NationStates Jolt Archive

From Menelmacar, with love. (Very long, RP ~only~)

30-07-2003, 09:39
To Pluck A Star From The Heavens

Vinyatirion, ageless city of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar. Buildings glow with the soft warmth of the dawn; light creeps over the beautiful copses and lawns of the green city, elegant spires and minarets reaching up to the heavens.

Snow. Wind. Water. Stark, ancient buildings in a city governed by silence, a city almost devoid of life. Ice sheened over all of them, save one, white untouched marble. Light shone out of the Royal Palace, refracting into the snow-choked streets and frozen river, a swirling dimmed glow.

Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor, Elentári, High Queen of the nation proclaimed as most powerful in or outside the world, woke slowly with the coming of the sun. She rose, went to the window, looked out over the shining city for a good while; this was her custom, for a Vinyatirion dawn seemed to have the ability to, however briefly, give one the impression that all was right with the world. Next to the closet, where she selected attire for the day… a blood-red robe in her usual style, with embroidery of spun gold. A little formal, perhaps, but she had a formal occasion today – the awarding of a medal to the Mornahossë commander who had led the stunning penetration of Whispering Voices’ most heavily-defended research facility.

(OOC: I don’t care what anybody says – NOBODY outside me or WV has any idea about that. -Menelmacar)

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A huge, echoing dark cavern. Twisted pillars in the likeness of weeping willow trees grew up from the rocky floor, arching overhead into a vault of darkness. A small pool of radiance emanates from the centre of the chamber known as the “Grave”. A ring of candles, flickering yellow crowns upon white wax, give out a light that is rapidly consumed as it flees the many figures chanting within. Simple black robes, clear voices chanting in Latin, the words reverbrating outwards. Within the ring of chanters kneel thirty-two plain-dressed figures, singing in counterpoint to an ancient male elf. His white hair is long, eyes glassy, arms spread wide to encompass all.

“Attolma i menelessie, nai airitainiéva esselya. Nai ardalya tuluva. Nai írelya tyarniéva mardesse ve menelesse. Anta men síre ilyaurea mastalma. Ar avanta men raikalmar ve avantalme raikatyarolmain. Ar nai útukuvalye me mailenna ná fainu me ulkallo. Amen.” The chanters followed his words closely, the elegant sounds of Quenya mixing into the soul-catching hymns.

Rúmil, once Door-ward of Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva, led the chant. He could feel the ancient power of this place, familiar-yet-strange, doing his bidding as he in turn followed the bidding of another. Outside the circle of light in which he stood, he could feel the malevolent murmuring voices, hungry for the power being used ... then, with the Amen, it was done.

The air rippled, as if an impossible heat were rising from the cold floor, bending the light into waves, obscuring the people kneeling in the centre, blanketing them, fading them away.

Silence descended over the hall, crushing the last memories of human and elven voices alike.

A warm, bright hall. Pillars carved in the shapes of rowan-trees rise up, supporting the roof. The under-levels of the Conclave of Equals in Vinyatirion are serene and beautiful, an undisturbed bright reflection of a dark cavern far to the north.

A tiny disturbance grew into existence, background bending and growing as thirty-two kneeling figures faded into view. As one they stood and then all save two moved into action with an economy of movement achieved only by past teamwork. The Conclave was similar to the Grave in layout if not in atmosphere, and the strategic points were rapidly secured, its emptiness confirmed. Left behind, a man – dressed in plain white shirt, plain white trousers – put his arm around the other figure who had not moved out. She was an elven woman, pretty and toned with lustrous dark, red hair. Despite her athleticism, her green eyes showed a slight sign of glazing, a lack of focus, and she stumbled over the flags on the floor as they moved towards the exit.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Jalythrien woke with the dawn and the birdcalls to the pleasant scent and feel of his beloved Fenarüwe beside him. He couldn’t help but reach out and stroke his finger along her cheekbone, admiring her beauty. She gave a murmur at his touch. Her eyes flicked open, she rolled onto her side to face him, and she smiled as he looked her up and down with a grin.

“Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” He murmured. She didn’t respond, but reached over and brushed the point of his ear with a fingertip suggestively.

“Well…” he stretched, showing off a little. “Will my new fiancee be coming to this awards ceremony to see her brave one guarding the Elentári?”

Her voice was sweet and soft – she was still young, for an elf. “Of course I will. Couldn’t stop me if you tried…” She leaned in, kissed him, and moved closer.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Simon Aylesbury watched the “Hand of God” priestess, Sister Margaritte, as intently as she was studying the scanner she held.

She’s eager. The desire of these fanatics to die for the work of God is always terrifying. I’d die for Rhys, but that’s loyalty. That’s duty. And he’s here, tangible, provable. And to avenge Eddry, of course. Bastard elven Mornahossë assassins. But that’s a blood debt. How can you be willing to throw yourself away for faith? he thought.

The woman’s reddish eyes were dilated slightly, an endorphin release initiated by religious fervour. She gently moved the wheel on the side of the device, flipping between electrical sensor arrays to spot circuitry, and airflow monitors to check for simple mechanical traps, and sound detectors to detect guards or sonar systems. The device showed nothing. There had been a few monitoring devices, mainly infra-red. But Simon and the other Royal Guard could perceive that, and ultra-violet, a legacy of their genetic restructuring. A red diode flashed from the sound detector.

Someone’s coming. Guard or staff? They’re close, getting closer.

Simon pressed himself up against the wall, gently pushing Margaritte behind him with his left hand, gun in his right. He could hear the sounds now – two pairs of feet, walking fast.

Guards, if paired and purposeful.

He slowed his breath, stilled his thoughts. The woman was quiet, still as a mouse. A pair of elves, garbed not in MOCEBA suits but simple BDU’s, turned the corner. Surprise widened their eyes, but only briefly. Two tiny hisses of air escaping from the chamber of a pistol, and they fell to the floor, a small dart lodged in each cheek. Simon listened for more, a second patrol, but there was nothing. He moved forwards to check them even as Margaritte, eyes almost glowing, turned to bring up the others. In fine tradition, he stripped the uniforms from the guards, bound them, and hid them in a closet. He opened the casings of the powerpacks for their radio headsets, and attached a tiny device that all but bled them dry. They would fail half way though the next radio check up, indicating simple battery failure – less likely to draw an alarm than simply rendering them inactive.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Idhrindiel nos Losloriel lay awake, auburn hair blazoned across her pillow, enjoying the sounds of the Vinyatirion morning as the sunlight slipped in through slits in the blinds of her bedroom. Then the klaxon of her alarm clock cut across her thoughts. With a contented sigh she reached out and turned it off, and then slipped out from under the bedcovers. The window looked south across the length of the Menelmacari capital, a glorious sight with the shining straits splitting the stretches of verdant green in twain. She spent a moment or two looking at it, appreciating, and then stretched down to touch her toes. She was not on duty today, but one did not reach the rank of Caun in the Mornahossë by skipping exercise.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Sister Margaritte looked around her with wide eyes as she moved with her designated team out of the Conclave of Equals and into Vinyatirion proper, leaving two of the “Hand of God” to guard the portal and warn of the compromise of the escape route.

So beautiful, just like the stories. Everyone looks so happy! And so good. I wonder how it can be that a people as fair as these can turn from the true faith, and idolise false gods? It doesn’t make any sense.

Her group easily lost themselves amid the crowds of a city of fifty million. People went about their business: shopping, working, or just enjoying the warmth of the tropical day, seemingly worlds away from the weather that the infiltrators in their midst were used to. Occasionally people stopped to watch the news-screens overlooking many of the walking paths, to check stock listings or the weather report, or to see a report from a journalist embedded in one MIDF unit or another.

It seems that as many people as not don't seem to have anywhere really important to be. Makes sense, I suppose… there’s a lot of money in this country. Immortality and compound interest must make an impressive tag team… I’ll bet those that work, do so largely because they want to. It’s almost like a Paradise on Earth… not that there are any cathedrals, or that anyone here will get to Heaven.

The entire city was well taken care of, carefully laid out and landscaped; the walkways and public squares were paved with all manner of fine cut stone in many colours and laid out in beautiful patterns, and the great towers that pierced the sky were placed and angled with care to allow the maximum possible sunlight to reach the ground level. Peace was ensured – not only by the legality of carrying concealed arms, but by police officers in downgraded versions of military armour watching the streets.

As the group walked, small numbers split off. Sister Margaritte, responsible for them, counted them off as they went, making sure everything went to plan.

Francis and Sarah to place the scuba gear, down by the bridge. Those five from the Eldon chapel, gone south of the Straits to hire gravcars. David and Matthew, Mary and Jared, Joanna and Michael, the Royal Guard snipers gone to take positions on flat rooftops. She looked back, counting those remaining with her. Everyone I ought to have. Two for the PA hacking, four to set out the STARS in the park. Thank goodness, nothing’s gone wrong yet. I hope the groups sent to hire gravcars on this side of the Straits have been equally as lucky. And the Prince, of course. Not that he needs luck… Smiling warmly at a handsome elf who returned it with interest, the pretty young fanatic led her followers towards the park designated for the award ceremony.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Uniform. Uniform. Uniform, uniform, armour, uniform… ahh, dress uniform. That will do nicely.

Idhrindiel searched through her wardrobe. The award ceremony was due to start within the hour, and she didn’t want to be late. Not when she was being awarded the Fëanor Medal of Valor by the Elentári herself, certainly. She dressed carefully, knowing the eyes of Vinyatirion – and many of Menelmacar’s allies – could be on her, even for a short time, via the media. The presentation wouldn’t be the highest medal she possessed, but it was nevertheless an important one.

She looked at her clothes critically in the mirror in the wardrobe door.

Epaulette a bit off kilter… there. Crinkles… smoothed. I think that’s about as smart as I get.

She smiled, closed the wardrobe door, and headed downstairs, to make her way to the park.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Simon paused briefly to look back over his shoulder the verdant cityscape. The group had climbed quite high, now, up the steep mountainside. Painstaking research had gone into uncovering every aspect of Idhrindiel’s life since the incident, and her address had been amongst the easiest things to find. It seemed not even Mornahossë terrorists on state-sponsored missions took efforts to cover their tracks. He breathed deeply, but it was not from exertion.

Must not show anything. I know Rhys is watching me. Must not show weakness. So unfair – to come face to face with my brother’s murderer, and to be able to do nothing to her. Not even scar her. Still, with any luck she’ll be arrested and tortured. I don’t know how Noldor conduct their investigations.

The other three Royal Guard were arrayed behind him in a small knot, talking, dressed in civilian clothes, cameras in hand. Rhys, head low and an arm around the elven woman as if he was talking to her, walked behind the group. The group rounded a corner, and Simon stifled a curse before it reached his mouth. The elf bitch was leaving her house, locking the door behind her. Unfortunate. Outside operational control, now. But not parameters – Rhys was a meticulous planner.

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Idhindriel stopped at her front door, turned to look down the street, saw a group of five – no, six, two seeming to be embracing – people heading to her house. Warily, she let her hand drift towards her sidearm. They were dressed casually – smart casuals. She noticed a faint red tinge in the eyes of the one in front, a friendly-looking man. He grinned at her, a vaguely inane expression.

“Independent Press of Knootoss, ma’am. Wondered if we could get some pics?” he said as he displayed a camera proudly. His Quenya was clipped, strong Dutch accent. Perfected by studying replay after replay of tape from both human and elven Knootian interviews.

Knootoss, Knootoss… ah. They’d had a “We love the Elven Queen” day at some point… relaxed nation. Very permissive – ah-hah. Too much marijuana for this one, I think. Flattering, but little time to spare.

“I suppose so,” she said. “Make it quick though, please, I'm already behind schedule.”

“Certainly. Do you happen to have any statues of Sirithil you could pose next to or pictures?” He was smiling, fiddling with a dial on the camera. “As you may be aware, she's on a bit of a popularity rise at the moment in Knootoss!”

Persistent. But it’s not every day I get a chance to be front cover news…

“Right,” she says. “Um… there's one just up the block, I think. Would that do?”

One of the other photographers drew out a Polaroid, focused it on her. Click-Snap. A picture came out, blurry as Polaroids tend to be.

The speaker turned to look at him: “Too light?”

The photographer nodded, and the speaker turned back to her, smiling eagerly. “Well - anything more personal? Like in your house or garden or something? We heard you revere her here? Maybe a shrine? or past medal ceremony photo?”

Idhindriel couldn’t help but laugh. “She is revered here but not worshipped. So, there are no shrines to the Lady. I'm sure I could find a past picture, though. Perhaps if you came back this afternoon? I really must be going.”

The man darted a glance behind him, quick, as if gauging the mood of the others. “Please miss? We fly out this afternoon after the ceremony. Won't take a moment, promise.” His voice was very eager, slightly desperate.

Ah, what the hell. It can’t hurt – I’ve still got an hour to get there. Don’t want them to think that Mornahossë are too easy to get around, though.

She stared imperiously at him. “All right. But I reserve the right to kill you if I'm late.” She gave a bit of a smirk, making it decidedly unclear if she's joking. Then she turned round, and unlocked her front door to go inside and find them said picture.

His voice floated in after her. “Next to a display cabinet would make a lovely pic. And light in there would prevent redeye, better 'n out here.”
As if he can talk about redeye! Well, he’s right. No point in wasting my looks on a bad shot.

As she headed into the living room, she called back to them. "Oh, you want another picture? Come in, then, I suppose.” They troop in, obediently, looking around with curiosity. "I'd get you folks a drink, but I'm already in a hurry, as I said."

He smiled, looking a little relieved. “That's fine ma'am. Don't wanna intrude.” They troop in. The last one in politely shut the door behind him.

Idhindriel flipped through an album and pulled out a hologram. “Here, this should do for the past picture you asked for. This was the day I got the Imperial Medal of Honor, for leading the action against Freebodnik Station Freedom-Progress, to dislodge a Nazi regime that had set up shop there… and would this display cabinet be satisfactory?”

It is my nicest cabinet after all. And contains all my medals. And co-ordinates with my dress uniform.

She posed next to a display cabinet containing the Imperial Medal of Honor and the other medals, subconsciously smoothing down the front of her dress uniform.

Good effect, he looks pretty pleased. Not every day that…

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

“Thanks! Wonderful!” Simon said as he grinned at her. He wasn’t imagining her on the front page of a Knootian newspaper though. He was imagining her dead, in a pool of her own gore. “Beautiful smile you have, miss!”

The one with the Polaroid who had already taken her picture clicked his camera first. The flash briefly blinded her. Before the light had time to fade from her eyes, the three glass lenses of the other cameras flicked aside, and darts flew into her cheeks.

“What the…” She didn’t even have time to look surprised as the venom worked its will. “Oooh… sleepy. Must… not… miss… ceremony…” She took a couple steps towards the door, and then teetered over and crashed down onto the couch, snoozing peacefully.

That was smooth. And I don’t see any CCTV in here. We may just have pulled this part off. It’s going to suck when you wake up. Bitch.

There were clicking sounds, as the fake cameras were reset to look real once more, put into holders and in pockets. Two of the men picked the elf up, holding her by feet and legs. The group moved upstairs.

Idhrindiel seemed to already be having pleasant dreams. “…thank you,milady… such an honor… donuts! huge donuts!… I wanna ride the roller coaster, mama…”

Pathetic. My brother died to this. Damn these elves and their techno-crutches. Damn Rhys for being here. Can’t even try and get them to drop her down the stairs.

Simon gently pushed open doors when he reached the top of the stairs. Bathroom, closet… bedroom. Just what he was looking for. He moved in, drew the blinds.

The unconscious elf was thrown down onto the bed, and not gently. One of the men who had been carrying her hastily began to strip her, the other guard holding her body up so it was possible. A few words from Rhys, the man at the back, and the elven woman with him undressed. Simon looked between Idhindriel on the bed and the Idhindriel clone.

Fantastic workmanship. Everything – wholly accurate. Luckily, no tattoos on the real one. Dammit. Rhys watching – can’t even take a photograph for blackmail and distribution.

The auburn-haired clone was helped into the dress uniform by the guards. Perfect fit, a perfect match. Idhindriel_1 smiled hopefully at Rhys, and he smiled back, warm and approving.

Meanwhile, Simon tied up the real elf. Gagged her, although not quite tight enough for her to choke. Wrists and ankles behind her back. Not together, he wanted to leave the possibility of her guilt open. She was then unceremoniously left on the bed.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Fenarüwe strained to stay upright balanced on the ball of her left foot, the long dance finally taking its toll, every muscle in her body aching. She didn’t fall, but she trembled, her muscles exhausted from the night before. Finally the pain became too great, and she was forced to step down, back onto two feet. The ballet choreographer frowned at her.

What time is it? Oh… almost time for the ceremony. I have a good excuse to leave at least.

The elven dancer began to perform cool-down stretches as the ballet leader approached.

“Problem, Fen?” The voice was cool, but not cold. She was a fair woman, the ballet mistress.

“Jaly’s guarding the Elentári at a presentation ceremony, madame. Might I attend? I have not yet seen him in his armour.”

A smile. She’ll let me go, thank goodness. Not that I would have stopped here. Not the day after getting engaged.

With a sympathetic hug from the woman, Fenarüwe left the dancing hall, headed to the dressing rooms.

Not quite enough time to go home and get changed… still, I think I have my gown from the last festival somewhere in the locker… ah. Here. A bit crumpled – but better than what I came here in. Shower, dress, ceremony. Just about enough time.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Sister Margaritte listened to the voices as she mingled with the crowds, a small bag of plastic gas-grenades concealed within a voluminous handbag. No-one was really paying attention – Sirithil was mingling with the people, as she liked to do. And they were clamouring for her attention, Menelmacari and tourists, elves and humans alike.

The scuba gear is hanging from a buoy to the east of the north-most bridge tower. Fire team one in position. All of the Eldon chapel group now in untraceable gravcars. All gravcars fitted with mirror-capacitors.

I’m moving to position the last of the STARS devices now. No indication from the Mornahossë that they can sense them; the plastic construction and lack of circuits seems to be working. I’ve seen four cloaked Mornahossë so far – two by a stand of rowan, two by the park entrance. Of course, there are three more constantly around Sirithil, but they’re not cloaked. STARS units set to go off in seven minutes forty-two seconds from now.

North disruption teams one, two, three all in gravcars at required positions. Mirror-capacitors fitted. Sound device patched at the small fountain with the lion sculpture – the main system was guarded.

All was going to plan. Margaritte smiled warmly at the visored helmet of an elven warrior. No response, but she wasn’t expecting any. Someone jostled into her. She turned around in surprise – normally Menelmacari were considerate of other people’s space. A young elf, not much more than a girl, looked back at her with a slight flush of embarrassment. She was very pretty, and looking for someone amongst the Mornahossë it seemed.

“Sorry!” And she was gone. Margaritte shrugged.

Bridge team in position. Gravimetric fluctuators activated. Road team one, fluctuator activated…

On mighty Daeriant, the bridge over the straits, five hover-cars suddenly slowed down, fell a few feet onto the road surface with a grind. Behind them and on the other side of the bridge, other vehicles fell too as their gravimetric fields were interrupted and collapsed. Sparks flew where they impacted with the road surface. The drivers of the five cars got out, started swearing at each other, and then at the shocked drivers of the other vehicles who got out. Pushes led to punches, and soon a brawl was underway in earnest. Then, the distant sound of police sirens became audible. The five drivers stopped their fights, ran to the side of the bridge, and, shocking those who weren’t too busy defending themselves to watch, dived gracefully over the side, over a hundred and fifty feet to the sea below, where scuba gear had been hung from a buoy, ready for their underwater swim back to the rendezvous point.

On roads throughout northern Vinyatirion, arterial roads in its radial grid underground transport system, other cars were stopping, gravimetrics failing around them. The drivers locked the car doors and armed the alarms, and slipped out, heading back towards the Conclave.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Jalythrien was on a high. The data-streams from his MOCEBA armour’s HUD flashed across his vision, constantly analysing. Every weapon carried by the crowd was noted, registered, recorded. Every face he’d seen digi-mapped for matches against known criminal or terrorist threats. Radio waves were monitored constantly; body language analysed of any who stepped near to Sirithil. He himself was just behind the queen, slightly to her right, ready for anything.

Ah, Idhrendiel. Eru send that one day I shall have as many decorations as her. She’s moving a little oddly. Nervousness, I suppose. Oh – Fenarüwe. She came. Wish I could say hi, but need to act professional.

Nevertheless, the young warrior did straighten up, as much subconsciously as consciously.

Wonder if she’s told her parents yet? I can’t think they’d be upset. Not as if I’m a bad choice. Not that that’d stop her father forming some ill-judged opinion of me.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Simon watched the elves mingle and fawn like sheep over their idolatrous leader. He felt calm, detached, his training crushing his nerves to serenity. His thoughts were still, no voices. Physical and spiritual predators silent.

He watched Sirithil embrace Idhrendiel_1, watched them exchange a few words. The elven queen then mounted the dais, moved over to the podium, and began to speak. Her words were caught and amplified to carry over to the crowd; her voice was beautifully toned and moderated.

“Occasionally,” she began, “we get a chance to recognize a truly exceptional soldier. A soldier who exemplifies the values we Menelmacari hold dear… Such a soldier is Caun Idhrindiel nos Losloriel, to whom I have the distinct honor this fine morning of awarding the Fëanor Medal of Valor, for bravery and honor above and beyond the call of duty…”

Makes me sick. Whore. Murderer.

Simon’s face was amongst the most awed of the crowd, as he stared up at the legendary queen.

All in position. Physical communications disruption complete.

Time. STARS release in only a couple of seconds.

Simon smiled, as Idhendriel_1 mounted the platform to receive her reward.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Fenarüwe cheered as the pretty red-headed elf walked up to the beautiful Elentári, joining in with the crowd.

Jaly looks gorgeous … he needs to be promoted to Caun before our wedding. That style of dress uniform will really suit.

She suddenly felt slightly dizzy, a little faint.

Oh, no. Don’t want to be ill now … must breathe deeper. That’s not … that’s not right. That Mornahossë – he’s pointing a gun at me … oh Eru, I’m going to die.

The dancer collapsed to the floor, panting, stinking of fear. The first collapse amongst the populace was the signal. On the PA Sirithil was using to speak, a harsh electronic chord takes over, and instead of the Queen’s words, a human voice booms out in a language very different from the elegant Quenyan.

“Eins. Hier kommt die Sonne”

The three Mornahossë closest to Sirithil collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. Blood spattered the ground and the trees behind them.

“Zwei. Hier kommt die Sonne”

Purple, thick smoke rose from in the midst of the crowd just as three reporters, humans, raised cameras and clicked. EMP bursts shot out, elven armor circuits shorting, warriors swearing.

“Drei. Sie ist der hellste Stern von allen.”

The unprepared crowd cowered away from the unexpected sounds, the language so different from Quenyan, so harsh. Chemically-induced nightmares and fears took over their perceptions.

“Vier. Hier kommt die Sonne.”

As the music started, Idhendriel flicked her arm towards the Queen, and three darts shot into Sirithil’s flesh, dropping her like a light.

“Die Sonne scheint mir aus den Händen.”

A group of Mornahossë rushed towards their lady, seeking to protect her, but collapsed in agony. Somewhere in the thick purple crowd, Rhys played his flute. A single resonant note, accompanied by a 7Hz subsonic that threatens to rupture the elven eyes.

“Kann verbrennen, kann euch blenden.”

Blinded but knowing her duty, Idhendriel_1 grabbed up the fallen
Elentári, in agony but following the sound of the flute that she could hear.

“Wenn sie aus den Fäusten bricht
legt sich heiss auf das Gesicht
sie wird heut Nacht nicht untergehen
und die Welt zählt laut bis zehn”

Unseen in the smoke, and throughout the city, the human team returned to the Conclave of Equals, and thence to where they came. With them went Elentári Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor, plucked from Vinyatirion like a star from amongst the Heavens.

OOC Notes:

The Quenyan at the start is the Lord’s Prayer.

The song is “Sonne” by Rammstein. The lyrics that played are:

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun
It is the brightest star of them all
Here comes the sun

The sun is shining out of my hands
it can burn, it can blind you all
when it breaks out of the fists
it lays down hotly on the face
it will not set tonight
and the world counts loudly to ten.
30-07-2003, 09:48
When truth matters most, you can depend... on ISN!

VINYATIRION - A terrorist attack on an award ceremony in Vinyatirion's Grand City Park this morning left several people injured and two Mornahossë dead. The Lady Sirithil was among the injured, but not gravely so, and she is recovering nicely in a secured location. The Lady should be up and around in a few days.

The two dead Mornahossë will receive full state funerals with all military honors, and will be identified after their next of kin have been notified.

[OOC: Yes, she was kidnapped - but no, due to the nature of the attack, nobody outside the Mornahossë or Menelmacar's 'inner circle' actually knows. Please ensure that all IC responses reflect this fact.] Sirithil nos Fëanor
Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
High Queen and Lady Protector of Elvenkind
"We can't go around supporting the Goodness of All Things. We might be mistaken for Menelmacar."
~Education Minister Lobon, Kn-Yan
Clicky-clicky! We Love The Iraqi Information Minister (
30-07-2003, 10:26
Zhakarov was working at his desk. Going over datapads. Making a few calculations and notes. Then forwarding it.
Just then came Nataliya bursting in the room talking in a loud voice. "Prokhor! You should see this!" She pressed a button and a wall suddenly turned into a vid screen. The ISN report showing on it. of kin have been notified.

"I see. Get them working on it. I want to know who was good enough to do something like this." Prokhor said in a strict tone of voice. "And send some flowers to Sirithil. Make sure the get well card is in Quenya." He quickly added. "Yes sir." Nataliya said and saluted. Whereafter she sped of.

Why does she keep saluting me? She should know better that's not my function. But I have more important things to think about right now. I think I should go see him and go over the intell. Zhakarov thought to himself. He stood up, pressed a button to turn the vid screen into a wall again, and walked away.
Santa Barbara
30-07-2003, 10:42
In his office overlooking the now-quieter New State City business district, Bob Pratt stared thoughtfully at the news feed.

...A terrorist attack on an award ceremony in Vinyatirion's Grand City Park this morning left several people injured and two Mornahossë dead. The Lady Sirithil was among the injured, but not gravely so...

Hmmm, he thought, it appears Dark Vengence has struck the very center of the Menelmacari.

It had been several weeks since the terrorist group known as Dark Vengence unleashed themselves in the cities of Santa Barbara. Untold amounts of damage had been caused. Bob felt himself caring about the dead, as well-- not for their loss, but for the possible loss of revenue their deaths would mean. Several corporations had been hit hard, but were expected to recover soon enough.

Assuming the terrorists could be stopped. Bob- that is to say, his brother Toby, who was still "in the field" - had nerve-gassed them, had shot them, had found out where they were hiding and eradicated them, but it seemed more cells were always waiting. An unseasy kind of war-mentality had settled over the whole damn country, with people never knowing if today would be good for business or sudden death.

There was a time when Bob Pratt thrived on such things. No longer. He had a Megacorporation to run, after all.

He knew that Toby disapproved of the elves and always had-- Toby especially disapproved of the idea of asking another country for help. But where had all of his brothers war-making on the terrorists got them? Nowhere! Bob was tired of the usual solutions, particularly now when they seemed ineffective.

He sat down and began to type.

Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor,

Your grace, I have attempted to contact you previously, but communications have no doubt been...difficult lately. I must declare the people of Santa Barbara are most shocked by this latest incident of terrorism, and offer you our condolences on your loss of such valued and noble warriors.

I write to you now of Dark Vengence, the terrorist group which has been ravaging several nations, including ours and yours, for some time now. I believe this latest incident may be their doing. In my earlier telegram, I spoke of a PCC BoD decision to both request of and offer to the nation of Menelmacar help, in whatever form it may take, to insure the safety of our respective lands and people, and to apprehend those responsible. I repeat this earlier offer now, with the sincerest hope that it is seriously considered. Surely, the combined efforts of two such large and powerful nations is better than uncoordinated and solitary countermeasures as have been taken already.

I eagerly await your reply, from one head of state to another, in these dark and disturbing times.


Bob Pratt, CEO

"There," he said, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. He sent the message, not able to escape the feeling that it was already too late, and that things might never be the same again...

OOC: The "Dark Vengence" thread Bob Pratt alluded to is here:

(The telegram he alluded to was in fact a telegram, probably lost in Menelmacar's sea of telegrams, I decided to leave that in ICly.)
30-07-2003, 11:12
Zhakarov walked down a long dimly lit corrider. With more corridors going of to the side at 10 meter intervals. He went left, passed 5 other corriders, went right, then left again. He walked up to the end of the corridor where a wall stood. He did something. And then said said something. The wall dissappeared and he walked into, what seems to be an elevator of some sort. The wall reappeared.

The lift speeds of downwards incredibly fast. But for the occupant there was no sense of motion. Aah such are the wonders of technollogy. Then the wall on the of the lift dissappeared again, and there was a long concrete well lit corridor. Zhakarov walked down it. He took a turn to the right at one point and was facing a large door. A door large enough to let a tank through. Not that they would ever get a tank down here.

He enterred the room. It appeared to be a war room of some kind. Only this one din't have Federation personell working there. Zhakarov walked to the large elipicall table in the center of the room. There where already poeple sitting at the table. He toke his seat at the head and spoke.

"You heard the news. Who did this and how well is Siri's condition?" He asked. "Well sir. These poeple seem to have planned this for a while, and coverred their tracks up quite well. As of yet it's uncertain he could have done it. We also cen't speculate who did it. Considerring the vast ammount of enemy's Menelmacar has." A middle aged looking man said. "As for Sirithil's codition sir. They say it's all right. She just got knocked out by the gas or something like that. But then there's the thing." Another, slightly older man said. "And that would be?" Zhakarov asked with a demanding voice.

"Well. Visit's aren't allowed. Nor is seeing her, or giving her her get well cards and flowers personally. Seems odd for knock out gas. It could of course be just that they fear an attempt at her life right now. Rest assured we got our top men in Menelmacar assigned to find things out". The older man said. " And no ones ever ben able to keep a secret from us." A young woman said with a laugh. "Don't overestimate our abbillities. You toke the test. You should've rememberred that. But yes. No secret has ever ben kept from us." Zhakarov said.

"We will recess now. And resume this in 2 hours. When hopefully more data has become available."
30-07-2003, 12:07
Veganian News Channel: (VNC)

So has Terrorism finally reached the heart of elven capital. Today Lady Sirithil herslef became a victim for international terror as an attack was carried out at a ceremony in the Menemalcarian capital. No group has so far taken responsibility for the deed but anonymous sources says this could be a revenge for the Elven hijacking of a 777 earlier this week. Our most beloved and enlightened leader Jaar:

-"We suffer with the Menemalcarian people and pray for the dead from this meningless deed. But in this time of suffering I think it is time for reflection. What makes people want to carry out such a vicious crime? Our praires goes to the wounded for a quick recovery"

Jaar watched the monitor go blank and clapped his hand.
-"Feodor! Could you check so that young Mikail is still safe in our custody? This could be the time to use the Zhikavian heir."
30-07-2003, 13:27
<Press release by the Royal Household>

"This news of an attack upon a royal personage is most grave. Despite our disagreements with the attitude and arrogance of Sirithil, the incident highlights admirably how strained tensions between the elves and those they have aggravated have become."
30-07-2003, 14:36
The Archduke examined the news. He shook his head. Something wasn't clear in this story - and he wasn't the head of the Taraskovyan Department of Intelligence for nothing...
But in the meanwhile, he ordered his aid to send a message of encouragement to Lady Sirithiil or whoever among the Menelmacari high ranked was going to receive it.

Most Honourable Lady Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor,
Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar,
High Queen and Lady Protector of Elvenkind,

Your heighness, allow me to wish you the rapidest guerison.
This attack was just an example of how we are all vulnerable to the shades of the darkness.
As a nobleman, I can only condemn such actions.

But all this later - for now, heal well.

With my best regards,

Can't make a huge official message up right now :(
30-07-2003, 14:49
Speaker's Office, Council Compound, Andulos City:


He gazes at the viewscreen. Multiple newsfeeds are playing simoultaneously - assimilating the information from 10 or more newsfeeds at once is no task at all for the Master of Keepers.

"Pity We didn't have an observer there. Something tells Us the whole truth is not in these cheap broadcasts."

A figure detaches itself from the shadows in one corner of the room - Councillor Jolon. Pale, tall, young, bald. And wearing his usual shades.

"Indeed, Myrios. This... occurrence is rather overdue, logically speaking. Credit to the efficacy of the Mornahossë, I feel - Menelmacar has many enemies."

Myrios turns, nodding.

"Yes, they do. All powerful empires do."

He is thoughtful for a moment.

"Prepare a team of Inquisitors and Keepers - use your discretion in terms of the size of the team. Four, perhaps. Low key equipment. We want them to monitor the situation. Observe. Nothing more. And ask Ereki to put a Network Surveillance team to the task as well. We do not appreciate being held thrall to.... commercial news networks.
The Territory
30-07-2003, 15:16
Something doesn't ring quite right. Sirithil's time is valuable, and a "slight" injury shouldn't keep her down for more than hours at the most. Brain damage? Would be a terrible shame.

Still, if the Menelmacari can play the subtext game...

{Secure Transmission}

x Renate von Saucken (Senior Advisor)

o Sirithil nos Fëanor (Elentári), Second in Command

Lady Sirithil,

Let me first wish you a speedy recovery. Secondly, let me ask your aid in curbing the likely backlash against terrorism that will likely follow this incident. This last may sound paradoxical, but consider: Nations are not greatly threatened by terrorism but by economic and military action. This attack will likely provole a wholly disproportionate response with a huge cost in economic and hence military capability.

That said, the TCPS will support efforts to come to the bottom of this matter to the fullest.
30-07-2003, 16:47
The kingdom of Finarfin offers its most humble condolences to its mighty neighbour and benefactress Sirithil - I hope that you are well and able to attend to state duties soon.

Your servant,

King Lurëamakil nos Finarfin
30-07-2003, 17:44
Siri's hurt? Alshai frowns. Garbo, what's the status of those groups we've been monitoring here in the segments?

Advisor Garbo, Intelligence Section, runs a hand through his Afro. "They've gotten way too quiet, sir."

Double security, government buildings and allied embassies. This may be the start of something. Check up on our SYLVAN contacts as well, coordinate with Menelmacari intelligence if we have to.

Garbo nods with a cool smirk. "Acting, sir."

Speaker, you have sympathy duty. I'd do it, but I'm needed at the Meet in ten.

Speaker nods. "I can handle it." As everyone scatters to do their respective jobs, he folds his brawny arms and thinks for a moment. She must be stuck in a hospital somewhere. Hospitals are lonely, in my experience. Maybe a direct video conversation from her friends will cheer her up if she's lonely, as we can't visit in person. Wandering over to his desk, he sets up its integrated communicator for direct two-way A/V transmission.


This is Speaker-to-Animals of Scolopendra. We were thinking that Lady Sirithil must be lonely in the hospital, and would like to talk to her directly. It's what friends do for each other. Speaker-to-Animals
International Relations Section
Federated Segments of Scolopendra
30-07-2003, 18:30
Professor-Delegate Richard Douleis vi-Trouls ponders upon the news, as he waits to deliver the Daily action report to the Professor-Director.

Not now. Why? The international scene is beginning to fall into chaos. Johnassan's research indicates that with the simultaneous potential Dominion revival, the beginnings of a Crusade in the East and a rise in Global instability, there is a high chance of CHAOTIC occuring. The AI awakening makes it worst. Without the great Empires... No one can know what will happen.

"Richard, enter. By the way, you worry too much."

The Director sits by the fireplace in his "little sanctum", staring into the fire as Richard comes in, before rising to his full height and facing the window.

"I assume that you bring me news of chaos? Your mental state is obviously non-stable."

"Yes, Professor. Lady Sirithil has suffered injury in a terrorist attack-

"IN the middle of her empire, I assume. Don't look shocked, this was bound to have happened sooner or later."

"But Director, the situation-

"Just leave me now."

The Delegate leaves, as the Director begins composing a response.

"The Institute of Science is deeply upset at this drastic turn of events, and we offer our gravest condolences to those lost and wounded in this terrible attack. We are thankful that Lady Sirithil was not seriously injured, and wish her the speediest of recoveries."

A second, more secret message is sent to the agents of the IoR in the region.

"Halt activities, except for the basic cover-maintainence actions. You are to commence a passive sweep of every single dissenting element in the entire continent, every city, every building, every room. Maintain discreetness, and maintain distance. We only want to search, not disrupt. May the Triangles be with you."
30-07-2003, 18:34
I hate coming here. These dock guards take their jobs way too seriously, thought Marcus Abinus, captain of the NDCS Caran as he and his crew were lined up for the inspections. Genetic testing, medical scans, x-rays, psyche probes. And the worst bit of all, the bit where the captain of the Hush Guard would stare into their eyes, his own flaring, raping their minds for hostile intentions, conscious or unconscious.

Still, three cargo transports to this place net me more money than a year trading to elsewhere. I guess it's worth it, for the extra time with the family. Doesn't help that that confounded blizzard messes up weather reports and satscans, making navigation a bit of a nightmare. But as he stood, shivering in all his cold-weather gear, sometimes he doubted it.

You can't relax, in Hush. Cameras everywhere, guards everywhere, Shepherds everywhere. Spot checks on foreign nationals, and on its own citizenry. Drugs, illegal. Whores, illegal. Alcohol, restricted. Cigarettes, illegal. Enforced curfews during the hours of Mass. The citizens don't seem unhappy, but then again they don't know any better.

In case anyone decides to "spot check" their intelligence on Whispering Voices on a whim, the following is the case:
Only regional countries are permitted embassies within the borders, and those are confined to a singular enclave;
Only cities accessible to foreigners are the ports of Hush and Tranquility and Freeport (far to the east on the Inner Sea of the Devils Desert). The cities are watched with eternal vigilance, and any non-authorised person seeking to enter or leave the city is terminated without delay;
The citizens appear to have some instinctive ability to recognise a citizen and a non-citizen - this may or may not have something to do with the red glowy eyes;
A huge snowstorm is pretty much in effect all the time over the main part of the country (not the Freeport area or its runup), mostly due to the huge concentration of mountains and the country's northerly position;
Atmospheric interference is exceedingly high, and it is not unknown for Bermuda-Triangle style effects to occur with both WV and non-WV vehicles in which power is seemingly sucked straight out of the engines. Documented evidence is classified and rare; distant passive scans by advanced nations reveal no *apparent* magnetic causes for this.

In short: Whispering Voices always has been, and still is, a very paranoid country. Anyone wanting to "assume" undercover agents or spies - don't. This isn't to say there isn't a way to get intelligence - however, it's not going to be as easy as making an encoded phone call to a sleeper cell, or spying from space.
imported_Sentient Peoples
30-07-2003, 19:32

The outburst was totally out of character for D'ron. But it matched John's sentiment's exactly.

Between him and James, they were responsible for the security of the Federation.

And Vinyatirion was the safest city in the world. That meant they were vunerable as well. It was not an idea that hung well on either's head.

"Is there anyway to find out more than what the Menelmacari government has released, say our bio-scanners?"

"No, sir. Even if we had a ship in position, they aren't that good. There is no way we could tell who it was."

"Damn. I'd better send a message then. One, other thing. Gather as much info as you can. Wherever the data comes from, however you get it, I want it."

{Diplomatic Communication}
{Military M1 Encryption}
{The Federation of Sentient Peoples}
{The Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar}

Lady Sirithil, noble Elentári, let me express my sincerest concern for your well being, and inform you that the prayers of our nation, (those whom believe in something enough to pray to it), are for your speedy recovery.

On a darker note, let me say that you will have the fullest support of the Federation in tracking down those responsbile. And then, we shall assist you in eliminating the vile scum.
D'ron Christopher Smith, Imperial President
The Federation of Sentient Peoples (
Federation Roleplay Policy (

{End Communication}
30-07-2003, 19:39
{Imperial MISAT-Rebounded Direct Microwave Tightbeam Transmission #41921}

{TO: Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor; Menelmacar}
{FROM: High Lady Rialla ux-Rihad
{TOPIC: RE: Recent 'Terrorist' Action in Menelmacar}
{CC: Emperor Si Ling I, Queen Bao Ling I, High Lord Commodore Semi Ran; EOTED}
{ENCRYPTION: Standard EOTED ---> Menelmacari Encryption, Codename removed OT}



The Empire offers our condolences for thine recent incurred injuries, and wishes to inform thou directly of our willingness to aid thee in any way possible. We wish thou a speedy recovery, and, if it suits thine will, we request that thou provide us with any and all information available on this 'event'. As ever, the Empire's special 'resources' are at thy disposal, if thou so chooses to have them thus.

As Ever,

Thine humble ally,

The Empire of the Eternal Dawn;

Speaking through the High Lady Rialla ux-Rihad


[OOC: NOTE: The reason for the not entirely correct form of 'olde English' is thus: Rialla sent the message, of course, in Quenya. She is not a perfect speaker, however, and slight grammatical errors are represented as misuse of 'thou' or 'thee', as I could not think of a better way to do it - and I really didn't feel like writing the whole damned thing in actual Quenya. One: that would take too long for me to write. Two: it would then probably take too long for Siri to translate, or I'd have to tell her what it meant. Either way, would take too long. And apologies for the slight waffle-nature of this OOC note.]
30-07-2003, 20:34
OOC: nice to be mentioned and I bet that any investigation would lead to the "Knootian" journalists, so then I'll participate. :)

At the Knootian ministry of foreign affairs the terrorist attack went by virtually unnoticed. With the fall of the government there had been much chaos and the ministry was in virtual shock. The assasination of the Elvish state-secretary of Defence also had a great influence on their performance. Those still calm enough to work were busy returning concerned calls from foreign embassies, and the Dominion orbital battlefleets looming over Knootoss were a big distraction as well.

The third assistant to the state-secretary noticed the news, and called for the prime minister. However the prime minister would not come out of his residence, for unknown reasons. Not caring too much, the assistant put a memo note with the news on a "to do" pile for the new foreign minister, if one ever was to come...
30-07-2003, 21:01
This has been edited by Thelas Anti-Goddmodding and courtosy Department, we appologize for any problems caused by this post.
30-07-2003, 22:49
We would like to extend our dearest hope that Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor recovers well and soon. There is too little light in the world for it to stand such a flame being dimmed for long.

We believe that the most likely culprit is either the Evil Lord Melkor or one of his so-called 'allies'. The dark hordes have most to gain from such an assassination being successful.
31-07-2003, 01:15
forget my earlier post, forgot somthing, menelmacar can I join in.
Melkor Unchained
31-07-2003, 01:22
We would like to extend our dearest hope that Lady Sirithil nos Fëanor recovers well and soon. There is too little light in the world for it to stand such a flame being dimmed for long.

We believe that the most likely culprit is either the Evil Lord Melkor or one of his so-called 'allies'. The dark hordes have most to gain from such an assassination being successful.

Frankly, we don't even care if you think it was us or not. If it was, I'd have come out and said it pretty much right away, but such as it is, I'm not about to try and say we wouldn't do it.

--Jay Reaven
31-07-2003, 01:23
General Theallas is standing in a training room, a agent walks in, and whispers in his ear, he draws his sword in a a wide arc, five massive stone pillars fall

he has a cold anger in his eyes "Athena!"
A hologram "Yes Sir"
"I will be gone for several days"
"why sir?"
"Lady Sirithil has beeen kidnaped, and I intend to find out who did it"
"But she was only wounded"
"You learn many things when you evesdrop on Menelmacar coms, I senced a great deal of magic, right before she was kidnapped"
"how can you tell?"
"Athena, I did not become the best assasin in Menelmacar for nothing, a great magic was worked, I got the general area, in oter words I think I know from what country sent this, but not where lady Sirithil is. I beilive I am going to kill a friend. I would like you to witness that my actions here are in no way conected to Thelas"
"Yes Sir"

He boards a modified Twilight B (quick plug for Strak, he makes space fighters now! good ones at that!) that soars up into the ionishere, he goes to follow the magic.

OOC: if any one thinks that this is godmod please tell me, and no Magic is a godmodd, if you RP with Lady Sirithil, you have to respect the forces of magic.
OOC: Actually, I think it's a godmode. You don't know. I said that quite specifically at the beginning of the thread... nobody knows. If you want to suspect, go right ahead, but you don't... freaking... know.. Sirithil nos Fëanor
Elentári of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
High Queen and Lady Protector of Elvenkind
"We can't go around supporting the Goodness of All Things. We might be mistaken for Menelmacar."
~Education Minister Lobon, Kn-Yan
Clicky-clicky! We Love The Iraqi Information Minister (
Melkor Unchained
31-07-2003, 01:37
The Imperium would like to let the kidnappers know that they can always seek sanctuary here, lest things get too dicey. In fact, we'd be willing to pay you handsomely; and like I said, offer asylum.

--Jay Reaven
Tor Yvresse
31-07-2003, 02:57
**Farseer Council meeting, deep in the Web, on route to Raem.**

'This is most disturbing, whatever the truth of the matter is, I think we all agree we'd rather have an agent on scene, to that aim I will activate Imitoria's Team let them deal with it for us.' Telgorthrind was not pleased, even a simple attack on Lady Sirithil could have dire repercusions for all Kin. A Message of Condolence and offer of support would be sent of course, but no matter what the final word was, Imitoria would move in.

Communication to Menelcamar
From Farseer Council, routed through Tor Yvresse-Mars

'Lady Sirithil,

We offer our sympathy for this grievous attack on your personage and our aid in tracking the perpetrators down. Unfortunatly due to our own issues at this time we cannot send Military aid, but you have access to all our intellagence services, and the Web itself. We the council wish you a speedy recoverly at this time.

The Council of Farseers, Servents of Khaine.

((Notes on Imitoria's Team, they move through Web Gates located in Safe Houses to enter nations secretly. officially their entire network are people on the Path of the Outcast, and so their actions are judged to be independent actions, and Tor Yvresse accepts no responsiblity for them. The safe houses exist anywhere Elves can move about and own homes with some degree of normality and legality. Unofficially Imitoria is a Warlock and the team takes orders from the Council. The Council are the only people that know this, and nothing is written down.))

OOC Edit hmm going to have to change his name, I just realised where I got it from, another nation already has that name. (I must have seen it just before the thread I named the guy in... and accidently adopted it for him.) Whoops oh well new name coming soon
31-07-2003, 05:20
[[OOC: I know threads don't have to happen at the same time, so charicters can be in multiple places at the same real life (but not NS) time, but...]]

Once again, multiple things were happening in the room.

Sandman stood at the podeum, his old legs getting tired, listening to Gordon talk about a humanitarian aid organization. He was slightly annoyed by Slobodan's speaking while Gordon had the floor, but also slightly happy that that speaking was scolding Consul-Colonel Santanez for leaving the first meeting of the Society for the Preservation of Humanity.

He was also annoyed as another, apparantly late person walked through the door. Had he not been paying most of his attention to Gordon, he would have noticed that this newcommer was dressed in a Wazzu fashion.

The young woman walked over to Liz Wang, spoke into her ear, and left with a nod. She closed the door behind her. Then Liz stood up.

"I hate to interupt everyone, especially when we seem to be getting somewhere. But there seems to be important news. Remember when we were debating why someone might feel threatened by us?" She waited a moment before continuing. "It seems Lady Sirithil has been wounded in a terrorist attack in the heart of Menelmacar."

A tension dropped on the room like a heavy, itchy blanket.

[[OOC: But I thought it might be neat to link the threads together, in time if nothing else....]]


At the same time, in one of the "floating cities" of the rich, high in the stratosphere, Nike Wang, CEO of the Wazzu aerospace giant TransCorp, held his pocketphone 6 inches from his ear. He had to, because despite his only normal hearing, Cheif Board Member of Wazzu Brian Walton was screaming over the airwaves.


"Look, my granddaughter was hosting it, I--"


"NOW JUST ONE MINUTE!" It was Nike's turn to scream, "THATS MY FAMILY YOUR INSULTING! MY LAST REMAINING FAMILY!" Fierce anger at being insulted wasn't just a trait of Liz Wang, either she had inherited it by genes, or by environment.

Cheif Board Member Walton stopped yelling at this. He was still too mad to say sorry, and this would look very bad in the international community, but you don't insult someone's last family member...especially a female decendant of one of the most powerful people in Wazzu. "Alright, look Nike. It would get too much attention to send them home now. But in the future, please, please have her conduct those meetings in a place that does not reflect on the state. You know as well as I that Wazzu sales depend on the impartiality of our corporations."

Nike too was still mad, but he know the Wazzu executive was correct. He swallowed, his triple chin dripping sweat as it bounced. "I'll talk to her, but you know as well as I that she has a mind of her own. And I can't protect her from everything."

"Yes, of course, your right. Talk to her, lets hope that is enough."

"And what are you going to do Cheif?"

"Damage control...."


Brian Walton, Cheif Board Member of the Dominion of Wazzu, spent many hours afterwards painfully hand-writing a letter to Sirithil, making sure that his hope of her speedy recovery was perfectly inked. He signed it, rolled it, sealed it with wax, and gave it to a messenger to be carried by hypersonic jet to Menelmacar and hand delivered to those who would take it up.

[[OOC: This post also at: ]]
31-07-2003, 10:57
Frankly, we don't even care if you think it was us or not. If it was, I'd have come out and said it pretty much right away, but such as it is, I'm not about to try and say we wouldn't do it.
--Jay Reaven

A very good point. Largely we were expecting it to be some sycophant trying to curry favour by assassinating Sirithil, but nobody seems to have come forward and claimed the attack. Strange that, usually you'd have every two-bit cause leaping up to claim it in the hope of getting some air-time on a major network.

Anyway, if Lady Sirithil was only lightly injured, shouldn't she be able to do a press-release by now? It may be that she is more injured than the media are admitting... a worrying thought indeed.

Hmmm... anyone else notice the similarity of timing between this and the emergence of a major new racial power in Raem?
Tor Yvresse
31-07-2003, 11:01
Actually it is not the Style of the Fallen to do this sort of thing. They would have killed more innocents and taken Slaves, as many as they could get, to amuse them for a few days.

So we can discount the Fallen at least initially.
31-07-2003, 12:08
A letter is sent to all greater newsbureaus:
"The terroristgroup RFE makes a statement against the childmurderer Sirithil Nos Fëanor:

WE the RFE earlier made an attempt to execute Sirithil Nos Fëanor. WE didi this because of her continous attempts to kill innocent beings and her disregard for HUMAN life. We have held a court and found Ms Nos Fëanor guilty on "murder and crimes against humanity" our failure to execute this fair judgement is only postponed. Any attacks will not break us as we already has formed cells and hereby also seeks refuge for our freedomfighters in Rylleh
Tor Yvresse
31-07-2003, 12:14
Interesting yet somehow... It smells wrong, still Jarlex can examine that lead further, while we look up other clues, something about the statement is off, perhaps it's TOO pat, too standard... I'm not exactly sure what but every instinct in my body says no.

With a single hand gesture to the appointed Ranger and the Address handed to him he was off, he would look into the matter in greater detail while the other Ranger and the Warlock looked elsewhere.
31-07-2003, 13:12
Hmmm... initial historical documentational analysis suggests that the nation of Fallguyus had no outside diplomatic contact during the time of the assault. Their appearance after my earlier remark leads me to think that they are a merely front for an underground organisation dedicated to sarcasm.
However, we are betting that somebody will rush to invade him on the grounds of this claim.

Tor Yvresse know these Fallen better than we, so we will bow to your reasoning and not pursue that avenue. But who _does_ that leave?
31-07-2003, 14:38
Veganian News Channel (VNC)
This is Kent Brockman reporting live from the Menemalcarian terrorsite. As you might have seen in a recent Broadcast an act of terror was commitied against the elven high queen, Lady Sirithil Nos Fëanor. Right now this place is a buzz of rumours. I've heard at least five different names mentioned ranging from different Nations as "Melkor unchained" to small independent terrorgroups to internal struggle among the elves themselves. So far only one terrorgroup has accepted the deed, a formerly unknown group calling themselves RFE. This was received earlier today:

(Bad videouptake)

WE the RFE earlier made an attempt to execute Sirithil Nos Fëanor. WE didi this because of her continous attempts to kill innocent beings and her disregard for HUMAN life. We have held a court and found Ms Nos Fëanor guilty on "murder and crimes against humanity" our failure to execute this fair judgement is only postponed. Any attacks will not break us as we already has formed cells and hereby also seeks refuge for our freedomfighters in Rylleh

So far no sign has come from the Lady herself, but reports says she is lightly wounded and steadily recovering. We from the VNC hopes she soon may be back on her feet. Over to you Alice...
31-07-2003, 15:12
*In the halls of the House of Lothloriendalin, a young elf swiflty runs past the Royal Guards. The guards did not mind for they saw the elf bearing the seal of The Templar Knights of Mactan Island from afar. the young elf immediately goes to his lord*

Templar knight: Greetings, my liege. I bring forth news from afar.
Prince Abaddon:"I expected you earlier, newsbearer."
TK: forgive my being late my lord but trouble met me.
PA: very well. i already know what you are about to say. just send this message to Menelmacar
TK: yes, my lord. patuloy kang magsisilbing ilaw sa aming lahat..

*the letter sent..*

Lady Sirithil,

The Elven Realm of Mactan Island offers its deepest sympathy to what happened to you. Although we are elves who love peace and live in harmony with other races, we will look into this matter. But to protect the nation we live, we will not bear any seal except that of the Houses of Lothloriendalin, Krosha, Yavimaya, Mirari and Wirewood. The Templar Knights will act on the terrorism which has now plagued even our fair kind.

Prince Abaddon the Lightbearer
Supreme Lord, Templar Knights
House of Lothloriendalin
31-07-2003, 16:51
General Theallas is standing in a training room, a agent walks in, and whispers in his ear, he draws his sword in a a wide arc, five massive stone pillars fall

he has a cold anger in his eyes "Athena!"
A hologram "Yes Sir"
"I will be gone for several days"
"why sir?"
"Lady Sirithil has beeen kidnaped, and I intend to find out who did it"
"But she was only wounded"
"You learn many things when you evesdrop on Menelmacar coms, I senced a great deal of magic, right before she was kidnapped"
"how can you tell?"
"Athena, I did not become the best assasin in Menelmacar for nothing, a great magic was worked, I got the general area, in oter words I think I know from what country sent this, but not where lady Sirithil is. I beilive I am going to kill a friend. I would like you to witness that my actions here are in no way conected to Thelas"
"Yes Sir"

He boards a modified Twilight B (quick plug for Strak, he makes space fighters now! good ones at that!) that soars up into the ionishere, he goes to follow the magic.

OOC: if any one thinks that this is godmod please tell me, and no Magic is a godmodd, if you RP with Lady Sirithil, you have to respect the forces of magic.
OOC: Actually, I think it's a godmode. You don't know. I said that quite specifically at the beginning of the thread... nobody knows. If you want to suspect, go right ahead, but you don't... freaking... know..

Sorry, I tried to dit the post after reading it, but NS flunked out on me excuse me must go edt post
The Brotherhood of Nod
31-07-2003, 17:21
***Temple of Nod, Cairo, several levels below ground level***

*Videotaped ISN news just ends*

"Curious. I would expect them to show the imperialist elf on TV, showing the nation that she's recovering and such. Slavick, what do you think?" Kane remarked after watching the statement from ISN News again.

"It's fishy. No news whatsoever except for this one statement repeated over and over. No details, no more (probably empty) promises about the evil terrorists being searched for and "brought to justice", - whatever that means to a bunch of elves -, and more of the usual bragging." Slavick answered.

"Slavick, contact any terrorist group we fund that may have any relations to this event. Tell them that we want to know who was responsible, why they did it, and - the most important - how they bypassed elven security. We could learn much from them. Promise money, weaponry, whatever necessary to get that information."

"Yes mylord. Although I don't believe that an independant terror group was behind this."

"No, probably not. But you never know. Also, tell every informant in every nation to look for any information whatsoever that may have to do with this case. CABAL, analyze the terrorist attack on Sirithil." Kane said, after turning to one of the many computer screens present in the Temple.

"Menelmacari security is almost flawless. It is unlikely that one able to bypass elven security would only be able to cause minor injuries to Sirithil. It is highly unlikely that the ISN statement was correct.


"Chances that this was indeed a terrorist attack only wounding Sirithil are 12%. Chances that this was indeed a terrorist attack killing Sirithil are 27%. Chances that the terrorist attack is a hoax are 32%. Chances of inside elements only wounding Sirithil are 5%. Chances of inside elements killing Sirithil are 11%. Other possibilities are 13%."


"Sirithil being in coma, Sirithil being kidnapped, Sirithil attempting suicide."

"So we need more information, as expected." Kane said, then sighed.
31-07-2003, 18:48
Transmission to Menelmacar from AO diplomatic protocol channel:

We would like to extend out best wishes to Lady Sirithil and wish her a safe recovery and a rapid return to power. Any service that we can provide to help with any aspect of her well-being or the investigation of the circumstances surrounding this terrible act, we would be happy to help in any way we can. Also included with this broadcast are one hundred 'Get Well Soon' cards from children in schools all over Austrin-Ontis.


Transmission ends

"Interesting, very interesting indeed. Prepare the diplomatic protocol channel again Cadian, I believe we have some other nations to contact..."
31-07-2003, 19:25
Some flowers with a get well card where send to Menelmacari goverment. (ooc: Nataliya forgot to write the card in Quenya)

Still deep underground.

After looking over some datapads, and getting some food and drinks. The meeting resumes. "So has the Menelmacari goverment revealed anything new? Have your agents found anything?" Zhakarov said. "No. There hasn't ben any legit info released since the news broadcast." Said the middle aged man says. "Our agents however have ben searching a bit. It seems that Siri isn't in any hospitall. And no doctor or additional medical personell has ben send to her house. This still doesn't mean she isn't at home. But far less likely. She could be located inside a base. But trying to get inside them would take months of planning." He continued. "Ok. Put that on the list just in case it's going to take so long." Zhakarov said. And a new line was added to everyones datapad.

"As for the 'terrorists' that performed this. We have no leads. Nothing. They did this job well. To well for some terrorists if you ask me." An older man says. "We have started questioning poeple inside the city. Of course we're doing this after they have ben questioned by the Menelmacari. Realy they should look better after their assets after they're done with em." The young woman said. "Now what have you ben tolled about being so arrogant? Such behavior can be the downfall of us all. But you are right however about us questioning them." The old man says.

"So what can we conclude thusfar?" Zhakarov asks. "Well we can say that Siri isn't located in any hospitall. The chances she is at home recieving treatment there is less likely. There is a chance she is in a base recieving treatment however. And as stated we are planning on finding out if that might be the case.
It seems the chances of Sirithil being dead or lost are more likely. It's ben understood that in cases of extreme trauma poeple can forget thing like, who they are, and where they are. So she could be walking about somewhere. But I doubt it as it's a large city where everyone knows her.
She could be dead and the geverment is trying to cover up for that.
And then there's the unlike case that she's ben kidnapped. Most poeple would rather try to kill her, instead of keeping her alive. It's also much harder to kidnap someone." The middle aged man said.
"Ok. Continue with your work. We shall speak again in 6 hours." Zhakarov said as he slowly stood up.
31-07-2003, 19:47
Rialla paced.

Each footfall was heavy, unmeasured. Her thoughts, quite obviously, were disturbed - and quite concentrated on one subject. If they weren't... she'd be more quiet.

As it is, she doesn't notice the shadowy figure that taps a finger on her shoulder...

...and gets a rapid right hand on his jaw for the trouble.

The man reels backwards, hand clamping on the - bleeding - jaw. "Damnit, what the hell did you do that for?"

"You startled me," Rialla blurts, looking not in the least bit repentant. The IDF officer - the blue dash on his throat denotes a rank of Commodore, but the yellow mark on the right of the dash denotes that this is an honouray rank - scowls.

Rialla turned to the wide-arc window before her, set into the vast wall of the Hall. Turath... it was not a pretty city, by any standards. Thick black smoke hung over the west end of the city, just visible as a haze; apparently, there had been a house fire just hours earlier. Or so INN had said.

Rialla muttered, "Well?"

"Nothing," the IDF officer intoned.


"Not a damned squeak. Either they're ignoring us, or they're too busy with something to reply. I doubt the first. And the second is disturbing."

Rialla scowled. Semi Ran was in Dor Lomin; Bao Ling was overseeing the dig in Nenya, and far too busy to be called off of that; Si Ling was in the Dominion of Nathicana...

...which left her.

Oh, she was sure she could handle it. It was just... she didn't much want to. Whatever the hell it was. "Divert," she ordered the IDF officer... who, in fact, has nothing to do with the IDF.

He bobs his head, turning smartly on his heel with a click, and vanishes from sight again - that is, he becomes a mere shadow, to the likes of Rialla. Nenyans are quite capable of seeing each other, naturally - unless the other party is far better at empathic projection than the viewer. Which, in this case, is not true. Rialla has excellent 'vision'.

* * *

One of the dozen or so MISATs above Lodoss shifts orbit slightly, realigning to some new target on the ground, and quietly enacting a passive scan of comms transmissions heading into and out of Menelmacar.

There is, of course, a great chance of an intercept. Not such a good chance, however, of decrypting any intercept. But... certainly worth a try.
31-07-2003, 20:39
CBN news-

"Hello, I'm Jenny Peterson. Everyone is aware of the happening in Menelcamar, especially us Lodossians...However, this is something that is a bit of a shock...we were given this video clip by "War Declrad on j00", the international terrorists, who mainly work through the internet, and use our own country, chellis as a base(chellis is really lax on the internet, its really the only place you can pull of crime). Anyways, here is it...

"Greetings. I'm sure you all know of what happened to that poor elf chick, sirithil or whatever her name is. Yes, well, guess what? We pulled it off. We pulled it off perfectly. These damn elves are always holding these traditions and crap, but who cares about the past??? Technology is the future, and thats where everyone is headed...Maybe now they will start using guns to defend themselves, or something..."

"Well, that was...strange...but we wil lhave more on this later, I am sure...Now, The chellian military is in a recruitment drive once again, as th....."

OOC:I was RP'ing the terrorists, so don't correct me about wrong info. They got it wrong...
01-08-2003, 00:18
"Information on the terrorist attack that saw two dead and the Lady Sirithil Nos Feanor of Menelmacar is sketchy at best, but it appears that a wide array of investigative forces from many nations have been mobilised in an effot to discover those responsible. Lady Sirithil is said to be in stable condition, and is expected to return to her duties within days. No personal statement by the Lady has been issued. This is Xikuang Public Radio One news."

"And good for them." The Xikuangese general elected council had assembled, and the discussion before coming to order had turned to the attack on Menelmacar. Council member Sarekh Djijirin appeared to be interpreting the situation in a most jovial light, speaking mainly to Tenzin Tinle and Chanh Qirjis, seated near him. "The Lady had it coming to her, I say. All those years of capitalist oppression was bound to end up resulting in something like this. I just think it's a pity they didn't get any farther, eh? What would Menelmacar-- heck, what would Knootoss and the rest of them do if Lady Sirithil were assasinated? Ha ha!"

The big, bearded Kazakh grinned, looking around the chamber for the anticipated appreciation of his humour, but his face fell as he encountered the downcast eyes of Ahn Thi, and positively crumbled as he met the eyes of Dr. Xu, the Elected Chair, narrowed to slits and closely focused upon his own.

"May I remind the honourable councilor Sarekh that a difference of ideology does in no way alter the value of a life." Xian Xu uttered, in the clipped, quiet tone that all who knew her, even remotely, immediately understood to be indicative of anger. Xu was a tiny, scrawny woman, grey peppering her close-cropped hair, but she could be genuinely terrifying when she wanted to be. "Lives were lost. Though we could wish that the Lady Sirithil would more closely share our viewpoints, this can not entail that we should wish her ill."

"Sorry, Xian." the Kazakh mumbled sheepishly, suddenly very interested in the sugar content of his tea. Xu sighed, her expression falling back to its usual busy calm; in the absence of ire, she seemed to age a decade. "Nonetheless, I fear that a difference of ideology will mean that any expression of condolence by a CACE member nation will be met with suspicion, if not outright antipathy."

"Nonetheless, it seems only civil that we should send one." said Ahn Thi, who, in addition to serving on the General Council, was the elected chair of the committee for domestic harmony. "Our own relations with Menelmacar are peaceful. We should express our acknowledgement and regret over this incident." "Agreed." piped in Tenzin Tinle, renowned environmental warrior. "Xiang is in Kai Tamarawa, but in any case, given whom it is to whom such condolences should be expressed, I think the message should come directly from you, Xian." There were nods of agreement, and Xu herself nodded curtly. "I suppose so. I'll get right on it as soon as affairs here have reached conclusion. But first I'dlike to... what under heaven is the matter, Rinpoche?"

An individual of noble bearing and great presence, Thanh Sangye could easily be taken for a healthy man in his mid-fifties, but was in fact approaching eighty years of age. The orange sash he wore over his worn, but immaculate, grey suit declaimed his position as the abbott of a Buddhist gompa. Amongst the Buddhists, he was knows as Sangye Rinpoche. He had been instrumental in keeping alive the ancient traditions of Buddhist Xikuang throughout the occupation, though he risked torture and execution to do so. Now his expression showed deep concern, a distant worry; he stared into the distance as if trying to focus on something barely visible, very far away, shrouded in mists.

"This does not feel right." he said after a few moment's pause. "Not right at all. Why should they stop with the death of two and the slight injury of the Lady, terrorists who could get through Menelmacari security like that, and then vanish? There is some reason. Some reason why they did not stop. Why they did not strike harder." He closed his black eyes, still clear and lively despite his advanced age. "I do not understand."

A silence descended upon the room as each councilor became involved wit their own thoughts, and persisted for almost a minute and a half before Dr. Xu broke the silence.

"I shall send a telegram to Menelmacar upon conclusion of today's agenda. I now call the meeting of the Elected Council to order."

Some five hours later, the administrative business finished, Xu Xian remained in the Council offices-- she practically lived there anyway-- to pen her telegram to Menelmacar.

Greetings to Lady Sirithil nos Feanor, Elentari of the Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar, High Queen and Lady Protector:

May I express my sorrow at the incidents which have claimed the lives of two of your people and brought injury to your own person. For myself and on behalf of my people, I do unequivocally condemn such terrorist activities as have brought this upon you. I wish you a swift recovery, and offer my condolences for the loss your people have suffered."

I hope that should suffice, she thought, as she fed the message into the aging and pernickety fax machine which lived in the council offices. It refused to respond. Annoyed, Xu turned it off and on again, picked it up and held it upside down, removed the toner cartridge and put it back in again, whacked it, all measures she had seen taken by her secretary, who had been, regrettably, allowed to go home. The machine remained obstinate.

It would be another three hours before Xu finally managed to send the missal.
Santa Barbara
01-08-2003, 00:35
(OOC: Ma-Tek, your MISAT would almost certainly have picked up the message sent by Bob Pratt to Siri. And, it was encoded at a standard level 2 GovLevEnc, which wouldn't be that difficult to decrypt for you. Just so you know.)
01-08-2003, 18:54
From: Robert Theallas
To: Lady Sirithil nos Feanor

I heard of your wounding Lady Sirithil, hough the spy nets, it is major news in even the countries that hate you, I hope tha you heal soon, it wounds all of our kind to have our Lady Protecto wounded. I would also like to take this moment to point out that if you had moreguards this could have been avoided, although this is the thousanth time I have said this so it probably ill have no effect.

You Loyal Soldier
Robert Theallas


In the mean time, Robert is pacing his hotel roomin Menelmacar, thinking and pacing, and pacing and pacing. as he did, the Hologram of the AE Athena was whaching him, and getting anoind, "you know Robert, you are going to wear a hole in the floor"

"Athena stop worrrying, I was just thinking of Lady Siri, I should have been protecting her. jeez I was once a guard for her, I really screwed this assingment"

"And you should follow you own advice, CALM DOWN, you know Lady Siri, she would be fine in a couple of days. and if you are really feeling bad you should go vistit her"

"Your right Athena"

"I am?!"

"I will go vistit her, but where is she, last time I asked where Lady Sirithil is I got attacked by ove zealous Moranhossen (umlaught hey not working, Menelmcar do you seak German?), I got it, just a simple hack into the medical database, and I will be off."

"why did I open my mouth?"

OOC: I hope this is not a godmodd, sorry for the inconvenience, the reason Theallas is in Menelmcar is the To The Heart of Darkness in THe City of Light thread
Tor Yvresse
01-08-2003, 19:04
The Eldar team began the investiagtion from their own end slowly, this particular group was acting without official sanction it made things alot more difficult. They could hardly walk up too a guard and ask what had happened, and annouce who sent them. On the other hand those that had been present at the event would all have a story to tell, and the crowds present left a very fair number of such.

So they started to investigate simply to talk o the people, and find out what they saw... ((Do those present remember faining, and feeling odd, that would certainly stand out, for Tolkien Elves and lead them to abandon the simple terrorist angle who ever did that needed a much larger amount of resources.))
The Ctan
02-08-2003, 18:11
The group was convened as usual - secret messages delivered immediately, hidden codewords in otherwise normal transmissions. Eight shadowed figures sat at the table, the president, his deputy, the head of the armed forces, the navy, transorbital force, army, home defense and of course, the head of the ubiquitous intelligence service.

The Confederacy was one of the last to get this news, some things occasionally slip past the continuous monitoring efforts. (IOW, I missed this thread)

"So what is this about?" asked the Princeps, sitting down.
"Someone tried to kidnap Sirithil." said De Vere, the intelligence man, pressing a button, and bringing up a montage of photos, mostly of the ceremony before."
"Tell me that we have nothing to do with this!" he snapped.
"Of course, while it's our style, no ISA group was responsible" said De Vere.
"Good" said the Princeps "So who did?"

The deciever, aka Princeps Kopinski, considered the situation - while, in an act of scitzophenic weirdness, he also carried on the converstaion. This could hurt his long term plans. Annoyingly he'd never actually met Sirithil, or it would be a simple matter of diffusing himself to verify the ISN's claims. In the future he would have to send such people living metal-rings or some such to make locating them easy. And short of summoning a tombship to search, there was no sure way of ensuring that. Still, it did make this little game more interesting.

Some time later, he sent a get-well card - laced with small living-metal strands, now to see if it was actually sent anywhere, or remained in a box in Feanor Palace
02-08-2003, 18:15
ooc: Why don't poeple read EVERYTHING someone writes down?

This is something Siri said in her first post.
[OOC: Yes, she was kidnapped - but no, due to the nature of the attack, nobody outside the Mornahossë or Menelmacar's 'inner circle' actually knows. Please ensure that all IC responses reflect this fact.
Please keep her idea on how this RP turns out in mind.
Der Angst
02-08-2003, 18:42
"This is indeed a horrible event, and we wish our firm ally and good friend Lady Siri a fast recovery."

~ The associates

Meanwhile, Althena send a private message, including a bunch of genetically engineered flowers that never fade, to Menelmacar, to express her condolences about this horrible event.

(ooc: and, despite the fact that she`s the chief of my intelligence service, no, there is NO agent on it`s way to Menelmacar, and nobody suspects anything (except a menelmacari releases information to soldats (Siri holds 25% of soldtas, so...), but thats up to her).)
Tor Yvresse
02-08-2003, 19:05
ooc: Why don't poeple read EVERYTHING someone writes down?

This is something Siri said in her first post.
[OOC: Yes, she was kidnapped - but no, due to the nature of the attack, nobody outside the Mornahossë or Menelmacar's 'inner circle' actually knows. Please ensure that all IC responses reflect this fact.
Please keep her idea on how this RP turns out in mind.

OOC Hence why most people are trying to find out what happened. We all know governments lie to cover this sort of thing up, so we are trying to find out for ourselves. Ctan for intance is sending a gift that will help him confirm, where investigating the attack etc. No one has for a while posted anything saying it succeded. We may suspect however.
02-08-2003, 20:02
ooc: Why don't poeple read EVERYTHING someone writes down?

This is something Siri said in her first post.
[OOC: Yes, she was kidnapped - but no, due to the nature of the attack, nobody outside the Mornahossë or Menelmacar's 'inner circle' actually knows. Please ensure that all IC responses reflect this fact.
Please keep her idea on how this RP turns out in mind.

OOC Hence why most people are trying to find out what happened. We all know governments lie to cover this sort of thing up, so we are trying to find out for ourselves. Ctan for intance is sending a gift that will help him confirm, where investigating the attack etc. No one has for a while posted anything saying it succeded. We may suspect however.
Well no one is suppossed to know about the fact she was kidnapped. And then Ctan (like Thelas before him. Luckilly he redeemed himself) That they knew she was kidnapped.
"Someone tried to kidnap Siri." said De Vere
But let's not turn this into an ooc discussion.
If you see fit to do so. You may delete these ooc posts of mine Siri. For the sake of preserving good roleplay.
The Ctan
02-08-2003, 22:18
That they knew she was kidnapped.
"Someone tried to kidnap Siri." said De Vere
But let's not turn this into an ooc discussion.
If you see fit to do so. You may delete these ooc posts of mine Siri. For the sake of preserving good roleplay.

OOC: Wrong, tried as anyone would realistically tell by them not shooting her insead of the guards (Did you see the Kennedy assasin pick off the SS guys?) The would be assassins would have to be incredibly inneffective to kill the three guards nearest to her and not hit her - they do not think that she was kidnapped, they only think that was the objective. :roll:

Now, let the hijack be ended.
03-08-2003, 03:51
bump, bump and where is Menelmacar
The Brotherhood of Nod
03-08-2003, 09:19
Or Whispering Voices...I'm hungry for new information to feed my AI...
03-08-2003, 11:09
[OOC: Sorry, I'm not sure what information Menelmacar has released, and I'm not sure how the citizens of Vinyatirion would respond to eldar questionning them over the attack on their Queen. So I can't really contribute or give responses; I'm assuming that for the past few (Nationstates fluid weeks) Menelmacar has just been refusing to answer any and all enquiries publicly. I'm going to do some IC flavour text, merely to try to minimise the increasing number of OOC posts, but it's not really going to be much help to anyone because there's no way of knowing. Oh well.]

Rain pattered down on the low, translucent dome, running down the surface in waves. The tired albatross had been harried by the brutal weather that had chased it down from its arctic climes, and it flapped with battered wings over a steely-grey sea, feathers blown into awkward angles. With strain in its orange eyes, it gratefully descended towards the marble island below, coming to rest on stone slicked with ice.

It huddled in the lee of a rockface, grateful for resting its wings and the time to digest the fish it had snapped up earlier. Below it, odd things moved. It didn't know them, didn't recognise them. They weren't from fishermen or the trawlers that it followed for scraps, and they weren't the local boys that tried to assail the cliffs where it had nested to steal its eggs. Odd, they looked. Shiny, with legs like birds but arms like men. Round heads, dark and bright in patterns.

The wind changed direction then, ruffling its feathers again. With a squawk of annoyance, it took off, and glided down to a hole in the rock face. Webbed feet splayed awkwardly on the iced rock, it ducked inside to shelter. And it stopped, went still. The albatross was old, and wise for such a creature. It knew men, and it liked them; but it did not like this.

It could see a slab of some sort, constructed of odd-colored rock. Imprisoned by several bands of metal, a tall female was exuding an aura of defiance. Long, lush blonde hair poured over the end of the altar, almost reaching the mosaiced ground below. Standing near, holding a curved knife and with his back to the albatross, a man appeared to be squawking in human to her, and she back.

The albatross stopped, and watched. The things that happened did not mean much to it, but the first cry of pain and helplessness that echoed out of the door was enough to send it scuttling away, back into the foul weather.

Rest good, island bad it thought, as it hauled itself into the sky to continue its journey. The wind was too strong for the sound of screams to follow far. (
03-08-2003, 11:18
Turelio had been fielding all inquiries carefully. It was always the same - the Lady had been injured; she was still recovering. He thanked all international well-wishers for their concern and promised Lady Sirithil would be responding personally as soon as she was able. After about a week there were periodic releases stating that complications had arisen, and assorted fairly high-level magical healing rituals and surgical operations would be necessary. Always, though, he maintained that the Lady was not in danger of dying, that everything was under control, and that Sirithil would appear soon.

There was worry in the streets. The stock markets began a slow decline, MIDF units' morale dipped, people talked. And Serendis - technically in charge of things for the meantime - took personal command of the investigation... Sirithil would be found. Sirithil must be found.
03-08-2003, 11:55
"Something's up."

The one addressed looks up from his cup of coffee, a bland, non-descript looking person. Unmemorable.

"I agree, Tolj... this has the scent of an information lockdown. They're stonewalling."

Tolj looks out at the vista presented by their seats on a hotel balcony for a moment. He speaks.

"Yes. Minor injuries to the target, and collateral damage of 3 deaths? For a unit professional enough to breach Menelmacari security that seems unlikely... implausible, even."

He looks thoughtful for an instant, his vaguely attractive features creasing up.

"Fervu.... where did Vabar and Krils go, again?"

Fervu sighs. "Tolj. You're getting forgetful again - you should be getting treatment back in Andulos, not on a mission. They're sourcing - talking to the common folk, getting ne- speak of the devil, they're back."

A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing the equally boring-looking Vabar and Krils. Krils holds aloft a transcript of a press release as Vabar closes the door.

"Complications. Arcane healing rituals. Surgery..... pfah, this smells suspicious. Though the reports might be true, I guess. Nothing much from the people, general worry, some rumors."

Fervu shrugs. "We can't get much from just surveying the standard sources.... I think we'll be bringing out some equipment by the end of the week."

Vabar nods, getting a cup of water. "I was just talking to the NST on the job. They seem quite curious about the..... well, call it clumsiness of the stonewall, if that's what it is. Voice samples and decent CGI would fool just about anybody."

Tolj shakes his head. "As soon as someone proved it was a fabrication the whole thing would be blown out of the water. I guess they thought it was too risky. The very news that Lady Sirithril is injured caused the stock market to dip. Imagine if became known that she was gravely wounded, dead, or worse. Where is the NST operating from, anyway?"

Vabar swallows a gulp of water.

"Home base - not that anyone could trace them. They've just been monitoring information flow so far. [Also checking the volume of high level encrypted info being sent to and fro - Menelmacari government departments, close allies of Menelmacar...] Wonder what they'll find.] And I'm told they'd be getting new processors from R&D soon."
03-08-2003, 12:25
hey, Menelmacar, what did Theallas turn up in the hacking, he was looking for the hospital that Sirithil was reported in, well it is not Theallas actualy it is his AI Athen, because what he turns up will ell me how Robert will handle this, wether he will go vistit her, or if he does not turn up anything, will he become susspicious
03-08-2003, 13:16
"Stonewalling," Rialla barked, frustration beginning to set in, "and if they're talking to anyone, it sure as hell isn't us. This... this is..."

She growled, hurling the flexisheet across the room. Not an efficient action, mind. Flexisheets just don't fly that well. She swore, in Nenyan, a brief barking of syllables. The RISE agent blinked in surprise. "Milady... they could be telling the truth."

"From minor injuries to requiring 'special surgery' and that magic nonsense? Bite a brick."

The agent cleared his throat. It had certainly been a while since he heard that one. "Orders, milady?"

"I have no idea," Rialla sighed, settling into her chair with a grunt, "but I'm tempted to send one of you fine gentlemen to Menelmacar. Yet... the Law makes no provision for direct espionage against an ally. Damnit, they're almost kin. And you know how the law speaks of Kin, man. There's nothing to be done. Nothing. We just... have to live with it."

The agent nodded, melting back into the shadows - but not before sighing quietly.

Rialla was left alone with her thoughts. Heir to the throne, daughter of the Emperor, and... utterly helpless to do a damned thing.
The Ctan
05-08-2003, 11:27
05-08-2003, 11:38
The Roanians, still uneasy about the news that their treachery had been revealed by traitors, and their ambassador to Angband's subsequent combustion, argued amongst themselves. "Who did this?" Edward Black asked, about the explosion.

"Our spies, those that have not been killed, have no idea, but there is something we are not being told. That's all we can get out." Dean Gray murmered, apologetically.

"Does Lord Melkor know?" Edmund Hyacinth asked uneasily. "That explosion could have been caused by him or his agents"

"No. I doubt it." Around the table, the corporate heads nodded at Lilian Mcclean's statement.

"We should find out more before we act." Edward Black decided. "Now, to more pressing business. The war with Kioshi is going well. Do we have large enough slave holdings to hold the coming prisoners?"
The Brotherhood of Nod
06-08-2003, 15:08
Bumped for the Greater Good.
07-08-2003, 20:13
07-08-2003, 20:28

Venerable Lady Sirithil and cohorts,

We were shocked and dismayed to learn of this most foul betrayal. It is truly upsetting when one's inferiors rise up; it has been our experience that it is the fist, and the fist alone, that can reshape matters into their proper form.

While our previous communications have been tenous at best, and Mallberta has rarely enjoyed positive relations with your Elven kin, it would be our pleasure to offer you a unique service available only within the deepest halls of our society.

As you are no doubt well aware, Mallberta has removed individual drive and will within it's lowest classes, and as a pleasant and beneficial side effect of this process, we have been able to 'decant' memory from an individual subject, whether willing or otherwise.

Should you capture one of these terrorist, or manage to preserve a brain not long dead, we would be able to strip it of memory, and inform you of all relevant information contained therein. This of course nessecitates that you send said subjects to us; the other option would be for us to establish a Mallbertan embassy of sorts upon your soil.


Damodrea The Inductor
High Commandante

11-08-2003, 16:51
because Menelmacar is on right now BUMP
15-09-2003, 00:46
[OOC: Tagged]