish, almost.

Camilla resisted the temptation to groom Pettigrew's face. That pale complexion needed some brightening. Jeric isn't butt-ugly, but he isn't drop-dead handsome either. He still has some baby fat on his cheeks, which makes him kinda cute. His black hair was styled standing up in a mess of spikes. And then those creepy eyes. Jeric has seemingly unnatural green eyes, which can be scary if you look straight at it.

At six-foot-three-inches Jeric Pettigrew is like a big cute bear of a guy. Cute. Not handsome, cute. Looks every bit huggable, until the bear becomes a snarky mean pighead or a sore tantrum-throwing loser. When that comes, Camilla would wish she could shoot the bear with a submachine gun.

"Yes we are seducing someone," Camilla told him. "And will you bring your sex appeal, please?" She chuckled, and then added, "if you have some." She couldn't resist throwing the barb.
Jeric grunted, scowling at Camilla. The bear was getting irritable, but he couldn't afford to be that right now, especially with his objective in mind. "Of course, I have lots of that sex appeal," he said magnanimously.
"Then let's go."

Universal News Enterprises
Jeric Pattigrew parked the car in front of the Universal News Enterprises' headquarters in Tia'dar Dieux. The two got out of the car. "Why here?" he asked.

"They handle all the news here. I reckon this is the best place to start."
"What if they just give us some footage to edit?" Scenarios played in his head. If that happens, then he won't get to meet the Princess. "Why don't we ask the royal family instead?"
"That's later, if they don't allow us," Camilla said as she trudged the steps into the building's front door. "Our appeals court, if you know what I mean."

Pettigrew followed Hempstead to the front desk. "Good morning, I am Camilla Hempstead, reporter for the Royal Television of Brutland and Norden. Where could we get permissions to cover events?"

* Like the iconic hairstyle of Yulia Tymoshenko (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yulia_Tymoshenko).

Once they were well outside the environs of Tia'dar Dieux, Justin let the Modena open up. In the back seat Punkin whooped as she flicked open the cell phone and initiated the 'heavenly uplink' - the full service,and fully encrypted,satellite uplink courtesy of Tanaaran GlobalServe. TGS was one of the most reputable satellite uplink providers about.

"Hey Shug, just wanted to let you know we're green to go, last check still show the empty roost leased by mister wrong. He's arriving tomorrow according to the latest, as well, and the present has been deposited." Punkin finished the message and sat back to enjoy the ride - though she did wish she was driving.

The one off car had finished a respectable third in the Great Escape Rally last year and for something that stretched a full twenty three feet it was a blast to drive. Though she honestly had to admit that she wouldn't have wated to be the one to take it though the Tail of the Dragon. That was just too twisty for even most 'normal' sized car, much less a stretch limo.

Justin drove for about an hour, pushing the big vehicle to it's top speed whenever the road condtions allowed it - and a few times that would have been labeled dicy. But they both enjoyed the added spice of danger and Punkin moved up to the seat closest behind the driver to enjoy it even more. She would insist on driving next time.

They stayed to the back roads that they'd discovered weren't well policed. And eventually motored much more sedately back into the city, heading for one of the all night hot spots that they had found to have a most acceptable chef. By two thirty they were seated at a high profile table and were nibbling on Spanish style tapas.

Sunday - 1:48 PM Colonial Time
The Grand Piazza, Cielo Rico
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

In a normal city or even in Tia'dar itself, asking for an up-end locale to stay the night at a newspaper stand would get a rude response or even none at all. But such was not the way in the gold brick streets of the suburb, Cielo Rico. Where the rich stayed, they stayed in luxury and that meant even the neighborhood newspaper stand was highly valued and its attendant spoke in a refined and educated accent.

"Well, I'll tell you there is no place here to stay tonight... or any night for that matter," the attendant responded about getting a room in the suburb as he took the money for the newspaper. It was extremely exclusive, gated off from the rest of the city and there certainly were no hotels. "But in the city major there are plenty of fine locations depending on the coin you are willing to part from. "The SeaSide is a nice hotel that literally sits on the water near the southern shores. Or if you want slightly more expensive, they say the Mirage is quite the luxury for a night. However, depending on how many zeroes your bank account has, there is a hotel known to the rich and famous as Paradise - nicknamed the Paparazzi's Paradise for obvious reasons - but I wouldn't count on getting a room there... they're often book months in advance. Anyhow, all of those would be quite nice."

He paused a moment as he handed Howard a map with the three south shore locations circled. Smiling, "Do you require anything else?"

-----------------------

Sunday - 7:25 PM Colonial Time
Universal News Enterprises Local Headquarters
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

The receptionist at the front desk, a young lady of about twenty-five with her blonde hair pulled back behind her head in a ponytail, looked up and was slightly surprised to see the sharply dressed duo... well, at least the way Camilla was dressed up. It was certainly the kind of city where you could wear a little black dress anytime of day, but still such dress was not common in a workplace.

"The Foreign Correspondents Desk is on the third floor. But the Desk Chief, Larry Bernardson, will probably be checking out for the night soon, so I'd hurry up there," she said politely. "Though, if you want permission for something really big," she began to add with a hint of understanding in her voice, "catching him as he is just locking up his office might not be the worst thing. He's got a family and all, and I'm sure he'll be wanting to get home soon considering how late he has been working recently due to... future events. Probably won't be in the mood to argue much." With a nod of her head to the left, she indicated that they should get going up the elevators before it was too late.

As they spoke in the lobby, Larry Bernardson, though not the last one to leave that night, was certainly one of the later ones packing up. He was gathering his briefcase together as he impatiently finished up a phone call with a foreign bureau chief. "No, no, no..." he said with a growing voice into the phone. "That's final. I can't do anymore." Without waiting for the protests coming through the other end of the phone, he put the receiver down on his desk and grabbed his briefcase. He was already halfway to the elevators when he spun quick as a whip on his heels, remembering that he was forgetting something. He rushed back to his office, unlocked the door with a twist of his key, and grabbed the bouquet of flowers he had his secretary pick up. A weeks worth of late nights and all-nighters was going to be a large debt to repay his wife...

-----------------------

Sunday - 9:30 PM Colonial Time
Colonial Intelligence Directorate
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

There was a quick rapping on the glass window of Director Mayborn's elevated office. Sitting behind his desk, the former army colonel peaked over his glasses and silently waved the knocking desk agent in. As the agent opened the door and stepped in, Mayborn held up his hand without looking over. He was in the middle of something - something apparently important and irking by the tone of his voice.

"Hold on, just hold on one second. You are telling me... you lost her?" the pissed off Director asked incredulously.

"Yes sir, I apologize again, but I assure you it was just for a moment."

"A moment! A moment!?! She is the damn Princess of Eborall and you say it was just for a moment! Do you know how long it takes for someone to get kidnapped...? Or killed??" There was silence from the other end of the videophone. "A GOD DAMN MOMENT!" He yelled furiously at the screen.

A moment later, apparently having vented his anger, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

Thinking incorrectly it was a good time to speak, the Palantine Guardian on the other end decided to pipe up in his own defense. "Sir, she was driving insanely. We would've got someone killed trying to keep up. So we alerted the locals and went back to Paradise to wait. I swear she drove up no more than an hour later... probably half an hour-"

"Shut up. Lose her again and I'll have your ass filing rolodex cards back in 1963."

The screen went black as he ended the call and once again rubbed the bridge of his nose while squeezing his eyes shut. For two long moments, he said nothing, before finally remembering Agent Isaacson was standing in the office waiting. Without looking up or leaning forward, he called him over to his desk, "Yes, what is it?"

Agent Isaacson quickly scooted over to his desk, hoping not to receive any of the wrath he had just seen, and handed the Director a small file with only a few papers inside. Mayborn took the brown file in one hand, opened the cover to skim through it, but instead just closed it and dropped it heavily on the desktop. "Just what is it?"

"Sir, there was a little incident today... A couple at the south end of the beach found a snake slithering about it, so they brought it to the zoo. The warden just called it in a moment ago... said he called as soon as he saw what it was - a Painted Carpet Viper..."

Looking tired and bored, Mayborn almost didn't have the energy to say it. "So...?"

"So, the Painted Carpet Viper is very aggressive and extremely venomous..."

"How venomous?"

Isaacson paused for a moment as the two men locked stares. He turned his body slightly and pointed to a man who was just getting out of his seat. "See Agent Maxwell there?" he asked. "He's six-six, two-fifty... he'd die... within five minutes."

"Well I will inform Agent Maxwell to stay away from the beach then," the Director replied dryly. Often he became sarcastic when tired and annoyed, especially when one of his agents was trying to lead him along the path to enlightenment rather than tell him the magic answer.

"Sir, the Painted Carpet Viper isn't native to the island, its not part of any of the natural collections, it couldn't have swam here, and nobody is licensed to import or handle them." Another pause as he waited for the Director to process the information and arrive at the conclusion, a direction that the Director was certainly not in the mood to go along with. "It was smuggled!"

"Well, splendid. We've arrived at the end of our saga, Frodo. Call the Port Authority and have them look into it..."

"Sir-"

"What, there's more?" he interrupted looking sardonically bewildered.

"Sir, the warden said he had the locals with him too... you know, just the regular ones that keep a watch on the zoo. Well, they were sitting in their patrol car no more than twenty feet away and they called in a Level One Code 372."

"Who?"

"They match descriptions of members of the Seven Seas..."

A pause.

"Fuck."

Once again he was rubbing the bridge of his nose. What a day it had been and not even ten o'clock yet. This city never slept, crime never slept, and the colonel was about to never sleep.

"Have the warden keep them there and send a pair of agents down there to check things out..."

"Yes sir," Isaacson said as he spun quickly to get right on it.

"Wait a moment," the Director called, bringing the agent to a stiff halt. "Have them dressed as dock cops," Port Authority officers, "looking into the matter. We don't want them to know we're onto them yet. Oh, and inform Director Maestor as to their presence, I'm sure it'll just make his day..."

-----------------------

Sunday - 10:10 PM Colonial Time
Runway Tarmac, Royal Airport
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

"Greetings," responded one of the men to Charles as he gripped his hand in a tight shake. He was large, a good deal over six feet and with a sizable body, and as the other man remained silent he was clearly the air traffic control supervisor of the airport. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We've been getting a bunch of people in your situation recently. The state airport is overburdened with all of the additional flights, so those that can pay... well, we handle a little of the extra," he said with a slight chuckle. "And those that can't, unfortunately have to land elsewhere and boat over to the isle. Long ride, not much fun."

The other man, a little shrimpy and dorky in comparison, cleared his throat slightly as the boss carried on.

"Right, right. Down to businesses. We've got to get this plane off the runway with twenty minutes. So..." He looked down at the clipboard the shorter man was handing to him. "Here is all the necessary paperwork. Just sign pages one, three, and seven." Once said signing was done, he took the clipboard back and handed him a tiny packet of information. "In there you will find the passcode to enter the airport's tarmac, a key for your plane's hangar - hangar eleven - and the takeoff code for your departure. As long as the appropriate fees are paid by the end of the week, you will be free to leave as you will. This contract outlines the additional fees if said deadline is not met, but I'm sure that won't be an issue.

"And that is about it. You have a good day and a pleasant stay here and we'll keep your plane safe and sound."

-----------------------

Sunday - 12:00 PM Colonial Time
Royal Palace of Corona
Messeanic Plains, Royal Colony of Eborall

Midnight struck across the land, welcomed to the isle by a single bell tower at the red-walled abbey of Saint Nietzsche. The mighty strokes of the clapper rang out across the fields, echoing off the hills, and rolling into the city like a deafening thunderclap. Even the Royal Palace's hardened walls laid down arms for the ripples of the midnight strokes, howling down the stone corridors and reaching the ears of the Crown Prince.

In the room he had been secluded too for the preparations, he sat before a roaring fire in chair that had formed to his body and read aloud to himself.

"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash..."

Ali paused as he heard the chimes invite Monday's wee hours to the Palace grounds. Lucky, he thought of the poem's character, at least his clatter is bringing him presents. Mine is just making a mess of the place. It was half true. Not so much of a mess as a billion dollar party, but still to Ali it was a clatter that was keeping him awake. The preparations for the Rose Gala were not stopping for any man or mechanism of God, even night's black blanket. The workers, taking shifts to work all day and all week long, continued as diligently as before following the instructions of the event planners and overseers. If the party was to be as regal and outrageous as was to be expected, it was going to take every second of the next five days to prepare.

"When was it last that night actually brought rest to this island?" he wondered aloud. "Perhaps long before we arrived, but certainly not since then..."

-----------------------

Monday - 1:00 AM Colonial Time
Paradise Hotel, South Shore
Messeanic Plains, Royal Colony of Eborall

Somewhere between the time she arrived back in her room and about eleven o'clock, Elisa had fallen asleep under the moonlight on her glass balcony - a shot that would no doubt be plastered across the Internet and on the morning tabloids' "Princess Watch." It was a nice two or so hour nap that she was badly in need of even though she had been lying on the beach for hours earlier drifting in and out of consciousness. Something about lying in the sun was as tiring as it was warming, whether asleep or not. But then around one in the morning, soon to be awake anyway, a commotion drifted up to her balcony on the cool sea breeze and stirred her from her catnap. Something was happening below.

Gracefully, she stretched in the lounge chair where she had slumbered and wiped the post-nap weariness out of her eyes. Reaching over to her side, she slipped her hands in a bowl of lukewarm water and splashed it on her face before toweling off and standing up. Her feet stepped across the crystal clear glass floor, a sensation near walking on air itself, and carried her to the balcony's edge where she leaned over for a better view of the hotel's front entrance.

On what was effectively a catwalk considering the band of photographers lurking there day and night, a considerable crowd had gathered. Some were the aforementioned photographers, snapping away with bright flashes a hundred pictures a minute, but most of the others were simply bystanders walking through the hotel's lobby or along the sidewalk when something gripping drew their attention away and caused their legs to grow weak and forget how to walk. It was not the Princess this time, Elisa, for one, could be sure of that.

A woman... and a man... and a limo? she thought to herself as she tried to discover what the source of the late night commotion was. The height made it hard to get many details, but the crowd was definitely salivating over the couple. Or maybe just a woman... is that her driver? she wondered as Justin helped Punkin into the back and then climbed into the driver's seat. Quite impressive. It was indeed an impressive sight for the Princess, considering she was generally at the center of them looking out rather than one of the bystanders on the edge looking in, but it did not hold her interest long. As the limo pulled off, she turned from balcony wall and strode back into her plush room. A moment later, a black sedan parked across from the hotel pulled a u-turn and followed the limo at a distance.

Once inside the safety of her room, Elisa pulled off the black bikini that had gripped her body tightly for half a day and then fell back onto her bed. It was late, or early depending on your viewpoint, and now a single question remained: Do I go out or fall asleep? She closed her eyes as she thought, and so easily she could've dozed off right there in the comforts of her silk sheets. No. There'll be plenty of time for sleep later. This is the first night of the Week of Roses, I have to do something...

-----------------------

Monday - 2:05 AM Colonial Time
Gemstone Club, Heart of the City
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

One of the hottest clubs in the city, visited by celebs and celebutantes alike, there was a line six hundred strong waiting to get in. It was a nightly occurrence regardless of the day of week - even Sunday nights - and near ninety percent of them would never get in. As a result, parties often began in the line itself with drinks and music blaring in the club district's heart. Generally, even though they would not get in, the people would have a good time partying in the street. However, tonight was not going to be one of those nights, not after they saw who was about to pull up.

A single car, red hot and flooring it right to the club entrance until coming to a screeching halt. Two women got out, both nearing if not already at six feet in their heels, dressed to kill. The passenger in the car would be the type of girl you would describe more as extremely pretty rather than scorching hot, but her blonde hair and red mini-dress did strike quite the figure. However, the real roar of the crowd came when they saw the driver turn around and stride gracefully and yet powerfully towards the club door. The Princess was dressed in a slightly see-through black mini-dress with a plunging neckline, and the hint of matching gold panties and bra. Everyone was going crazy, and the stone barriers holding them in-line needed the backup of six bouncers to be kept from tipping. But just as quickly as she appeared from the darkness of the night, she disappeared into the club's exclusive interior...

Sunday - 10:11 PM Colonial Time
Runway Tarmac, Royal Airport
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

"Thank you Gentlemen," Charles said as he firmly shook each man's hand and took the Information and keys.

"I will return tomorrow to pay the nessicary fees, at around, say 1:30."

Charles Walked out of the terminal and jumped back in the plane. It slowly rumbled towards Hangar Eleven. Once they reached it, Charles again clambered out of the plane and opened the hangar with the key he was given. With the Plane inside, he began unloading his luggage.

When everything was done Charles said to his flight crew. "Ok, we won't be leaving for at least a week. I want you to call yourselves a cab and find a nice hotel to spend the week in," He handed each of them 5000 dollars and said "Go nuts."

Charles hopped into his Black lotus and tore down the airstrip and on to the highway. Windows open and wind whistling through his hair, his car screamed down the highway.

Just outside city of Tia'dar Dieux
Royal Colony of Eborall
Sunday 12:19 AM
When he had nearly reached Tia'dar Dieux Charles opened his cell phone and dialed the number for the Seaside hotel. He slowed down when the line connected.

"Hello, I would like to reserve a room for tonight and the next week and a half, do you have anything avalible?"

OOC: heres the car except it's black http://www.zercustoms.com/car-show/albums/userpics/10001/Lotus-Europa.jpg

Sunday - 1:48 PM Colonial Time
The Grand Piazza, Cielo Rico
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

In a normal city or even in Tia'dar itself, asking for an up-end locale to stay the night at a newspaper stand would get a rude response or even none at all. But such was not the way in the gold brick streets of the suburb, Cielo Rico. Where the rich stayed, they stayed in luxury and that meant even the neighborhood newspaper stand was highly valued and its attendant spoke in a refined and educated accent.

"Well, I'll tell you there is no place here to stay tonight... or any night for that matter," the attendant responded about getting a room in the suburb as he took the money for the newspaper. It was extremely exclusive, gated off from the rest of the city and there certainly were no hotels. "But in the city major there are plenty of fine locations depending on the coin you are willing to part from. "The SeaSide is a nice hotel that literally sits on the water near the southern shores. Or if you want slightly more expensive, they say the Mirage is quite the luxury for a night. However, depending on how many zeroes your bank account has, there is a hotel known to the rich and famous as Paradise - nicknamed the Paparazzi's Paradise for obvious reasons - but I wouldn't count on getting a room there... they're often book months in advance. Anyhow, all of those would be quite nice."

He paused a moment as he handed Howard a map with the three south shore locations circled. Smiling, "Do you require anything else?"


Royal Colony of Eborall

That depends on how many zeros I have. Howard's father was the third richest man in Greal. Now Howard had recently inherited tens of billions of dollars. Money was no problem, it was getting a room for the night. SEaSide and Paradise sounded fine. That was on the top of his list now, getting a place to stay.
"I require nothing else, thank you for your help." said Howard, then he left the newspaper stand and headed for his car (http://www.shoppingblog.com/pics/lamborghinidarkknight.gif). He drove down to Paradise first. Howard arrived in time to see a limo drive off and flashes of photographers.
This certainly does attract celebrities and rich people, hopefully, there was room....

Sunday - 7:25 PM Colonial Time
Universal News Enterprises Local Headquarters
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

The receptionist at the front desk, a young lady of about twenty-five with her blonde hair pulled back behind her head in a ponytail, looked up and was slightly surprised to see the sharply dressed duo... well, at least the way Camilla was dressed up. It was certainly the kind of city where you could wear a little black dress anytime of day, but still such dress was not common in a workplace.

"The Foreign Correspondents Desk is on the third floor. But the Desk Chief, Larry Bernardson, will probably be checking out for the night soon, so I'd hurry up there," she said politely. "Though, if you want permission for something really big," she began to add with a hint of understanding in her voice, "catching him as he is just locking up his office might not be the worst thing. He's got a family and all, and I'm sure he'll be wanting to get home soon considering how late he has been working recently due to... future events. Probably won't be in the mood to argue much." With a nod of her head to the left, she indicated that they should get going up the elevators before it was too late.

As they spoke in the lobby, Larry Bernardson, though not the last one to leave that night, was certainly one of the later ones packing up. He was gathering his briefcase together as he impatiently finished up a phone call with a foreign bureau chief. "No, no, no..." he said with a growing voice into the phone. "That's final. I can't do anymore." Without waiting for the protests coming through the other end of the phone, he put the receiver down on his desk and grabbed his briefcase. He was already halfway to the elevators when he spun quick as a whip on his heels, remembering that he was forgetting something. He rushed back to his office, unlocked the door with a twist of his key, and grabbed the bouquet of flowers he had his secretary pick up. A weeks worth of late nights and all-nighters was going to be a large debt to repay his wife...
"Thank you," Camilla said with her trademark smile. She slightly dragged Pettigrew to the elevator, with him busy ogling secretly at the lovely receptionist. "Noi ici quale dessecche!" She hissed at Pettigrew.

The elevator rang its bell and the door opened. The two rushed into the elevator; and Hempstead pressed "3" and then the "Close" button in rapid succession. After what seemed to be forever for Camilla, the elevator reached the third floor, and they rushed out to find where the Foreign Correspondents Desk was. The corridors were nearly devoid of people, reminding her that it was the late closing hour for most offices. Scanning the area, she set her sights on a man carrying a bouquet of flowers rushing towards the elevator. Perhaps she can ask...

Summoning her allure and appeal, she paced down the corridor to meet the man. "Um, excuse me," she said as she slightly blocked the man's path in her journalistically ingrained skill of holding up her interviewees so as to extract soundbites. "I am looking for Mr. Larry Bernardson of the Foreign Correspondents Desk. Do you know where I might find him?"

Sunday - 7:30 PM Colonial Time
Universal News Enterprises Local Headquarters
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

"Um, excuse me. I am looking for Mr. Larry Bernardson of the Foreign Correspondents Desk. Do you know where I might find him?"

Larry stood there for a moment looking back at the lady who had just asked for directions to... his very self. Considering her beauty and seductive allure, one could've easily taken it as staring or even ogling, but it was not. He was a faithful man, he loved his wife, and he was deaf, dumb, and blind to other any other woman's sexuality. No, instead he was studying and judging - using his wisdom, experience, and journalistic ability to determine the best course of action for him.

There was the affirmative answer - Yes, right in front of you - or the negative answer - No, no idea - and then there was everything in between. And while the receptionist was quite right about him wanting to get home to his family and probably not arguing much, that didn't mean he wouldn't look for an even quicker out. As long as she believed him, it would be even easier to leave than to say yes quickly to something he didn't want to approve or even think about. He chose the middle ground somewhere between unbelievable and the long way out.

He turned slightly and pointed to a door only forty or fifty feet down the hall between offices and secretary stations. "That's his office there, but I think when I walked by the light was already out, so I wouldn't count on him being there. Sorry." Hoping she would take the story at face value and his sympathetic apology as real, he made to step around her for the elevator call button.

-----------------------

Monday - 12:20 AM Colonial Time
SeaSide Hotel, Southern Shore
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

Finally, the hotel lobby seemed to be calming down after a long day of hustle and bustle. In the late night hours there were fewer people coming and going, fewer people asking for help in one way or another, and fewer people trying to get a last minute reservation on the busiest week of the decade. Fewer people, not none.

The phone rang, echoing loudly through the marble lobby as the front desk attendant quickly strode to grab it. "Hallo?" the young female attendant greeted in what was clearly a foreign accent.

"Hello, I would like to reserve a room for tonight and the next week and a half, do you have anything available?" Charles asked from his car-phone.

If it weren't for her physical exhaustion and weariness of explaining the situation, the attendant might've had to stifle a laugh. However, similar queries all day long had sucked any comedy right out of the situation. "I'm sorry, sir," she replied in the same delightful accent, "but we have been sold out of rooms for the past two weeks - booked right through the end of the week." And just as Charles might have been giving up hope, she explained the rest of the situation. "However, due to the high demand, we are setting up temporary rooms that are as yet unreserved.

"Do not be concerned," she quickly reassured, "though they are temporary, they are quite luxurious. Because we are right on the shore, the hotel owns the private beach directly in front and to the side of it. They are currently in the process of finalizing ten, twelve hundred square foot estate rooms located directly on the beach. They are quite luxurious, quite private, and quite the unique accommodation, but also quite expensive. Because of all the costs of getting them, the going rate is five thousand a night."

-----------------------

Monday - 1:00 AM Colonial Time
Paradise Hotel, South Shore
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

As Howard walked up to the front desk of the Paradise Hotel, the clerk held up his hand in anticipation of the question that was about to slip from the man's lips. "I'm quite sorry sir, we are already fully booked through three weeks from now. There are no vacancies available."

"I would suggest finding a friend who lives in one of the estate rooms here or finding another establishment. Again, apologies." And with that, he looked back down at his papers - nothing at all really - in a clear dismissal of Howard. It wasn't meant to be rude, though it might be taken as so, but rather a simple statement of facts that had been repeated to potential customer after customer.

Appetizers were followed by dinner, dancing, chatting with some of the other regulars - some of which were their 'neighbors' at the Paradise - and a final cup of very well done coffee. Both were a little too tired for any long drives so they headed directly back to the condo.

Dropping the unique vehicle off with the Paradises' valet once again brought out the paparazzi and curiosity seekers - Punkin was looking especially allureing now - her brilliant gold hair touseled from the earlier dancing, her eyes just drooping enough to make them classic bedroom eyes..

"Oh no gentlemen, you haven't seen me on tv...yet. Look for me in a prime time slot for a major U.S. network, our new travel show, this fall!" Punkin twinkled at them but played coy as per their plans "Oh I can't say just which one yet, against the contract" She wrinkled her nose fetchingly and gave more non answer answers.

"Excellent, They sound wonderful, I'll be there in about 20 minutes to finalize the Reservation."

With a quick chuckle Charles closed his phone and put the pedal to the metal. His car quickly sped up and rocketed down the highway.

Monday - 12:20 AM Colonial Time
SeaSide Hotel, Southern Shore
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

When Charles reached the city, he was astounded by how beautiful it was. Shaking off his disbelief, Charles drove up to the hotel.

When he arrived he was greeted by a vallet. He said to the Boy "Heres your tip, and please try not to scratch the car.", as he handed him a 50 dollar bill.

Charles walked through the Revolving door and up to the Reception Desk and said "Hello, my name is Charles Greston, I believe I called earlier to Reserve a room and I was told there were only temporary rooms, could I reserve one of those for the next week and a half?"

Monday - 5:30 AM Colonial Time
Paradise Hotel, South Shore
Tia'dar Dieux, Royal Colony of Eborall

Once the paparazzi had been statisfied with a flurry of shots - some of them looked rather zombie like at the wee hour - Justin offered Punkin his arm with what is mostly considered to be now a days old fashioned courtesy. With another gleaming smile the golden haired beauty slid her arm through his so that her hand reasted feather light on the back of his wrist. As they traded looks, their lips not moving, a whisper ghosted between them, lost save to them, in the chatter of those about them

"Tail"

"Yep"

"Good but not the best"

Their grins sharpened and with complete coordination stepped away from their admirerers as one. But then again they danced beautifully together as well


"Too soo for breakfast and the bread will barely have risen" Punkin commented The Paradise's restraunt offered wonderful breakfasts but at five thrity it was still just a little too early and the couple had had dinner just three hours ago.

"Lets change and go for a run. Take in the sunrise before bed"

"Okay with the tide going out we might find some interesting floatsam"

They fell silent as they rode up the elevator. Such spaces were easier to bug than the vast echoing cavers of hotel lobbies.