NationStates Jolt Archive

The otaku smiled at Stephanie as she addressed him, and said to Lord Brythain, "Ah, I hope you won't feel I'm leaving you in the lurch here, but diplomatic duties call. You're welcome to join us," he added, standing up and bowing with respect to the delegate from Enn. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'd be most delighted to make you and your friends' acquaintance."

The young uniformed lady accompanying the otaku gave Stephanie a glance, appraising the foreign dignitary with a polite but formal smile.

Cleaning up the debris and removing the splinters from Jeremy's face before tucking him up comfortably in one of the overnight-stay units, Neville sighs happily.

Brawls, plots, alliances and deals; confidences, confessions and confusion; the Bar is once more ticking over nicely.

BFFG winced. Four words beginning with "con" were too much for the alcohol-poisoned vocabulary centers of his brain to take. "Bring me a cup of coffee, Neville! Preferably Klatchian!" There was a brief pause, followed by, "Add a drop of Wow-Wow Sauce, while you're at it, my good man." This in turn was followed by a loud thumping noise as BFFG's head collided with the bar.

Byron woke up with a start and jumped to his feet. Whilst passed out he had an out of body experience where he petitioned the UN to sticky the Bar but the stuffy shirts had got their way.
He walked over to neville and gently pushing bffg of his chair he ordered a strong coffee with out any additive.
Looking around at the Usual suspects he could not find the Member for Bahgum or indeed any mother in laws. turning to neville he added " when bahgum drops in pour him his evenings ale on my slate."

OOC for BFFGS benefit, i presumed you had knocked your self out! :D

Oddly, and as suspected, the honourable and sozzled member for Bahgum appears, as if by magic, at the mere mention of a free drink. 'by eck, ta muchly fer t'drink owd lad'.

Bahgum has been busy keeping the petition on the front page of the UN forum, if only for the laugh we get at the ludicrously useless arguments from the stuffed shirts.....

what a great bar better than the real deal!!!!!!!!!!!

what a great bar better than the real deal!!!!!!!!!!!
Yes, indeed, reflected Neville. The Real Deal was a terribly cheap casino on the other side of town, and he had no real desire to even sense a comparison of any sort between the two.

Varia smiled somewhat nervously at the Kawaiians joining her and Stephanie at the bar. She'd surreptitiously paged Mathieu to get some info while Stephanie had introduced herself to the otaku. His response had been terse - 'nutters, the lot of them' - and suggestive of not a little strain. Feeling guilty, she made a mental note to leave the bar soon and give her deputy a hand.

"Varia Yefremova, Ecopoeia's Speaker to the UN and, as of a week ago, the Anticapitalist Alliance's regional delegate. I believe we may have come into brief contact in the discussions over my nation's proposal. Um, no hard feelings, I hope?"

A guy walks into a bar.....and says "Ouch!".

No seriously I'll have a Zeigenbock and the biggest Cuban Churchill cigar they have here....Oh Yeah :D

Jeremy of Cybertoria after recovering from hangover, gose to the karyoke area and sings

"There’s another world inside of me
That you may never see
There’s secrets in this life
That I can’t hide
Somewhere in this darkness
There’s a light that I can’t find
Maybe it’s too far away...
Maybe I’m just blind...

Maybe I’m just blind...

[chorus]
So hold me when I’m here
Love me when I’m wrong
Hold me when I’m scared
And love me when I’m gone
Everything I am
And everything you need
I’ll also be the one
You wanted me to be
I’ll never let you down
Even if I could
I’d give up everything
If only for your good
So hold me when I’m here
Love me when I’m wrong
You can hold me when I’m scared
You won’t always be there
So love me when I’m gone
[end chorus]

Love me when I’m gone...

When your education x-ray
Can not see under my skin
I won’t tell you a damn thing
That I could not tell my friends
Roaming through this darkness
I’m alive but I’m alone
Part of me is fighting this
But part of me is gone

[chorus]

Maybe I’m just blind...

[chorus]

Love me when I’m gone...

Love me when I’m gone
When I’m gone
When I’m gone
When I’m gone"

The otaku smiled and bowed respectfully to Varia, saying, "Otaku 5th Degree, Nuncio of the Eternal Kawaii to the United Nations, at your service, ma'am. Varia of Ecopoeia, you say?" he added, humming to himself. "Ah yes...the authors of that human rights proposal under debate in committee. Yes, we've been following it rather closely. I took the liberty of getting our Conclave of Joy's take on it; I suppose you've seen their response? We entered it in the public record for the proceedings. Good news--it seems our nations are not as opposed to one another as first impressions might have left."

"But enough about such tiresome things. I trust you're enjoying yourself here? I must admit, such goings on..." gesturing slightly at the passed-out gentlemen at the end of the bar "...are rather alien to me. Still, learning about one another's customs is one of the UN's goals, I believe."

Byron applauded Jeremies singing abilities and removed the ear plugs he had fashioned from chewed pieces of beermat. A drink to our crazy binge my friend he said buying a round for the bar. Sitting there all happy for no particular reason, he nodded to young Varia. Well arent you the proper little diplomat? he said to her with a smile. And to think you were worried?

Lord Brythain felt vaguely uncomfortable. There it was again! The strange sensation that accompanied the playful release of bioweapons.

Invoking his aspect as the Death of Ancients, he called into being a web of swift discernment and destruction. The web spread instantaneously through the room, killing five cases of thrush, a large number of anthrax spores, various rhinoviri, and a wide range of other diseases. A bacterial colony on the verge of sentience was obliterated, never to inhale the aroma of a fine stout on a cloudy Thursday evening.

Shaking his head, he called for another Guinness. He was developing a taste for the finer things of humanity.

Stephanie felt... something happen. She quickly looked around, only to notice that the infected blister on her ankle had mysteriously vanished.

"Well, that's odd. Anyway, Neville, get the otaku and Lord Brythain Ennish shandies."

She was always on the lookout for new markets for Ennish shandies, and had secured several contracts in the Strangers' Bar as a direct result of that drink.

*Adaine sent a message to the Mage Thrael telling him the kawaiiiams were here. Adaine knew they had the power to heal mental and phyisical damage to bodies. Avarhierrim would need more information on them.*

The young lady in the Happiness Police uniform who had been studying Stephanie quietly while the otaku talked shop with Varia broke her silence, and said politely, "Shandies? I'm sorry, ma'am, but does that involve...alcohol? If it does, I'm afraid we must decline." Her tone of voice was warm but a bit intense, her body language clearly expressing her discomfort at her surroundings.

The young lady in the Happiness Police uniform who had been studying Stephanie quietly while the otaku talked shop with Varia broke her silence, and said politely, "Shandies? I'm sorry, ma'am, but does that involve...alcohol? If it does, I'm afraid we must decline." Her tone of voice was warm but a bit intense, her body language clearly expressing her discomfort at her surroundings.
"Ah, I knew this would happen someday. I'd meet someone who doesn't drink comulsively as soon as they enter the bar. Don't worry, I always try to plan ahead.
"Neville, get the Eternal Kawaiians some of those non-alcoholic Shandies I got you to order a while back. They should still be sitting around somewhere."

:) hey to all you cuties in here my name is ryan an im 16 anyone wana talk gimme a telegram wow that sounds so gay

The young lady in the Happiness Police uniform who had been studying Stephanie quietly while the otaku talked shop with Varia broke her silence, and said politely, "Shandies? I'm sorry, ma'am, but does that involve...alcohol? If it does, I'm afraid we must decline." Her tone of voice was warm but a bit intense, her body language clearly expressing her discomfort at her surroundings.

BFFG fell out of his barstool, his mouth agape. His jaw opened and closed several times, but no words came out. When they did, he wheezed, "No... alcohol?!?" He shook his head sadly. Yet another species who would never know the pleasure of the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.

Not an imbiber of shandies by nature, Brythain thoughtfully swirled the Ennish drink around in his mouth. He meditated for a while on the similarities between Ennish shandy and Guinness stout. After another while or two, his auxilliary forebrain reminded him that he had been meditating on nothing in particular and it was time to do something else.

Yes. He had a meeting to attend. Something to do with National Sovereignty.

"Non...alcoholic? I'm not sure about this," the Happiness Police officer said slowly, a puzzled look on her features.

"It's not a problem, my dear," the otaku said, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sure Neville here stocks suitable drink." Turning to Stephanie, he smiled and added, "I'm afraid she's a bit overprotective at times."

"This won't look good on my report, sir," the otaku's companion said briskly. "I mean, drinking with foreigners, and in a place like this...even if the drink itself is not kinshi, the act is still open to question..."

"Oh, posh. There's nothing ecchi going on here," the otaku replied. "Simply good diplomatic practice."

ooc: Enn, The Eternal Kawaii - sorry, I've got too much on at the mo to keep up with this.

ic: Muttering embarrassed apologies to her colleagues, Varia Yefremova left the Bar to attend to the mountain of paperwork that had claimed occupancy rights over her office.

Jeremy clears his throught and sings again!


"The chase is better the the catch.

Transforming the tunes we need your support
if you've got the breath back.
It's the first page of the second chapter!
I want you back for the rhythm-attack coming down on the floor like a maniac.
I want you back for the rhythm-attack. Get down in full effect!
I want you back for the rhythm-attack coming down on the floor like a maniac.
I want you back so clean up the dish.
By the way, how much is the fish?!!
How much is the fish?!!
Here we go, here we go, here we go again!!
Yeeah!!
Sunshine in the air!!

We're breaking the rules. Ignore the machine.
You won't ever stop this.
The chase is better than the catch!
I want you back for the rhythm-attack coming down on the floor like a maniac.
I want you back for the rhythm-attack. Get down in full effect!
I want you back for the rhythm-attack coming down on the floor like a maniac.
I want you back so clean up the dish.
By the way, how much is the fish?!!

How much is the fish?!!
Yeeehaah!!
Sunshine in the air!!

C'mon!!!
Na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na .. Everybody!!
Na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na .. C'mon!! Together!!
Yeeaaah!!!
How much is the fish?!!
How much is the fish?!!
Yeeaaah!!!
C'mon, c'mon!! Aaaah!
Resurrection!"

Wade woke up in the closet. "Woah, I gotta stop hanging out here"

OOC: I'm gonna take a break from here, not enough time to visit the Strangers Bar.

Neville felt distinctly nervous -- not on his own account, but on behalf of the beleaguered otaku. If the poor diplomat was to enjoy himself, something needed to be done about his minder, the representative of the Council of Joy.

The thing to do, he decided, was to distract her with something even such a strict follower of the national religion would find acceptably cute. Neville considered whether he, himself, might meet the need. In the traditional Barlord garb of black velvet, black satin and just a touch of black lace he was acceptable in any company, but ... cute? Not really.

The situation was becoming urgent, however. There was already a disapproving wrinkle in the charming tip-tilted nose of the Happiness Police officer. She all too evidently suspected that the lyrics of Jeremy's song were decidedly ecchi.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. To buy a few seconds' grace, Neville poured a measure of prominently labelled Non-Alcoholic Ennish Shandy into a fetching milk-glass beaker with a Sanrio Kitten decal and two unbelievably delicious handles modelled as stretching kitties. Then, pushing it over to the sailor-suited guardian of public happiness, he summoned his Barlordly powers.

"Wade, come back for a minute! Pojo! Brother Tim -- and wear your Christmas reindeer boxers!" was his telepathic cry.

Just in case the penguin, the little alien and the amiable monk did not prove cute enough, his telepathic plea went further afield.

"General Forum! Has Fairy Tink Arisen? If so, send her here! Moderation! Is --" he searched his memory for the cutest mod " -- Katganistan around?" (personally, he thought Fris was cuter, but Kat was, after all, feline). "Tech? Gameplay? ... No, maybe not. NR? II? Legions of kittens, mice, elves, furry little whatevers, now! To the Strangers' Bar! Please!"

Evelyn Bennet walks in, holding a cup of coffee with one hand, and stifling a yawn with the other. Upon seeing the others in the bar, she manages a "Top of the mornin' to you!," and settles herself at the nearest table. She takes out the rolled up newspaper that was from her coat pocket, and begins to read, taking a sip of coffee every minute or so.

BFFG sat at the bar, grumbling to himself. "To ya, it's top of the mornin' to ya."

BFFG sat at the bar, grumbling to himself. "To ya, it's top of the mornin' to ya."

Evelyn downs the rest of her coffee.

"My apologies. I don't often use the phrase. I just thought it would be a way to brighten the morning. Next time I will be sure to say it correctly"

She returns to her paper, and brings her coffee cup to her lips, only to realize it's empty. She fixes the empty cup with a glare. Heaving a sigh of exasperation, she resumes reading

The fat man grinned. "Ah, that's all right. Here, Neville, buy the lady another cup o' coffe on me." He turned to the delegate from Pantalonystan. "My names Big Friendly Fat Guy, the ambassador from Fatus Maximus."

Nevile would you hand me 4 pints of moonshine please?

*Adaine caught Nevilles telepathic message and starts hyperventalating. Avariens had a phobia of cute things. The Mage Thrael would kill him if he left. this didn't look good*

Stephanie suddenly stiffened with alarm, then rushed out the door.

Upon returning, she whispered to Neville, "You've got to be careful with things like that. Nearly got Reppy in here, and a ginormous sword is about as far from 'cute' as you can get."

Neville would have been more concerned (and more grateful to Stephanie) if he hadn't been so busy barring the doors and windows and trying to block up the chimney.

He hadn't realised just how many cutesy-poo liddle beasties there were in NS. Or how enthusiastically helpful they were, either.

Fluffy-wuffy bunny-wabbits, teeny kittens with the darling-est blue bows and plump wriggly puppies with one floppy ear and huge, sad eyes were flooding in. But they were the least of his worries. There might be some problems clearing them out of the drains later, but they weren't teleporting into the Bar like the giant furry (and oddly cute) pastel rainbow cane-toads.

Violet Bracket, overhearing Stephanie's warning, looked up sharply.

"Personally, I think a ginormous sword would be distinctly useful right now," she said.

Failing that, she seized a tennis racquet that someone had left behind and began putting it to good use.

The fat man grinned. "Ah, that's all right. Here, Neville, buy the lady another cup o' coffe on me." He turned to the delegate from Pantalonystan. "My names Big Friendly Fat Guy, the ambassador from Fatus Maximus."

A hint of a smile threatens to appear on Evelyn's face. She quietly thanks Big Fat Friendly Guy for the cup of coffee. She then says, "It's nice to meet you, Big Fat Friendly Guy. I'm Evelyn Bennet, representative from Pantalonystan."

A young woman strolls into the room, humming to herself. She seems to be in her late twenties, but you really couldn't hazard a guess. She flops into one of the leather chairs in front of the fire and slips off her sandals, wiggling her toes in the warmth and purring for a moment. She's most unconventionally dressed - you didn't even know they made suits in denim and tie-dye.

She pulls a hip flask from a pocket with a smiley face patch on it, goes to take a drink, and frowns as she finds it empty.

"Hey, can I get an amaretto sour over here? Thanks, hon." She waves happily at the other delegates. "Nika Baptiste, Ambassador from Cocoalovia. Nice to meet you all. Had to get away from the debating for a little bit, some serious negative energy in there sometimes, don't you think?" Nika sips her drink and smiles contentedly around the room. "So, how's tricks for you all, then?"

*Adaine was a far as he could get from the chimneys, doors and windows crouched in a ball, the sword slung over his back forgotten.*

Prince Esheram Byron had sat for a while now almost perfectly still staring at nothing in particular. He wondered what had become of his friend, the bandaged Iron Pig, whom he had not seen of late in the bar. His mind now thought of his own liniage and what would become of his nation and that of the Realm if he just dissapeared. Having no children and being the only living relative of King james the First of the Venerable Libertarians, Benevolent Overlord to the Realm of Hibernia and thus being the only successor to King James. If Prince Byron was Killed who would succeed Him?
At 31 years old he was still young and although his father had always pressured him to wed from a very young age Byron had always resisted it prefering to "sow the royal oats" as it where. But since his father had died the thoughts of succession had come to the fore. His eyes moved to the very pretty and svelt Voilet Bracket whom he had met when he first arrived in the bar. He had been the first patron to be served by her as it was her first day and the Newly Posted rep for the Realm to the UN had been made at ease by her presence. However Violet was not of Royal Blood and he sighed as she could never be his Princess. No, He would have to look to the Other members of the UN for his bride and mother to his Children. He wanted a wife who was intelligent, Pretty and who would be a great mother.
He looked at Stephanie of Enn and realised he had no idea of her background or that of any other woman in the Bar.
He looked to the barkeep and called him.
"Neville, A Guinness dear friend and perchance some information on the Ladies frequenting these premises."

Caroline Trotter slunk in, quietly taking a corner booth and opening a large brown briefcase. She waved for service, and, after requesting a Long Island Iced tea and some food she opened one of the many folders and flipped to the page she had been working on in the office.

The otaku and his ever-watchful HP minder stood speechless for a moment as more and more of the small, brightly colored and undeniably cute animals begain appearing in and around the bar, popping up between liquor bottles, underneath the singer's amplifier, and out of the pockets of the coats hanging on the rack near the door. The young lady turned to her senior and said, wide-eyed, "Is this...."

"...a Manifestation? It has to be!" the otaku replied, a look of rapture on his face. Leaping to his feet, he shouted out, "Praise the Eternal Kawaii! Behold, a miracle!"

With that, the priest began doing an odd sort of jig, apparently one of the liturgical dances deemed appropriate for such (admittedly unusual) occurences. The HP officer began clapping her hands in time with his steps as he began chanting a cheerful yet annoyingly repetitive phrase, inviting all present to commune with the Manifestation...

"Now I see why they don't drink alcohol," BFFG muttered to himself, staring at the otaku.

As the priest danced, the little animals crept forth from shelter and formed an admiring ring around him. Twittering melodiously, bluebirds flew about his head. The red and white spotted caps of fairytale mushrooms sprouted from the carpet, and tiny beings with gossamer wings appeared, sipping daintily from crystal glasses. Friendly old trees with mossy beards leaned closer to view the merry scene, and daisies pushed their curious faces from the lush grass to wink engagingly at the mischievous satyrs who lurked knowingly in the ...

"Oh. My. God," croaked Neville. "He has raised the Oldest One, the Dead Who Will Not Die, the very spirit of -- Disney!"

The Grand Duke stepped back into the bar. Something was... different. His questing eyebrows swept around the room, panicking a couple of too-cute swallows trying to set up a nest.

Almost stepping on a couple of mushrooms who squeaked at him, he made his way to the bar for a Guinness and a half of winter wine.

Then it dawned on him. Things were TOO CUTE.

And then, as if to illustrate the insanity, a Yisharo and a Yithian walked into the room, the Yithian using its complicated language of clicks to respond to t he Yisharo's use of what could only be a madness-inspire set of sounds. Then, they both looked up at the bar and the Yithian shimmered away as the communication hologram shut off. The Yisharo, Dehlehlah of the DLE delegation, made a sound of annoyance and walked over to the bar.

"I'd like a tequila and vodka mixer with a side of pig's blood," Dehlehlah said to the bartender, turning towards the manifestation afterwards.

"Nice spirit summoning. But, if you wish, I can make it a bit more real. You won't need to devote small amounts of energy to it then," she said, reaching into her vest to grab the small notebook in case her offer was taken up.

Dehlehlah appeared to be a normal human, with brown eyes and hair and standing around two meters in height. Yet, the very air around her seemed, for lack of a better term, wrong. It wasn't her Asian-style eyes in spite of a pale complexion, but just her in general. Her clothes were a brown leather vest, black jeans, a red t-shirt, and boots. Yet the leather seemed reminiscent of something that caused the mind to turn away in fear, the jeans almost appeared to have more space to the pockets than should be possible under the laws of physics, and the t-shirt had a general feel about it of the color resulting not from dyes but from something entirely unwholesome.

It wouldn't take long for anyone to figure out that the graviton generators had been turned on again, meaning the laws of reality were being further perverted by the DLE delegation in some insanity-induced experiment, thus explaining the weirdness surrounding Dehlehlah. Or, at least, that's what people would tell themselves later, when they were not wanting to guess at more horrible truths. But the fact that was undeniable was that, in spite of their being driven beyond the reaches of normal human mentalities by their experiments, the Yisharo did get results, even if the results had a heavy price to them.

Or if the result consisted of buying a round of drinks for everyone, BFFG signaled using his nonexistant telepathic powers. He glanced over at the otaku and fought the urge to start singing the "Hi ho, hi ho," song.

"Ye gods," Stephanie muttered, staring blankly at the unbearable cuteness that was welling up from everywhere, and nowhere, "Maybe I should have let Reppy in. A ninja mod with a massive sword would definitely help right about now."

Then she looked up, and saw someone that seemed unaccountably wrong. However, never one to shirk her diplomatic duties, she went over, and introduced herself.

"Hello, I'm Stephanie Fulton, representative of the Triumvirate of Enn. I don't believe we've met, but there is something familiar about you.
"Don't worry about all the cuteness around at the moment, with luck it'll be going soon and we can go back to usual bar business.
"And you are?"

Jeremy of Cybertoria said "In the keryoke area, I will know perform a song by ZZ Top!"

"I got to have a shotOf what you got it's oh so sweetYou got to make it hotLike a boomerang I need a repeatGimme all your lovin'all you hugs and kisses tooGimme all your lovin'don't let up until we're throughYou got to whip it upAnd hit me like a ton of leadIf I blow my topWill you let it go to your headGimme all your lovin'all your hugs and kisses tooGimme all your lovin'don't let up until we're throughYou got to move it upAnd use it like a screwball wouldYou got to pack it upWork it like a new boy wouldGimme all your lovin'all your hugs and kisses tooGimme all your lovin'don't let up until we're through"

She smiled. This one was brave to approach her. Most people were not that willing to approach anything that automatically made them nervous.

"I am Dehlehlah of the DLE delegation. Two degrees in physics, one degree in psychology, four degrees in alternate physics. I've been sent here simply because everyone from my group was sent here. Apparently, those at home worry about our sanity and believe what we are doing has had adverse affects on our minds. Enn, eh? I believe I've seen you around the halls. I normally don't venture around here, but I was following a temporal eddy at the time and this is where it led before I lost it," Dehlehlah said.

Darkness and light. Bitter and sweet. Immeasurably cheered by his unusual drink, which he christened 'Nuclear Winter', Brythain felt sufficiently mellow to enjoy watching the encounter between two of the most interesting ladies he had ever seen.

"Neville," the Grand Duke purred, "Why not start offering a special set of drinks? They could be called 'Silent Spring', 'Viral Summer', 'Chemical Autumn', and 'Nuclear Winter'. They'd fit in quite well with the current spate of legislation."

Neville enjoyed the Grand Duke. His latest inspiration deserved more response than just a polite smile.

"Given their explosive content, those who survived all four drinks could be known as 'Weathermen'," he suggested, hoping the aristocrat's sensibilities would not be offended by a light reference to the iconic revolutionaries; you never could tell with aristos.

However, it was difficult to concentrate on banter when there were still so many abhorrently cute things going on.

Surreptitiously, Neville checked the display lights on the various Acme Co Ltd technological marvels he'd installed. They all seemed to be working, but the Disney manifestation had not disappeared.

Still, he knew from watching UN debates during slack periods in the Bar that stra-a-ange things happened when the DLE delegation got fired up. He turned to their premier diplomat.

"Nice spirit summoning. But, if you wish, I can make it a bit more real. You won't need to devote small amounts of energy to it then," she said ...
"Ah ... if you could make it a bit more real, is there any chance you could make it a bit less real? Like, get rid of it?" he queried the multiply over-qualified Dehlehlah.

"I'd like a tequila and vodka mixer with a side of pig's blood," Dehlehlah said to the bartender, turning towards the manifestation afterwards.
"And, uh, about the pig's blood: would you prefer it body temperature, room temperature or lightly chilled?"

The otaku continued his cheerfully mind-numbing chant, while the collection of small animals began gravitating towards his end of the bar. Bushy tails and bright feathers whisked their way between people's drinks, and a band of enterprising squirrels seemed to be engaged in mass robbery of the peanut bowls that had been placed out in regular intervals.

The Happiness Police officer had the presence of mind to stop her clapping for a moment and call the Eternal Kawaiian delegation on her cellphone. Clearly more otaku were needed to pay witness to this Manifestation; otherwise her superiors would never believe her report. In a place like this, one's reputation was always on the line.

"Yes, third degree and higher, as many as you can grab; I don't know how long this will last. No, we are NOT 'going native' here, how can you think of such a thing?!?! And alert the Conclave of Beauty detachment; this may be environmentally related."

[OOC: "Disney"? Close, but wrong genre. Try "Tezuka". :) ]

She smiled. This one was brave to approach her. Most people were not that willing to approach anything that automatically made them nervous.

"I am Dehlehlah of the DLE delegation. Two degrees in physics, one degree in psychology, four degrees in alternate physics. I've been sent here simply because everyone from my group was sent here. Apparently, those at home worry about our sanity and believe what we are doing has had adverse affects on our minds. Enn, eh? I believe I've seen you around the halls. I normally don't venture around here, but I was following a temporal eddy at the time and this is where it led before I lost it," Dehlehlah said.

Prince Byron now increasingly drunk and melancholy regarding a successor and seeking more information as to the background of the latest guests and to slip into Stephanies company in a way as she might not know he was engaging her for a background check into her lineage, he slipped up to the group. Without invitation he joined in the conversation.
"The three Degrees were a good group, i really liked their music" he said awkwardly to the Ennish and DLE'nian representatives, showing just how poorly he was listening in to the conversation.
"Prince Esheram Byron, representative of the Realm of Hibernia to these great United Nations" he said extending his hand to the Puzzled looking Dehlehlah and to the now smirking Stephanie. "Might I interest you chaps in a drink?"

Hearing the possibility of a free drink in the air, BFFG smoothly inserted himself into the conversation- well, as smoothly as possible for a 300+ pound man. "Lovely weather we're having, idn't it?" he said brightly, the essential wrongness of Delhlehlah's presence being countered by the effects of severl alcoholic beverages consume within the past half hour.

"Certainly, Lord Byron. What would you recommend? I've given enough Ennish shandies around here, surely everyone knows what they're like by now, but I don't yet know what drinks you're in favour of."

Stephanie then turned to Dehlehlah.

"You were... sent here, you say? From DemonLordEnigma? I've worked with people from your nation in the past, but they were... different people. Anyway, I certainly hope you enjoy yourself here in the Bar. Alliances have been made and broken within these walls."

"...Dehlehlah of the DLE delegation. Two degrees in physics, one degree in psychology, four degrees in alternate physics..."
It was still ringing in Lord Brythain's mind like an iron bell. He knew what the true complement to that line was, just knew he knew... and then it hit him. Satisfaction uncoiled like a cobra. "... and six degrees of freedom," he said to himself.

"Neville!" he said, raising his mellifluous but commanding voice over the gungal din, "A Plutonium Doom this time, and none of those ersatz radionuclides, if you please."

It was time for prophylactic immunisation, a la the Borgias.

Prince Byron smiled graciously as a drunken man could at stefanies reply and was pleased that she chose to engage him rather than dismiss his presence. "may i suggest we open a bottle of Olde Templar Irish whiskey " and he summoned Voilet Bracket to take the order.
"Its a smooth whiskey easy on the palate but wow does it have a kick to it!" he said smiling before calling to neville to give one to all within the bar on Byrons tab.

*Adaine downed the drink in one go still recovering from all the cuteness*

BFFG likewise downed his drink quickly. Slamming it down on the bar, he let out a satisfied sigh. "Ah, that's the stuff," he said happily. Then, he remembered something, and reached into his coat, removing a stack of fliers. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot!" Handing around the fliers, he passed them out to the residents of the bar. "My alliance thread! Take a look!" Several of the patrons looked at the fliers interestedly, which read:

Interested in building an alliance?

Than look no further! Fatus Maximus wants YOU!

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=430193

Come quick! The first 50 allies get a free toaster!

BFFG grinned. "So, guys," he asked. "What do you think?"

Lord Brythain perused the latest stack of proposed NSUN legislation. His contained dark-matter gauntlet rose and fell intermittently as he lifted his drink to his lips in between sections.

Things were beginning to fit together. Nuclear arms and nuclear stations and nuclear... yes, nuclear families. They would glow in the dark and save much power generation. Family values would be upheld, while producing modern energies in sufficient quantity.

He felt considerably cheered. "Neville, thanks for the Plutonium Doom. Please change my drink to a Tequila Sunrise."

Jeremy takes the mike again and sings,

"When dreaming I'm guided through another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake
So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay?
Can you take me higher?




To the place where blind men see
Can you take me higher?
To the place with golden streets
Although I would like our world to change
It helps me to appreciate
Those nights and those dreams
But, my friend, I'd sacrifice all those nights
If I could make the Earth and my dreams the same
The only difference is
To let love replace all our hate
So let's go there
Let's make our escape
Come on, let's go there
Let's ask can we stay?
Up high I feel like I'm alive for the very first time
Up high I'm strong enough to take these dreams
And make them mine"

Evelyn Bennet reenters the bar, looking much more relaxed than usual. She has swapped her usual business attire for faded jeans, a silk camisole, and a denim jacket. Her brown hair is pulled into a loose ponytail. Ready to take a well-deserved break from UN matters, she walks to her favorite table near the karaoke machine. After a moment, she begins to notice something strange... cute fluffy animals seem to have taken over the bar. After a moment of speechlessness, she mutters to herself, "Wow... and I haven't even had a drink yet..."

After the initial shock brought on by the furry creatures has worn off, her attention is diverted to the person singing at the karaoke bar. A mischievous smile threatens to appear as she remembers the stirring rendition of "Like a Virgin" she once sang after one too many strawberry daquerees. Briefly, she considers giving an encore performance. However, she decides against it, mumbling "I'll need to have a couple more drinks before I ever try that again." After throwing another glance at the karaoke machine, she smirks, and asks Neville to make her a Pina Colada, stat.

Surprisingly, it took less time for the assembly of otaku from The Eternal Kawaii's UN delegation to arrive than expected. Whether it was curiosity at a reported Manifestation, or at seeing an actual drinking establishment with actual alcohol being served, they showed up within the hour. The rampage of cute little bushytailed animals was still going on over the bar when the priests, each in their ornate, varicolored robes, arrived. Murmurs and exclamations swept through the group as they spread out inside the bar.

The Happiness Police officer headslapped herself lightly, and grimaced. All these otaku to keep track of, and she stupidly forgot to ask for backup. Quickly she began punching buttons on her cellphone again.

*Delegates from the Dominion of BobEPeru (a nation populated entirely by a species whose most famous member is McDonalds spokesperson Grimace) have shambled into this fine establishment.*

Lord Brythain looked up. A frisson of horror passed quickly over him. He composed himself, his indigo-tinted features settling into half-daemonic XML.

"Grimace, my dear friend!" He allowed some doubt to display itself. "It is Grimace, is it not? Or are you one of his multiple clone-siblings?"

I'll have a Green Apple Snaps please.

No, my friend, Grimace (the name of the species, not the individual) is vilified in the Dominion of BobEPeru, and is seen as a sell-out to a corp that has ravaged our countryside, and a stooge to a sinister clown. If ever he returns to BobEPeru he will be sentenced to 30 mighty Grimace punches.

In the meantime I would like a shot of Bushmills, followed by a stiff Cuba Libre, and don't skimp on the lime.

morvonian delegates enter."what a beautiful bar,hallo gentilmen.i am brand now to this place." says the head un delegate Victor Sorino

Prince Byron sat at the Bar supping his glass of merriment and reading the New UN Times. He was drawn to the Article relating to the demise of the nation of Vastiva and shook his head. Whilst often on the opposing side to Vastiva in an arguement Byron had respect for the Vastivian Intellegence and wit. Byron stood and called to Neville " Fill the glasses of the members and let us drink to the Nation that was Vastiva. May the Gods have pity on their Antartican souls and bring them Quickly to their table in Valhalla"
Byron sat again and mused how this current news would effect the current Pretenema Panel which was now down to 13 members of a required 15.
He turned on his chair and watched the delegates and their parties as they chatted and Drank and laughed unaware that their Nations could be ceased at the whim of a few.
His royal Majesty King James had been wise in spreading his influence to many nations leaving a succession to the Realm, which Byrons home Nation had been selected as the first. He picked up his glass and strolled to the Party of Roathin, Cybertoria, BobEPeru and Morvonia.
"Greetings Delegates, I am Prince Esheram Byron, Lord of the Hibernian Principality of Templar Crusaders and UN Representative For the Region of the Realm of Hibernia, Appointed By King James The First of the Hibernian Kingdom of Venerable Libertarians. Well met my friends. May I join your Conversations?" He sat with the members and rested his mind to matters trivial.

Stephanie suddenyl reappeared in the middle of the Bar, next to Prince Byron.

"I really need to stop doing this discombobulation thing," she muttered to herself.

Looking around, she saw the heaadline on the paper, and then looked up to see the Caliph phase out of existence.

"Guess I'm not the only one with these problems."

A tall, red-haired woman walked into the room, clipping the door with her choulder on the way in, and knocking a glass from the tentacle of a large green cephalopod-being.
"Err, sorry Mr. Big Green thing, I'll just pick that up for you", she said, with a bit of a slur. It was aparent that she had already been drinking a tad. Well, more than a tad.
She didn't quite get the glass, so she gave up after a few tries, and managed to make her way over to the bar.
"Yeah, I'll just take anything you've got."
"Err, what sort of 'anything' would that be, ma'am?"
"Umm, whatever that guy is having," she said, pointing in the general direction of the man to her right. Turning to the man, she decided it was a nice time to start up a conversation.
"Hey, I just started working here an the UN. Nice building, eh? I thnik it's too small though, ya know. They told me where my office was, and I showed up and there was this big fuckin' feathered thing with lots of claws sitting at the desk, signing some documents. I figured I didn't want to disturb it, cause I didn't feel like losing an arm, so I just sat out in the hallway. Oh hey, did I introduce myself yet?"
The man next to her looked a tad confused. Having a drunk woman show up in casual attire, not anything like what a proper representative would be wearing, and start ranting at him in stream-of-consciousness, wasn't what he had expected to be doing during lunch break.
"Err, no, you haven't introduced yourself."
"Oh. Samantha Ballard, atcher service! Yeah, anyway, even though I wasn't in my office, they still managed to get papers to me. This little short thing, what would you call it... Oh yeah, a gnome! This little gnome showed up for me with a big fuckin' stack of papers. He looked rather angry, told me it took an hour to find me. Signin' papers is so boring... And they cut off my entertainment console's access after only five minutes of stealin' their bandwidth. So I figured, why not drink?"
"So you came here?"
"Hell no, I had some with me. Buzz is wearing off now though, so I figured I I needed some more..."
The bartender handed Samantha her drink. She downed it in one gulp.
"That was pretty fuckin' weird. I'm not sure I like it much.
Get me another!"

Evelyn Bennet extends her greetings to all of the entering delegates in turn. She smiles, then returns to her drink, only to find that it is empty. With a shrug, she turns and asks Neville she make her a fresh Pina Coloda, thinking, "One more drink, and then hit the karaoke machine." She brings the drink to her lips, savoring the fun tropical taste, then returns to quietly observing the other delegates.

With a grimace (no, not a Grimace - this is family entertainment hour) on his lips, Lord Brythain turned away from the odd delegation and back to his drink - only to find that it had been appropriated by a young lady who was in the process of calling it 'weird'.

"Neville, a pint of the good black stuff of life, please," he sighed. He sat back, waiting for Llewellyn the Humble to report on 'Urban Redevelopment in the Grand Duchy of Roathin as a Consequence of the Pending Resolution on Post-War Civilian Rights'.

The bartender approached Samantha.
"Your drink, ma'am."
Samantha looked down at the empty glass she was holding. She then suddenly had a flash of insight into why the other representative next to her had been glowering at her.
"Oh, uh, was that yours? Err, i'm sorry about that, or something. I think."
At that moment, someone wandered into the bar calling "Samantha, I know you are in here!" The voice got closer and closer. A tall figure in a starkly formal suit walked into the bar, looking a bit exasperated, and spotted her.
"Miss! You are supposed to be working, not drinking!"
"Yeah, but signing papers is so boring..."
"'Yeah, but' nothing! We need to get you sobered up, and you need to start reading through the proposal list!"
Unfortunately for the person currently trying to get Samantha out of the bar, her attention span had just hit its limit. Samantha's eyes unfocused for a bit as she fazed out, and then she sighed the sort of sigh one would sigh when one has just realized how pointless everything really is, on the cosmic scale.
"You know, does any of this really matter? Is there really some reason behind all this, or is life all, like, umm, pointless?"
"This is no time for drunken philosophy!" Samantha was promptly grabbed by the wrists, and hauled off the barstool. "Put your arm around me, miss, and you won't fall."
"Yeah, whatever. Oh! Just a second!" Samantha paused at the threshold and turned back to the representative whose drink she had unwittingly knocked back. "Hey Mr. Guy whose drink I stole, I'll make it up to you sometime!"

Victor simply waved to her and said "no problem there is still more drink to go around". with that he turned to see the bartender handing him his vodka/rum
mix.


"Thank you" victor said.

and he turned back to Roathin, Cybertoria, BobEPeru and Prince Esheram Byron.

by now the bar was hazy with smoke from a hundred cigars,cigarettes and pipes. the smell of alcohal invaded the nostrils.and the dry humor and laughter that only those goverment-types had,filled the room.

he then picked up a news paper and read about the troubles of the world,he hated to read this because it was their to help solve them,and the talk of work was almost non-existant. and dropd the news and took a long hard drink and listened to the fellow delegates.

BFFG sat by himself, wondering why no one had taken any cards from him. Sighing, he stood up, and shouted at the rest of the bar. "Alright, listen up! Anyone who wants me to by a round of drinks for the bar should take one of these cards!", he announced, holding up one of the cards.

Interested in building an alliance?

Than look no further! Fatus Maximus wants YOU!

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=430193

Come quick! The first 50 allies get a free toaster!

"Only 47 toasters left!" he added as an afterthought.

"do the toasters talk?" *said Adaine intrigued by the talk of free toasters. he was in a better mood now 'the cuteness' had gone and was relaxing after hearing that his nation had two more wars it was interested in*

The moment Hodgelett woke up she knew it was going to be one of those days. Not the least because she'd been woken up by a message from her superior ordering her back home after a change in the political climate in the strange state known as "Hutori" which seemed to remain unknown in the current world.
So a long turbulant flight later, and the joys of Immigration she'd decided a nice drink was called for.
On the street she'd nearly collided with a drunken young woman being bundled out the door of what she'd started thinking of as home.
'Bouncers? Surely not...' With trepidation, she pushed open the door and bundled herself in with her carry-all.
With relief she saw the usual goings on, drinking delegates, Cybertoria singing still...and then her heart missed a beat. A crowd of blue robed men were dancing in front of a crowd of animals sitting in a circle on...grass. The fact she recognised a certain goat as being the same as one that had lived in the yard at the back did not make a difference. Something was really wrong.
Suddenly realising you've been pushed over and are falling does not help many situations, and this was not one of them. Lying sprawled on the floor with little sailor-pumped feet trooped past your eyes might be normal when you're drunk, but while perfectly sober it was having a strange effect on the Randomean delegate who was wondering when exactly she'd been shut up in the lunatic asylum.

Jeremy of Cybertoria aske "any of you guys wana join me in a game of Texas Hold Em?"

Stephanie had just decided to call it a day, when she glanced out the wondow and noticed someone familiar.

"Lydia's back!" she whispered excitedly to Neville. "I hope she comes in here, nowhere better than the Strangers' Bar for catching up on good times. I mean yes, I will see her in official duties, but even so. Now we just need Desdemona to run up, and the Rep. of Komokom, and at least some of the old crew will be reunited."

Neville had been tenderly helping Hodgelett up from the floor -- yes, he knew his passion was hopeless, but still, a good Barlord doesn't leave insanely attractive, extremely intelligent, superbly competent delegates sprawled all over the place where just anyone might trip over them -- when he caught Stephanie's whisper.

"Woo-hoo!" he cried, or words to that effect, though definitely not, "YEE-hah!" Dusting off a bar-stool for Hodgelett, he leapt the counter and reverently lifted down an inscribed silver tankard. Breathing gently on it, he polished it with his velvet sleeve.

Pausing only to see that the coloured lights that rimmed the bar-room mirror were set to flash in sequence, he set the now gleaming (if unhygienic) vessel down on a hand-embroidered d'oyley of purest imported Moygashel linen and waited to see what would eventuate.

Still a little bemused at the situation, Hodgelett watched Neville's actions from the relative safety of the stool. Relative because any delegate knows, in fact any person who drinks knows, falling off one of them is not very safe at all. The lights reflected off the shiny surface gave an Aladdin's cave-like feel to the what could be described as a friendly-forest like atmosphere that the Bar was currently having. Hodgelett dreaded to think what would come out of the karoke machine if Cybertoria's delegate or anyone else for that matter tried to use it.
She realised she'd been sitting there in a dreamlike state for quite a while now. "Expecting someone?" she uttered brightly. The atmosphere was hardly conjusive to more intelligent pearls.

Having enjoyed her time back home Lydia could not help but feel a little homesick arriving at her apartment, round the corner from the UN building. Still she knew exactly where to go make her feel right back at home, the Strangers Bar! Walking in she was glad to note the old place had hardly changed while she had been away, the only exception being a few faces she did not immediately recognise. It didn’t take her long to recognise a familiar face by the bar and strolled over to her Ennish colleague.

“Hi Stephanie, how are you? It’s been a while” said Lydia with genuine affection and broad smile. “Fancy a drink and a gossip?”

The additional contingent of Happiness Police, looking like a cheerleaders' squad as designed by a Japanese businessmen on a three-day bender, filed into the bar to meet up with their beleagered comrade and her charges. An astute eye would notice, slipping in behind the teenaged girls in neon-colored pleated skirts, a few dark-clad young men who quickly went about making themselves invisible among the furniture. Clearly the security detachment of the Eternal Kawaii's UN nunciate was taking no chances.

Meanwhile, the assembled circle of otaku, still humming and chanting around the strange and peculiarly cute phenomenon at the bar, starting muttering and erupting in hushed conversation. Comments such as "unheard of!" and "but look!" and even "blasphemy!" drifted out of the circle as the otaku's communion slid into what appeared to be a long and heated theological debate.

Finally the Eternal Kawaii's UN nucio, who appeared to be the senior otaku present, stood and said, "I ask again--do we not have a quorum? And are not sufficient laiety present for the Righteous Oversight?" He smiled at the Happiness Police officers that were gathering around the circle, and gave a grateful nod to their leader.

"Yes, but in an ecchi place like this? It's unheared of--nay, blasphemous!" said one of the otaku, a green-clad priest of considerable years with bushy eyebrows and a stern expression.

"Do you doubt that this is a Manifestation?" the blue-clad nuncio retorted. "Have we the right to turn our backs on the Cute One just because It has graced a foreign setting?"

"It is still improper...." the green-clad otaku replied. His objections seemed to carry little weight among the others, though; clearly the argument (whatever it was) was going against him.

"That is for the Ritual to decide," the nuncio said, calmly but firmly. "Do we agree on that, at least?" The other otaku murmured and nodded their assent, including finally the green-clad hold out.

Turning to Neville, the nuncio said politely, "My good sir. I hope we won't intrude much on your hospitality here, but these events call for wisdom. We wish your indulgence for my colleagues and I to perform the Drunken Master ritual here."

Having left the Bar some days ago Byron had embarked on an epic Quest, to find his UN office which he had not frequented now for some months. After many hours walking the UN building popping his head into various rooms with the words " No! This aint it" following quickly after, and realising just how vast and complex the UN was with its races and creeds finally he came upon a room that looked familiar. He opened the door which was a struggle as a large pile of telegrams had formed a large paper staligmite behind it. He sat dilligently for several hours going through each one popping off replies as quickly as he could and shredding as he went. After some time the office resembled how it looked when he had last been there, devoid of clutter and now freshened as the window had been opened to aire the room.
It was at this point he decided to begin the return trip of the quest and after several hours of walking corridors get smart style he arrived at the UN buildings egress and hailed a cab back to the Strangers Bar. Approaching the bar and placing his weary body onto a stool beside Hodgelett he ordered a pint of Guinness with a whiskey chaser and was enthused that he need not return to his office for at least a couple of weeks. He looked at the now familiar faces surrounding him and settled in for what would be another epic quest. The quest to return to Blotto and converse in the strange language of the drunken delegate, which only other drunken delegates could understand.

Turning to Neville, the nuncio said politely, "My good sir. I hope we won't intrude much on your hospitality here, but these events call for wisdom. We wish your indulgence for my colleagues and I to perform the Drunken Master ritual here."

"No probs, mate," Neville replied cheerily. "We're all Drunken Masters here."

His welcoming grin wavered briefly as Hodgelett, Stephanie and the returned Lydia skewered him with their eyes.

"Oh. And Mistresses, of course," he added, contritely pouring a free Ennish Shandy into Lydia's silver tankard and the vessels that the other two had honoured by their touch.

Having enjoyed her time back home Lydia could not help but feel a little homesick arriving at her apartment, round the corner from the UN building. Still she knew exactly where to go make her feel right back at home, the Strangers Bar! Walking in she was glad to note the old place had hardly changed while she had been away, the only exception being a few faces she did not immediately recognise. It didn’t take her long to recognise a familiar face by the bar and strolled over to her Ennish colleague.

“Hi Stephanie, how are you? It’s been a while” said Lydia with genuine affection and broad smile. “Fancy a drink and a gossip?”
"Oh, let me, Lydia," Stephanie said. Then noticing Neville pouring the Telidian a drink, "well, it looks like Neville moves quicker than us mere delegates. Neville, put that one on my tab."

She had a quick glance around, to see who was new since Lydia had last been in the bar. "Let's see, this is the Otaku from The Eternal Kawaii, that one over there is Prince Byron of Venerable Libertarians, Hodgelett's our fellow female in the Bar, and the Big Friendly Fat Guy and Adaine are the pair having a conversation about toasters. Welcome back!"

Grand Duke Brythain of Roathin had been reading two voluminous documents (1,2). Hours had passed in his corner. The shadows he had woven to deflect attention had grown darker in their attempt to screen him from waves of bright cuteness.

He stretched and rose to his feet, 75 inches of lean and slightly hungry-looking half-daemonic elegance. "Neville," he said, "So long, and thanks for all the Guinness."

Then he noticed the triumvirate of beautiful and noble ladies at bar. His diabolical indigo eyebrows froze momentarily in surprise. "Greetings, most esteemed colleagues. Might we of Roathin purchase liquid sustenance for you?"

=====

(1) Llewellyn the Humble (2005). Report on 'Urban Redevelopment in the Grand Duchy of Roathin as a Consequence of the Pending Resolution on Post-War Civilian Rights'. Temple of Vlawn, Adaranathin.
(2) Frederik, Lord Marshal of the East (2005). Report on 'The United Nations Security Act and its Implications for Military Automata and Elemental Warfare'. College of Arms, Iashadarin.

"Oh, let me, Lydia," Stephanie said. Then noticing Neville pouring the Telidian a drink, "well, it looks like Neville moves quicker than us mere delegates. Neville, put that one on my tab."

She had a quick glance around, to see who was new since Lydia had last been in the bar. "Let's see, this is the Otaku from The Eternal Kawaii, that one over there is Prince Byron of Venerable Libertarians, Hodgelett's our fellow female in the Bar, and the Big Friendly Fat Guy and Adaine are the pair having a conversation about toasters. Welcome back!"

"Actually," Byron interjected, "Its Prince Byron of the Hibernian Principality of Templar Crusaders and not Venerable Libertarians! I know," he added noticing the confused look on the Ennians Face. "You see the Nation of the Venerable Libertarians is headed up by His Royal Majesty King James and his Nation holds the UN delegacy for the Region. As he is the Benevolent overlord to the Region our nations come from he has appointed me as representative to these United Nations."
Byron smiled to the company adding " I could be Replaced tomorrow at his Pleasure!"

Mathieu Vergniaud slunk into the Bar for a quiet drink, carefully avoiding the various manifestations of suffocating cuteness and signalling to Neville from a quiet end of the bar. Proposal submitted, he thought. He slugged back a glass of tawny port, grimacing at the searing sweetness, and considered the stress the Wateranan [ooc: sp?!] and especially Reformentian delegates had been put through. He stared gloomily at the empty glass.

"Neville," he called in a deadpan voice, "Do you serve this by the bottle?"

“Good to be back and…” said Lydia smilingly, but before she could complete her sentence she noticed the delights of Mathieu Vergniaud enter the room. Trying her best no to show her reaction to Mathieu’s appearance Lydia quickly answered the Roathin gentlemen. “Erm, thank you Sir why not, an Ennish shandy for me please, Stephanie anything else?” She only hoped her friend did not notice her reaction, though she knew it was probably unlikely.

Mathieu supped at the port, wondering how long he'd have before Yefremova would haul his ass out of the Bar and back to work. Maybe I should sack it all in and return home, doesn't seem worth all the stress and oh my is that Lydia? Play it cool, Vergno, play it cool. He nonchalantly leaned back in his seat and smiled in her direction. Sadly, he was sat on a backless stool and toppled gracelessly to the floor, head thudding on the sticky alcohol-slicked surface of the Bar floor.

Ouch.

As luck would have it, Varia Yefremova had come to the Bar, searching for her erstwhile Deputy. She noted Mathieu sprawled on the floor and the concerned face of the Telidian delegate and inwardly sighed. Normal service has been resumed.

"Smooth, Mat. Lydia, how are you?"

::matthew makes his way into the bar with two body guards at eachside he stops at the door to take a look about then heads on to the bar and sits down::

"Good, good," exclaimed the Eternal Kawaii's UN nuncio to Neville, smiling somewhat at the barkeep's joke. Any other otaku might've been offended by the borderline blasphemous comment, but the nuncio had by now learned to take much in stride. Protect us from the ecchi, O Cute One, he silently meditated, and added audibly, "Well, then, let us start. We will need a barrel of sake, fine and unopened, along with some plain and unmarked china cups for my colleagues and I. I expect you have something in the backroom that should suffice?"

"Welcome, welcome!" Neville enthused. "New delegate, eh? Well, just tell me your poison and I'll make sure we keep a stock handy. I'm Neville, by the way."

Giving the newcomer a few seconds to work out what he'd like to drink, he leaned forward confidentially, "Maybe your bodyguards would like to wander over to the lounge and play the pokies? You'll find they tend to inhibit any real interaction with other delegates. And you're quite safe here. We've got enough psi species to warn of any assassination attempt, and I've taken a few little -- precautions -- myself."

When the stuff works, anyway he added silently. Acme Industries weren't the most reliable of suppliers, though they were far and away the most imaginative.

"So," he continued, polishing an already-polished stretch of the bar, "care to tell us a bit about yourself? Oh, that's Prince Byron standing there gawping, and the Grand Duke Brythain of Roathin chatting up Lydia of Telidia, Stephanie of Enn and (sigh) Hodgelett of Randomea ... the one who's being collected from the floor is Mathieu of Ecopoeia, and that's his boss Varia doing the collecting ... hang on, I'll just send the robo-scrub over there ... and that's a bunch of otaku doing something otakus do ..."

A blur of homespun robe, a flash of tartan boxer-shorts and a twinkling of hairy legs interrupted him.

"Oh, yes, and that's Brother Timothy of Findhorn rescuing his goat from the
Drunken Masters," Neville added. "Nice to see you back, Tim. Come and meet the new guy."

" ... I expect you have something in the backroom that should suffice?"

Emerging at that moment from the backroom, Violet Bracket cast a scolding glance at Neville (gossiping at the bar again, even if he did call it customer relations) and smiled helpfully at the nuncio.

"Of course, Cutie," she said respectfully, scurrying to fulfill the holy one's request.

Stephanie heard Lydia's voice falter, and soon afterwards heard a thump. Turning around, she saw Mathieu sprawled on the ground.
Hmm, she thought, perhaps... probably nothing, but still...

**cell rings** ::pawnsers the phone: have you found the weapons of mass umm i mean then you get em call me back

The Ambassador from Allemande strode in, looking neither right nor left, but went straight to the bar.

"We never see you here," said the bartender. "What'll it be? A glass of Allemander red, or a dark beer?"

"Neither," she said. "I'll take a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster - a double."

He looked shocked. Slowly, he remembered his job. "With or without the radioactive salts?"

"What the Hell - with" she said curtly.

Some of the other patrons gawked. She didn't seem to notice. The bartender placed the drink in front of her.

She slammed it.

"I'll take another. And you can give me that dark beer as a chaser."

The bartender didn't move. Then, slowly, he spoke.

"Are you ... sure?"

"Damned straight I'm sure! Do you think I wanted to be here researching ever Resolution this body has ever passed instead of back in Allemande listening to rock and roll and watching the National Grand Prix?!?" she snapped.

"OK, OK, OK," he said, raising his hands in a gesture of submission. He poured the drink, set it in front of her, cracked open the dark, and set that next to the drink.

She pounded both, ran her hand through her hair, leaving it slightly dishevelled, inhaled sharply, shook her head once like a cat trying to clear water out of her ears, and then said, "I'm out of here."

Walking an absolutely perfect line out of the bar, she made for the cab stand and home.

*takes a seat at the bar lays his head down on the bar :it's hard running a evil empire

Byron stood, then sat, then stood, then sat again.
"Yep! Still working! Perhaps something with a kick this time Neville. What do you suggest?"

The Eternal Kawaii's UN nuncio nodded in satisfaction, recalling the consternation of one of his subordinates when he had asked for an overview of the Stranger's Bar liquor inventory a few months back. The seemingly pointless and vaguely ecchi request had turned out to be useful after all. As he waited on Violet, the green-glad otaku took the pause to renew his objections, saying, "Foreign sake, even? I know you're telling us repeatedly to engage with these people, but really, sempai, this is unreasonable. You go too far."

"Too far?" the nuncio replied, spotting Violet returning with a large paper-wrapped wooden keg. "How far is too far from the Cute One?" Together the two otaku lifted the barrel from Violet's dolly and manhandled it to a spot near the end of the bar, where the other otaku were busy moving tables and clearing a space for it.

"Still..." the green-clad otaku half-mumbled, "will this stuff be pleasing to the Cute One? Foreign sake..."

"I know, my friend," the nuncio said, nodding as they set up the barrel in position. "Which is why you, I think, will be best to perfom the purification." Standing up, he reached inside his robes and pulled out a shide wand, its paper streamers rustling pleasently as he handed it to his partner.

The green-clad otaku bowed and smiled as he took the ritual implement, saying, "With pleasure, sempai." He then turned and began chanting fiercely, waving the paper-streamered wand in precise motions over the sake barrel, sweeping away the evil spirits that had infested it during its lifetime among foreign lands.

*Adaine having explained to The Fat Gay that the Mage Thrael never leaves his room much less his kingdom, and that going without sercurity guards to another nation was impossible, went over and sat next to the new guy having overheard Violet miss him out.*

" ... Perhaps something with a kick this time Neville. What do you suggest?"

"The double Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster with the radioactive salts seems to work for the Allemandes," Neville suggested. "I could mix it with some of that stuff Sir Albert drinks -- I know you're not Bahgumian, but I should think your Celtic genes would give you immunity."

"Heat up some scrumpy and put that in," Brother Tim urged. "When you heat it up it gets this white furry stuff on top. That's why we call it Lamb's Wool."

The little Findhornian chatted desultorily with the newcomer while Neville concocted the concoction. They were "Tim" and "Matthew" to each other by the time Neville announced proudly, "There!"

It had the white furry stuff on top, as promised. The rest of it ... well, it didn't sparkle. It roiled and heaved uneasily. There was the occasional flash of dull red fire. As they watched, a single huge bubble rose sluggishly to the top and burst, releasing a whiff of ... rose-scented fish? Patchouli petrol?

"Before I give you this, Byron, would you mind signing here and here -- oh, and there, too, at the end of the line that begins 'I indemnify ...' . Thanks. Oh, and another thing. I'm legally obliged to ask you: Do you have health insurance?"

The formalities completed, Neville pushed the glass carefully across the counter.

"Do you think there's something alive in there?" whispered Brother Tim.

*Ambassador from Scamptica Prime walks in and orders one Allemande Red and goes off to play pool before leaving for his next meeting in 45mins*

Lord Brythain of Roathin turned away from his 'chatting up' long enough to cast a reproachful glance at the delegate of Ardchoille. Having paid for a round of drinks (many of which were calls for the 'good black stuff of Eire'), he returned to his cloaked corner.

The returns from Nenia, Saladaar, Vancing and Iamhagask were in. Quietly, the Empire had moved to Defcon Two.

Lord Brythain of Roathin turned away from his 'chatting up' long enough to cast a reproachful glance at the delegate of Ardchoille. Having paid for a round of drinks (many of which were calls for the 'good black stuff of Eire'), he returned to his cloaked corner.

The returns from Nenia, Saladaar, Vancing and Iamhagask were in. Quietly, the Empire had moved to Defcon Two."Uh... you're the Ambassador from Roathin, right?" said a wisp of a girl in a bright blue flower-printed batik.

"Yes," replied Lord Brythain, "And you are...?"

"Holly Starseed Peace-Love, Provisional Ambassador from the People's Democratic Republic of Community Property to the United Nations," she said excitedly, pointing to her temporary badge. "We're hoping to be approved as members sometime today. Isn't it exciting?!?"

"Can I sit here with you for a minute?" she continued, taking a seat and setting down here drink. "Wheatgrass," she said, gesturing at it.

He said nothing as the girl babbled on.

"I gave my first speech today (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9299155&postcount=244). Did you hear it? It was so ... so cool."

He still said nothing.

"Hey, I hear you, like, really practice magic in Roathin. Is that true?" she asked him.

"Thaumaturgy," he said.

"Oh, man, that is way cool. I'm a Reiki Master - I know it's not the same, of course. Anyway, gotto go. It's been wonderful talking to you."

And with that, she hustled off in a whirl.

Stephanie suddenly heard her mobile ringing, and excused herself from the conversation.

"Hello? Yes, this is she... what? The Black New Worldians out of contact? ... Are you serious? ... Oh non-existent deity, not again... alright, I'll talk to you later."

Turning back to the bar, she announced,

"Well, it seems they've chosen me to act as regional delegate for the time being. I guess it could be seen as a cause for celebration, so what the hey. Ennish shandies for everyone!"

"Uh... you're the Ambassador from Roathin, right?" said a wisp of a girl in a bright blue flower-printed batik.
Yes, we are, he thought to himself. In a manner of speaking. And also the lord and master of all Roathin. He felt distinctly amused, but unnerved. It was an odd sensation.
"Yes," replied Lord Brythain, "And you are...?"

"Holly Starseed Peace-Love, Provisional Ambassador from the People's Democratic Republic of Community Property to the United Nations," she said excitedly, pointing to her temporary badge. "We're hoping to be approved as members sometime today. Isn't it exciting?!?"

"Can I sit here with you for a minute?" she continued, taking a seat and setting down here drink. "Wheatgrass," she said, gesturing at it.

He said nothing as the girl babbled on.
If those gestures had been made by an adept of the College of Shadows, the Bar would have had a Shadowgate intrusion right there and then. Under the table, he made two handrunes of warding. Just in case. He knew better than to underestimate the young (or apparently young) or the female (or apparently female). The Archmage Kipling himself had said that the female of the species was deadlier than the male, and Brythain of Roathin firmly believed it.
"I gave my first speech today (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9299155&postcount=244). Did you hear it? It was so ... so cool."

He still said nothing.
He approved. Enthusiasm in making first speeches (or indeed any other speeches) was a trait he allowed in others, especially if they seemed genuinely so.
"Hey, I hear you, like, really practice magic in Roathin. Is that true?" she asked him.

"Thaumaturgy," he said.
Theurgy, thaumaturgy, lichcraft, manteia, and alchemie, actually. His fingers danced impatiently over the report from the Lord(s) of Vancing (1).
"Oh, man, that is way cool. I'm a Reiki Master - I know it's not the same, of course. Anyway, gotto go. It's been wonderful talking to you."

And with that, she hustled off in a whirl.
"And to you," he replied, ever the gentleman, to the light scent of her passing.

=====
1. Vancing, Grand Hierarch and Ducal Modality of (2005). Multiple modality synergies and the consequences of the bioweapons ban. Unicorn Variation Press, Carcassonne.

*Adaine smiled as he watched the Roathin Ambassador converse with a niave young woman. Avarhierrim though in a different region, highly respected Roathin.*

A young brown-clad acolyte walked quickly into the bar, bowed to the Eternal Kawaii's UN nuncio, and handed him a small rolled paper. "I was told you wanted to see this right away, sensei." the young man said. The nuncio accepted the paper, glancing at the seal on it, and nodded. "Thanks, I was," he said, smiling. With a bow and a wave he dismissed the acolyte and sent him on his way--there was much still to be done as the preparations for the Drunken Master ritual were nearing completion.

As the other otaku assembled around the sake barrel, each with his ceremonial cup and with a Happiness Police Officer standing behind him, forming a sort of outer protective ring around the ritual space, the nuncio unrolled the paper and read its contents. Unnecessary, really, since he already knew what the missive would say.

"Great good news, my friends," he announced to the people at the bar near the assembled otaku. "The latest UN census figures came in--our nation just topped 500 million. A fortuitous sign, indeed! The nuncio smiled and added, "A round for the house, courtesy of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii, Neville my good man. Nonalcoholic, of course."

Meanwhile, the green-clad otaku performing the purification ritual over the sake barrel seemed to be having difficulty wresting the evil spirits away from it...or so it would seem, from the grunting and angry chanting as he circled around the barrel, nearly pummelling it with the shide wand. It didn't help matters either when, the nuncio's attention distracted by his announcement to the bar, he left opening in the circle of otaku. Just in time for the hustling Holly Starseed Peace-Love to walk right into it, nearly colliding with the prancing purifier.

Meanwhile, the green-clad otaku performing the purification ritual over the sake barrel seemed to be having difficulty wresting the evil spirits away from it...or so it would seem, from the grunting and angry chanting as he circled around the barrel, nearly pummelling it with the shide wand. It didn't help matters either when, the nuncio's attention distracted by his announcement to the bar, he left opening in the circle of otaku. Just in time for the hustling Holly Starseed Peace-Love to walk right into it, nearly colliding with the prancing purifier.The minute Holly stepped into the gap in the circle, she knew she had entered ritual space.

Uh ... OK ... I can't just step out of it, she thought, that would be, like ... bad ... so...

She just half closed her eyes and, like, went with the flow, copying the movements of the otaku.

Hey, this is kind of like some of the dances in the Drum Circle back home! she thought. Way cool!

By then, the nuncio had looked up from his announcement and noticed in horror what had happened. Before he could recover, she reached around his waist, and, light as a feather, spun him around in a graceful little dance move back into his place in the circle of otaku.

Then with a kiss of his hand, she pirouetted away, lightly placing her empty glass on the bar as she flittered toward the door. :fluffle:

Having been informed finally about what was really going on in the bar, something that mercifully wasn't a delusion on her part, Hodgelett had been taking a keen interest in what had been going on. Unsurprisingly she winced at the obviously new delegate's unlucky gaffe. Still, it may not seem so, but her own UN career actually couldn't be that long. And something needed to be done about the decidedly 'uncute' anger that could potentially be aroused in the...priest? who was cleansing the sake barrel. She sighed. She couldn't think of anything except the picture of her politic-daughter that was cute.
Still, it was better than nothing as she brought it out and laid it on the bar.
http://www.christianlavache.com/images/children/baby-girl-copy_202.jpg

The green-clad otaku paused from his purification ritual, looking oddly at the dancing delegate in shock, and nearly dropped his shide wand when she spun around the nuncio and kissed his hand. The nuncio's face turned as red as the robes he wore when he received his first degree, many years ago. He sort of stared at the back of his hand where the foreign woman had kissed him, and tried to speak, to say anything, but words failed him. A murmur of chuckles arose from the other otaku, while the Happiness Police officers surrounding them simply glared at the departing delegate.

Their leader grimaced...her attempt to avoid just this sort of thing had come up a bit short. Still, better the Nuncio than some junior, unmarried otaku, she thought, suppressing a chuckle.

The green-clad otaku simply shook his head. Saying "I told you so" would be superfluous at this point, and besides, the demons infesting the sake barrel didn't seem intent on leaving without a fight. "It would seem they have home-field advantage," he muttered. Looking gratefully upon the offeratory picture Hodgelett had placed upon the bar, near the site of the Manifestation, he smiled and added, "Still, the Cute One shall prevail," and started over the purification ritual, this time with greater zest.

She couldn't think of anything except the picture of her politic-daughter that was cute. Still, it was better than nothing as she brought it out and laid it on the bar.

"Aaaawww!" cooed Neville. "Isn't she cute! Just look at those eyes! And the dress -- that lace-on-lace is a brilliant technique, isn't it? And I just love the flounce!"

He looked more closely. "Did you make the shawl yourself? I've only ever seen that stitch once before, back on Old Earth, in a museum in Massachusetts. Such even tension! It looks like a variant on the seven-treble shell, but ... possibly single crochet -- into the back only -- every fifth row? No, perhaps not ..."

Hodgelett, he noticed, was looking at him rather oddly.

Brother Timothy pentacled himself hastily. "Goddess-we-your-children-entreat," he babbled. Then, apparently finding courage, he stood a little taller and announced firmly, "No, we don't. This isn't Herself's bailiwick at all. Colleagues of Kawaii, I believe the ball is in your court."

As puzzled faces turned towards him, he tried to make himself clearer. "I mean, there's been a channelling, or a possession, or something. Whatever it is, it's definitely one of yours, brethren. And it's got Neville."

Stephanie’s announcement of being elected Delegate and the appearance of Varia helped to snap Lydia back to her senses. “Well done Stephanie, though I hope we hear from The Black New World soon.”

“Varia, so good to see you! How are you, you been well? Fancy an Ennish shandy I’ve got a little bit of a collection thanks to Stephanie and the kind Roathin gentlemen. Oh, erm is Mathieu all right by the way?”

BFFG burst through the door dramatically, sweeping across the bar and occupying one of the bar stools so quickly several of the bars patrons suspected him of using one of Brythain's teleportation spells. "Beer," he told Neville, "with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles on top if you can manage it." He turned casually to the bargoers around him. He had been gone for nearly a month, tending to diplomatic business in other countries. There were several new faces here, and he noticed some of the people he had known before his absence were missing from the picture. Shrugging, he turned back to face the bar as the bartender slid his drink in front of him. He drank from it immediately, accumulating an impressive whipped cream mustache as he did so.

What the BFFG hadn't noticed was that Neville had aranged the chocolate sprinkles in what was, Hodgelett supposed, a 'cute' pattern.
'If this is a permanent change to the Bar, we're going to have to get,' she paused, not daring to think it, 'the Inspectors in!'
Instead of thinking more on this she looked at Brother Tim who seemed to have some idea of what was going on, but he was looking expectantly to the most flexible of the Kawaiian priests.

The Kawaiian UN nuncio watched as Neville began handing out the nonalcoholic drink specialties he had requested for the other patrons, noting with satisfaction the garish yet pleasing shades of soft drink and assorted mini-parasols and other garnishes. As Brother Timothy commented on the barkeep's sudden and drastic change of mood, he smiled and said, "I don't think this is a problem. It's not possession, I would say off-hand...he's merely becoming more in tune with the Manifestation."

Meanwhile, the green-clad otaku let out a loud whoop and struck the sake barrel with his shide wand, exclaiming. "It is Done! And in the name of the Cute One, I abjure thee! Return no more, ecchi!" Wiping his brow, he turned to the nuncio and said, "Finished at last, sempai. We can proceed with the ritual now--it's safe to drink."

Jeremy takes the mike and sings.........

"I took her out it was Friday nightI wore cologne to get the feeling rightWe started making out and she took off my pantsBut then I turned on the TVAnd that's about the time that she walked away from meNobody likes you when you're 23And are still more amused by TV showsWhat the hell is ADD?My friends say I should act my ageWhat's my age again?What's my age again?Then later on, on the drive homeI called her mom from a pay phoneI said I was the copsAnd your husband's in jailThis state looks down on sodomyAnd that's about the time that bitch hung up on meNobody likes you when your 23And are still more amused by prank phone callsWhat the hell is caller ID?My friends say I should act my ageWhat's my age again?What's my age again?And that's about the time she walked away from meNobody likes you when your 23And you still act like you're in Freshman yearWhat the hell is wrong with me?My friends say I should act my ageWhat's my age again?What's my age again?That's about the time she broke up with meNo one should take themselves so seriouslyWith many years ahead to fall in lineWhy would you wish that on me?I never want to act my ageWhat's my age again?What's my age again?"

It's not possession, I would say off-hand...he's merely becoming more in tune with the Manifestation."

Neville, who by now was desperately fighting an almost overwhelming urge to start knitting teacosies shaped like thatched cottages, didn't feel all that much in tune with anything, not even Jeremy's solo.

Though his professionalism allowed him to continue handing out drinks, beads of sweat bedewed his brow. Vainly he tried to think of something un-cute, but everything -- Hell's Angels, Rottweilers and {insert name of appropriate world leader here} -- turned sweet and appealing before his anguished eyes.

In a last-ditch effort, he turned to his beloved customers.

"Friends, I beg of you -- ex-cute me now!" he cried.

A place where the educated and cultured, can relax in peace.
How about a game of pool anyone or mabye even a few hands of poker over fine cigars and a few barrels of ale?

Big Friendly Fat Guy grinned. "Hey, kid, you remind me of when I was young and stupid," he said to the delegate from County Islands. "Lemme buy you a drink." He turned to the bar. "Oy! Anyone up for a game of poker?" He noticed Neville's discomfort across the bar. "Excuse me for a moment," he told County Islands as yet unnamed ambassador, and hopped off his bar stool and marched across the bar. Grabbing Neville by the collar, he dragged him into the corner, pulled out a lighter, and set the bartender's pants on fire. He turned and marched back to his seat, satisfied that the bar would no longer have to put up with any more cuteness, at least while Neville ran around screaming for a bucket of water.

Neville you don't need to be exicuted, you just need to take a breather.

"Thanks, Big, I needed that," sighed Neville, from his uneasy perch on the fire-bucket.

Rising, he edged crab-like along the wall until he reached the sanctuary of the storeroom. Once there it would be the work of a minute to don a spare pair of knee-breeches -- he was going for the 18th Century look this month -- and emerge once again the picture of sartorial splendour.

But ... but ... dignity could all too easily turn to cuteness. What was needed was low comedy, pratfalls and obvious jokes.

Snatching one of Violet Bracket's frilly aprons, he tied it on backwards to cover the singed bit. The bow sat perkily on his belly and his red-and-yellow coin-spotted boxers flared on either side, rather conventional, but, fortunately, satisfactorily large and baggy.

He left his socks on, happy to see one big toe sticking out of a hole. A dear friend had once confided that she found few things on the earth as funny as a skinny-legged man in daggy socks.

Pity the customers were generally so neat and well-behaved. His chances of finding a banana-skin to slip on were not good.

Nonetheless, confident that there was now not even the last lingering suspicion of cuteness about him, Neville returned to his job. Someone had to keep the UN's wheels turning smoothly.

A pitchure of vodka, and 6 lime slices please.

"Coming right up," said Neville, deliberately spilling some on the counter and throwing the lime slices any-old-how onto a cracked saucer.Though concentrating heavily on avoiding cuteness, he couldn't help but wonder what Jeremy intended to do with that many lime slices.

I intend to suck the lime, take a shot of vodka, repeat, in the shortest amount of time with out throwing up Neville.

*after watching neville in horror thinking he'd gone insane, Adiane heard jeremy and moved as far away as possible.*

Stephanie glanced up at Jeremy's words, then blanched with horror. She wordlessly herded Lydia, Varia and Mathieu away from the Cybertorian representative.

Ok barman Il have a very large vodka (no ice) and a double brandy for my economics minister, after resolution 114 he needs something to steady his nerves, poor chap fainted :eek: when he saw Cthag-antil's new financial status after that water resolution was passed *the leader of Cthag-antil starts to count out some loose change that he found under the sofa to pay the barman *

Lady Desdemona swept into the bar like only a sleep deprived delegate can. She turns, as always, to the part-time barman.

'Neville darling, open a new bottle of red the Ennish look worried.'

Stephanie, certain that she and he friends were a safe distance from the Cybertorian, relaxed a bit. She then glanced up, then stiffened, but this time with surprise.

"Desdemona! You're back! Haven't seen you in ages!"

'I just fell asleep and didn't wake up for months… which reminds me I need some coffee.'

"You haven't been playing with any spinning-wheels, have you?" Neville queried.

'No. Why, do you have one in the back?'

"Probably."

(I really must go through the back room one day, thought Neville. Its contents were the stuff of legend.)

"But actually, Lady Des, I was referring to your long sleep. You know -- The Sleeping Beauty? She pricked her finger on a spinning-wheel and ..."

He faltered, aware that he shouldn't have mentioned fairy stories; he couldn't imagine the child Desdemona ever having a minute to spare for that sort of thing. Besides, there was always the risk of a cuteness relapse.

Neville moved over to Jeremy and pressed another pitcher of vodka upon him. Somehow, he felt, Cybertoria's rep would be proof against any sort of cuteness tonight.

'How rude just walking away like that. I wouldn't mind a spinning wheel. You just can't buy decent black wool these days.'

Desdemona did not seem aware that she was talking to herself.

The Kawaiian UN nuncio looked on in satisfaction as the preparations for the Drunken Master Ritual were finished. The sake barrel, now clensed of any evil spirits, was propped up and tapped, ready for serving. The space around it was cleared and sprinkled with salt (conveniently "borrowed" from the margarita tray) to purify the area where the assembled otaku were seated, each with a plain white china cup in their right hands. The Happiness Police squad, in their lay role as the Righteous Oversight of the ceremony, had braided together white paper shide streamers from a stack of table napkins and were holding them out to ward off any evil spirit that thought it could crash the party (and, more mundanely, were seated around the clerics to make sure they'd be undisturbed by the milling patrons.)

"Very well," the nuncio said. "In the name of the Eternal Kawaii, let us begin." A soft chanting arose from the otaku as the nuncio, as chief priest present, poured out cups of the strong rice wine and began passing them hand to hand around the circle...

BFFG pulled up a chair right next to the congregation of the otaku. He was on the edge of his seat, watching excitedly, munching on popcorn. He noticed some of the other bargoers looking at him and wondering what he was doing. He grinned. "I've never seen one of them drink alcohol before," he told them. "I'm kind of expecting one of their heads to explode."

"I'm not surprised," the leader of the Happiness Police squad said to BFFG sitting next to her. The otaku being ritually incommunicado, she took it upon herself to manage relations with the rest of the bar patrons. "I don't recall hearing of the Drunken Master ritual being performed outside our country before." The paperwork alone on this is going to kill me, she thought silently. "You're welcome to observe, but mind the wards," she added gesturing to the shide spaced between her and her sister officers. "This is sacred space at the moment."

The nuncio finished serving the first round of sake to his brethren, and took his place in the circle. The sing-song chant grew louder as the assembled priests starting sipping in turns.

Edward Jones was on his way into the bar for a drink and spotted his Deputy sitting at a small table by himself. Thomas had always been a loner, but Edward was a little surprised that a man of Smith's obvious intellect wouldn't have figured out that fraternizing with the other ambassadors was beneficial. It was always good to be friendly with one's colleagues, after all. More things can get done if one has good connections. Sighing inwardly, Edward ordered some Kentucky Highland Moonshine and walked over to join his wayward Deputy at the table, hoping the man wasn't too tired from working in the UN after spending last night with his wives. Those women tended to give the poor fellow quite a workout when they were amorous, and the situation was complicated because the wives' cycles were so similar.

BFFG was now trembling with excitement. Everyone had been so fixated on watching the otaku that no one noticed him put on a pink shower cap, a plastic face mask, and a disposable rain poncho. "Just in case I'm right about the exploding head thing," he told everyone.

Desdemona passes the BFFG a glass of Black (Red) Wine.

"Just in case you're right about the exploding head thing, dear."

Neville slides in between Lady Des and BFFG to set up a small table on the right of the Fatus Maximus delegate. On it he places a splendidly-furnished tray of comestibles: devils-on-horseback, chicken a la king, a tempting cheese board with its accompanying selection of crackers, an orange tortured to death by impalement with cocktail-onions-on-sticks, mini dim sims, tiny kebabs, little sandwiches with indeterminate contents, devilled eggs, meatballs and dipping sauce, a selection of exotic sausages, various cream-cheese dips, still more crackers ... think of every over-catered party you've ever attended, then multiply it by 10.

He retreats, then returns to set up another small table on BFFG's left, loading it with slices of mudcake, fairy bread, chocolate crackles, date pudding, hot buttered muffins and fresh-churned extra butter, croissants, honey, ginger spread, scones, whipped cream, strawberry conserve, butterfly cakes, cream horns, piping-hot home-made doughnuts, crumpets, shortbread and shortcake, cheesecake, sundry pies and tarts, caramel slice, vanilla slice and, in the middle of them all, a giant Pavlova ... think of visiting your doting great-aunt, in which case you won't need to multiply it by 10.

Finally he places another table directly in front of the BFFG's knees. It is covered with a small damask tablecloth and bears all the crockery and cutlery necessary to consume this feast. It is also blessed with a silver teapot, a silver coffee-pot, a silver milk-jug and a silver sugar bowl (with tongs).

Neville gently ties a huge, crisp, white napkin around the BFFG's neck.

"Peanuts (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9344514&postcount=4), eh?" he says, and retires soundlessly.

'Cheese'

Lord Brythain sighed and stretched. He put the large stack of documents in a tidy pile on his left and laid his bloodquill carefully on the table. Being the de facto ambassador plenipotentiary for the Shavannarese Empire and the Emperor in Iashadarin was not a simple job, and tongue-twisting besides.

He looked out of his shadowspace, and found that the sanctity of cuteness had filled the Strangers' Bar. It rang a faint bell in his head. Perhaps this was one alternative definition of 'free space' that he had forgotten about.

Brythain took out his tattered copy of The NSUN 'Law of Space' Resolution and looked thoughtfully at it. National sovereignty and free trade, better definition of military zones, all these things were contained within it. And it still had not passed quorum. He sighed again.

Then he saw Edward Jones. Ah, one of the more productive legislators (or at least, lobbyists) in the NSUN. "Neville," Brythain purred, "A drink of the best for our friend of the Texan Hotrodders?"

"Peanuts (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9344514&postcount=4), eh?" he says, and retires soundlessly.

OOC: ROTFLMAO! :p

IC:

BFFG smiled gratefully at Neville as the bartender hustled off to attend to the needs of the other patrons. He dug in, stuffing his mouth with cheese and chicken. Swallowing them whole, he followed them with crackers and the deviled eggs. Munching on the buttered muffins, he said a quick prayer that the martyred orange would find it's way to the Land-Where-Oranges-Are-Eternally-Blessed, and popped it into his mouth along with one of the sausages. Chewing busily, he swallowed and croissant and three or four of the mini-sandwiches. He eyed the freshly baked donuts, but put off eating them until he finished the date pudding and mudcake.

He smiled as he feasted on the scones, which he had slathered with the whipped cream and strawberry jelly, oblivious to the awed stares being emitted from some of the bar patrons who had never seen anyone eat so much food so quickly. It was both oddly compelling and repulsive, disturbing yet fascinating. He masticated on the meatballs while dipping the crumpets cream cheese, before downing both the meat ball sauce and a glass of milk. He shoved one of the cocktail-onion-on-a-stick down his throat like a professional sword-eater and removed it clean, followed by another and another and another, utterly failing to notice that three of the otakus had already collapsed onto the floor, giggling and hiccuping at the same time. He turned his attention to the pavlova, which vanished under this onslaught in a matter of moments. The noises of chewing, gurgling and gulping which he emanated filled the bar like a symphany, oddly musical sounds which testified to the emotion with which he devoured the food. He ate the crackers, each one of which he dipped into several different condiment jars, and started working on the cheesecake and shortbread.

He ate the dim slims, carmel and vanilla slices, the kebabs and the pies and tarts, drowned them in another glass of milk, and wiped his mouth off on his napkin. He sighed happily, then let out a loud, satisfied belch. "Don't want to be rude," he explained to the patrons. "It's considered a compliment in Fatus Maximus." He stood up, removing his napkin, and sliding around the table Neville had placed in front of him. "Thanks a bunch, Neville! I'd love to stick around, but I've got some proposals to lend my approval to!" He normally wouldn't go to work after such a light meal, but he was in a hurry and had some business to attend to.

Sir Albert pokes his head above the bar to see how the banquet which eveyone is watching is going, then gets back to his task of quietly emptying all the beer barrels while no-one is looking.

Jeremy after takeing a few more shots feels an up heavel in his stomach, and runs to the nearist restroom...........

The Happiness Police captain looked on with a mixture of fascination, alarm, and revulsion as BFFG consumed a meal that would feed several Kawaiian families. Not that she had ever known hunger; thankfully her nation was not among the numerous hardship cases of the UN. Still, the price of a decent meal back home was enough to encourage most citizens to take seriously the Church's sermons on the evils of gluttony. She merely shook her head, shrugged, and went back to her duty of guarding the by-now rather tipsy otaku during their ceremony.

The sing-song chanting from the circle of priests seemed to be getting a little slurred as they steadily demolished the sake barrel. It was becoming clear that they'd either achieve communion with the Manifestation in their midst, or would end up roaring drunk. Quite possibly both, there seemed little difference between the two outcomes...

After resting for aminute or two from his bathroom inncident, Jeremy of Cybertoria asked "Neville, would be so kind as to give 6 pints of SAKE?

Lord Esheram Byron came to life with a start!
"HOLY CRAP NEVILLE! What was that concoction you gave me?" He exclaimed realising he had been in a trance like vision state since supping at the extra strenght libation.
Suddenly realising how hungry he was he started tucking into the platters arranged for the BFFG's repost and looking at the bemused delegates he wondered what date it was exactly?
How very strange his visions were! While in his trance he walked with a Vastivian, An Iron Piggian and a Demon lord enigmatist as they all discussed the finer points of being a god and living in the great hall of Valhalla. The visions were so real to him he didnt know wether or not to take them seriously. How very, very strange!

Yet again contorting space-time in a most bewildering manner, Varia Yefremova entered the Bar despite having never left. She found Mathieu Vergniaud slurring sweet nothings in Lydia Cornwall's ear, not entirely to the young Telidian's dismay. Varia beamed, feeling light as air, her tiredness sloughing off like a snake's shed skin.

"Evening, Neville. Do you have any..." she considered and opted for extreme indulgence, "any Isidis Raspberry Cream Liqueur (http://diden.net/~maga/images/girly.jpg)? With fresh raspberries on top? And syllabub?"

Neville recoiled in mock horror. "How could you even doubt me?"

Varia grinned sheepishly as Neville winked and went to fetch a bowl of raspberries for her to pick at while he made her drink. As she popped the first berry in her mouth she chuckled and shook her head, the realisation finally hitting home. It damn well passed! She looked up and saw Neville grinning at her in a knowing fashion. He'd made two glasses of the sickly concoction and handed her one. Raising his glass, he softly said "Cheers." She chinked her glass delicately against his and supped daintily at the drink... and then slugged back a huge mouthful, her face emerging with nose and upper lip smeared in cream.

"Cheers!"

Standing up Lydia decided to enjoy a toast with her fellow members, particularly having noted Varia’s delight in the passing of their resolution.

“Ladies and Gentlemen a toast to our Ecopoeian colleagues on passing their first resolution! I’m sure you will agree with me achieving this requires a great deal of dedication and more importantly fortitude. Though whether we agree or disagree with passed resolutions, lets take a moment to honour those who so tirelessly ensure we remain in gainful employment. Well done Varia my dear!” raising her glass.

She hoped it didn’t appear over top, particularly in light of the conveyor belt of drinks she had consumed courtesy of Mathieu. Still it was a genuine sentiment and she was sure her colleagues wouldn’t mind a little flamboyance from the otherwise prim and proper Lydia.

“Anyway Mathieu what is this we are drinking again, I’ve lost track a little?” she asked smiling and somehow looking in to those dreamy eyes made her feel she didn’t really care.

Stephanie Fulton entered the Bar, to see herself leaving. Hmm. Must be one of those time warps (http://www.forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=435738) Tink was warning about.

She joined Lydia, Mathieu and Varia.
"Well, I'm certainly not one to refuse drinks offered in congratulation of a colleague. I'll take the next shout."

Desdemona slouched over to Lydia.

'It's not that I'm bitter about my resolution failing but… oh go on then as long as it's free.'

Mines a pint *S*

“Anyway Mathieu what is this we are drinking again, I’ve lost track a little?” she asked smiling and somehow looking in to those dreamy eyes made her feel she didn’t really care.
"Ah, a fine Paristani Syrah-Grenache. A 1994 vintage, very special. It's not actuallylegal in Ecopoeia, on account of New Paristan being an IFTA signatory - they're not allowed to trade with us. However, for those in the know..." Mathieu winked at his inebriated companion, somewhat unsteadily. He was acutely aware that he was on the cusp of extreme drunkenness. Don't blow it now, he told himself.

"Neville!" he whispered, "Glass of water, please!"

Meanwhile, Varia was savouring the dregs of her quite stupendously unhealthy cocktail. She noticed Sir Albert swaying expectantly nearby.

"A pint of Heart of Darkness (http://www.ucs.louisiana.edu/~lst4606/ns/East_Hackney/Heart-of-Darkness-label.jpg) for my friend, if you'd be so kind - when you're ready, of course. And... ah, sod it - another one of these for me, please."

Byron suddenly noticed he was beside himself!
There were two Byrons in the bar, sitting side by side! In unison they both looked at Stephanie Fulton enter and leave at the same time, then looked at each other and finally in some strange type of stereo they called out.....
"Neville! that infernal machine of yours is on the fritz again!!"

BFFG walked into the bar, observed what was going on, and immediately figured out what the hell was happening. Uncertain of how to proceed, he quickly decided on a course of action. He grabbed a chair from under a table, lifted it into the air, and smashed it against the floor. Taking a broken chair leg, he clubbed himself over the head with it, and slowly fell flat onto his face, smiling all the way. Fortunately he had no duplicate, for the combined force of both of them hitting the floor at the same time could have had serious seismic effects on the bar. Hopefully when he woke up everything would be back to normal.

"Are you sure you didn't get that thing off the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation? Maybe it's objecting to cute...."

I sit down on an unnocupied stool. Suddenly, rather surprisingly, I turn, stand and address the crowd.

"Hello there. I am the Speaker. And no, I will not tell you my real name. We Apparat members must remain anonymous. Anyways, I have come here as an Emissary to the UN. It was originally supposed to be a quite short trip and so they provided me with no cash for lodging or food. I was just informed I will be spending the next few days here. I'm going to attribute it to a clerical error but I'm beginning to think Foreign Affairs doesn't like me...." My voice trails off for a moment.

"Back to matters, how does this work? Are refreshments free or will I be reduced to begging? How may I attain lodging? If anyone provides it for me, it will be charity, not a loan. I am a government offical and cannot tie my government into such things. Anyone?" I quickly retake my seat, feeling that everyone is looking at me and rightly so.

"Oh, don't worry, Speaker," Stephanie answered. "Drinks get shouted regularly here, and Neville never allows anyone to starve."

BFFG walked into the bar, observed what was going on, and immediately figured out what the hell was happening. Uncertain of how to proceed, he quickly decided on a course of action. He grabbed a chair from under a table, lifted it into the air, and smashed it against the floor. Taking a broken chair leg, he clubbed himself over the head with it, and slowly fell flat onto his face, smiling all the way. Fortunately he had no duplicate, for the combined force of both of them hitting the floor at the same time could have had serious seismic effects on the bar. Hopefully when he woke up everything would be back to normal.
Both byrons turned to the BFFG that had been obscured from view of the now bleeding heavilly BFFG by the Byrons who at the time were sitting side by side facing the entry. What did you do that for? They enquired smiling. The BFFG smiled back informing the byrons of the fact that the quickest way to pass a confusing time was to sleep through it. With that the Byron on the right walked over to the BFFG on the floor and picked up the broken barstool leg which had rendered the BFFG unconcious so effectively.
Turning quickly he smashed it against the Left Byrons skull who fell to the floor, out cold. Retaking his seat the right Byron smiled at BFFG.
"it seems theres another effect of the Duality! Im the evil one! It appears to be a Jeckle and Hyde duality. Now, whom shall i offend so as to start the escalation of an international incident?"

Jeremy of Cybertoria, in a very drunken stuper grabs a bar stool, and strows it across the room, and ends up hitting someone, so Jeremy and the other person start trading punches (im trying to get a bar fight role play here.).

A figure in a red velvet robe enters the bar. Surveying the room they approach the bar, the figure pulls back its hood to reveal a striking looking young man with white-blond hair and golden skin and cheekbones you could cut diamonds on. Looking around the room again he leaned over to the barkeep, "em Neville isn't it?" he spoke with a strange lilting accent, "Could I have a glass of Merlot please, and could you tell me if a certain diplomat, Samantha Ballard of Neo-Anarchists, has been in?"

Desdemona walks over to the newest drunk… urm…. patron.

'Nice velvet. May I buy you that Merlot?'

"Why thank you", the man replies, "my name's Ays, I'm the Thermidorean UN diplomat". The merlot arrives and so he gesture Desdemona away from the bar, "perhaps we should sit where there's less, um, brawling" noting the delegate of Cybertoria getting pounded against a wall by some strange green tentacled thing.

Sitting down at a table he looked over at Desdemona, "perhaps you can help me, you see I'm looking for a fellow diplomat from my region, she's a redhead of about yay-height and most days she's generally on the good side of bipolar. Her name's Samantha and she's from Neo Anarchists".

"You haven't seen her have you?"

'No, I'm afraid I haven't. Still things are a bit muddle in here. She'll be along sooner rather than later.'

Desdemona takes her seat and arranges herself on it's arm.

'I suppose there's nothing I could help you with. Oh… I should warn you won't get far away from brawling in this bar. Best make the most of the entertainment'

She props her glass on the head a drunken delegate. Namely Giordano.

≈tarnation!≈ thought Ays as he looked around ≈how am I going to get out of this mess, I now see why our diplomats are sent here as punishment≈

...the Cybertorian diplomat flies over Ays' head...

≈I mean who knew that digitally recorded pillow talk would hold up in court?≈

...the unconscious Byron wakes up only to get pounded by his evil doppelgänger some more...

≈Well nothing for it, but to sit back and observe!≈ he mused surveying the room, brushing imaginary dust off his velvet mantle.

"So Desdemona, what's a lady like you doing in a place like this?"

'I'm just passing through. Only it's taking longer than I expected. All these distractions.'

"Tell me who is that group over there, they look like they're celebrating something...."

(indicating at the delegates from Ecopeia and Telidia who were becoming increasingly intoxicated)

"I heard that this was to place to become more informally acquainted with your fellow UN members I had no idea how friendly...."

*Adaine sat next to the Thermidore ambassador as far away from evil byron and the brawl as he could. he had offered the Speaker a place in the yurts with him, trying to find out what his name was.*

Stephanie managed to extricate herself from the Ecopoeian/Telidian tangle, and moved over to Desdemona, Adaine and the Thermidorian.

"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that to happen. Did you know about Lydia and Mathieu, Des?" she asked.

Then, seeing the Thermidorian, "Forgive me, forgotten my manners. I'm Stephanie Fulton, Ennish Consul to the UN. Welcome to the Strangers' Bar. Mind the drunk couples and the punches, and otherwise you'll be fine.
"Except when Neville's machines start playing up, "she finished, indicating the two Byrons locked together.

The Happiness Police captain looked at the tossed chair arc over the semi-drunk patrons and crash into a table. Naturally the patron seated there took exception to this new method of rearranging the seating, and lept his feet, looking for Jeremy with looks that could kill and fists that seemed more than willing to carry out the job. Another brawl looked inevitable.

She looked over her shoulder at the nuncio and the other otaku, who by now were in a deep, drunken stupor, their chanting reduced to something vaguely sounding like "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall". Apparently they'd achieved communion with the Manifestation, but as a result they'd be totally useless for several hours. I really don't need this, she thought to herself, and looked around, checking to see whether the brawl showed any signs of heading towards her and her sister officers' protective ring.

"Tell me who is that group over there, they look like they're celebrating something...."
'The Ecopoeians' resolution just passed but they are always celebrating something'


"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that to happen. Did you know about Lydia and Mathieu, Des?"
'I'm always the last to know.'

Lord Brythain sighed and stretched. He put the large stack of documents in a tidy pile on his left and laid his bloodquill carefully on the table. Being the de facto ambassador plenipotentiary for the Shavannarese Empire and the Emperor in Iashadarin was not a simple job, and tongue-twisting besides.

He looked out of his shadowspace, and found that the sanctity of cuteness had filled the Strangers' Bar. It rang a faint bell in his head. Perhaps this was one alternative definition of 'free space' that he had forgotten about.

Brythain took out his tattered copy of The NSUN 'Law of Space' Resolution and looked thoughtfully at it. National sovereignty and free trade, better definition of military zones, all these things were contained within it. And it still had not passed quorum. He sighed again.

Then he saw Edward Jones. Ah, one of the more productive legislators (or at least, lobbyists) in the NSUN. "Neville," Brythain purred, "A drink of the best for our friend of the Texan Hotrodders?"

"I'll take that drink," said Edward with a friendly smile for the only fellow he had seen who could out-match that fellow from Anti-Pharisaism for quality discourse. "How is your work with the UN progressing, sir?"

As the brawl continued, Evil Byron found he was enjoying himself! Nothing cheered him up more than seeing others in pain. He watched as the green tentacled thing pounded Jeremy of cybertoria and then threw him across the room, Jeremy ending in a crumpled mess near the door. He fixed on the GTT (green Tentacled Thing) and watched it for some time, sizing up his strange new quarry. Then the oppertunity arose! Lunging forward Evil Byron planted a massive kick between the GTT's fourth and fifth tentacle. The GTT turned blue and fell to the floor writhing in agony. "Nothing hurts more than a kick in the balls " Evil Byron thought to himself smiling happily. Suddenly he felt a severe pain on the back of his skull. turning as his legs gave his last concious vision was of the Good Byron standing above him, Chair leg in hand...........

The Good byron had woke head throbbing from the multiple bashings from his nemesis. He noticed the mellee all around and evil Byron distracted by the GTT and he picked him self up. Spying the chair leg he reached down and picked it up. He had watched Evil Byron inflict a devestating blow to the GTT and a fury took him over! this has to end he thought as he approached evil Byron. Now standing over the unconcious menace he looked around the bar. He grabbed the drawstrings off some nearby curtains and proceded to hog tie the Nasty Byron. This will sort him out while i get neville to fix this, he thought. Seeing Voilet Bracket he called to her an order of Aspirin and bandages with a large glass of brandy to ease the pain. Where the heck was Neville? he wondered looking at the mess and he walked over to joun stephanie and company. Hi there Im Esheram Byron he said to the thermodorian and nodding a greeting to the others who already knew him. Has anyone seen neville? we have to fix this!

*Adaine sat next to the Thermidore ambassador as far away from evil byron and the brawl as he could. he had offered the Speaker a place in the yurts with him, trying to find out what his name was.*

Then, seeing the Thermidorian, "Forgive me, forgotten my manners. I'm Stephanie Fulton, Ennish Consul to the UN. Welcome to the Strangers' Bar. Mind the drunk couples and the punches, and otherwise you'll be fine.
"Except when Neville's machines start playing up, "she finished, indicating the two Byrons locked together

Ays was lost in his thoughts again, "oh my apologies" he blurted, after Desdemona waved a hand in front of his face "I was in another world"

"My name is Ays, pleasure to meet you both! Adaine and Stephanie is it? Such exotic names!"

Looking around Ays noticed the brawl was dying down in their part of the bar, as enraged delegates chased eachother toward some sort of prayer-circle. A woman who looked to be guarding it, looked obviously stressed.
"Poor thing" he thought, "but I'll make the most of it while it's quiet on this side "

Finishing the rather splendid Merlot, he stood up and asked the assorted company "So now that there's a clear path to the bar, what can I get you fine folks to drink?"

'Some black wine please. It's actually red and contains very little wine…'

"It's not me!" complained a rather flustered Neville, emerging from the ceiling where he had been poking a screwdriver into anything vaguely suitable, leading to some interesting spark-and-smoke effects. "And it's not the machines, either," he added. "I put them on vacation mode when the otaku started. I didn't want them to interfere with their alternate realities."

Some uneasy muttering followed this announcement. Several of the more evil regulars were unhappy at the thought that they wouldn't be instantly resurrected should any assassination attempt succeed.

"It's okay," Neville reassured them. "I keep the emergency button with me at all times. It resets the machines to five seconds before the need for them arose ... arises ... whatever."

Further uneasy muttering followed as regulars with a more scientific bent scribbled on their beer-coasters trying to calculate what this would do to the space-time continuum.

"Besides, everything's normal except Byron, really," the Barlord soothed. "The brawl's normal -- though I would have choreographed it better, myself; you always need a shot of someone who's been brained with a bottle smiling his way into unconsciousness as he licks up the alcohol that's dripping down his nose. And the esoteric religious practices fit in perfectly with the overall motif, I feel. But," he added, turning to more practical matters,"we've still got two Byrons."

Violet Bracket gave a cat-with-the-cream smirk. She evidently felt that this was no problem at all. A perfectly good, sensitive, intelligent, handsome man; a perfectly bad, dashing, intelligent, handsome man; what romantic novelist could ask for more?

Neville, however, disliked Cartesian duality. "Just come over here, if you would, Goodguy, and hold your Badlad's left hand. Then I'll clip these on."

"These" were a pair of thick cables, one black, one red, snaking down from the manhole in the ceiling. Each had a huge alligator clip attached.

"Er, Neville, are you sure?" asked Brother Timothy, emerging from his on-going awed contemplation of Lady Des. "Those look as if they could carry a pretty lethal charge."

"Nothing to worry about," Neville responded airily.

"Things have been so busy round here for Violet and me that we're suffering the effects of slight server overload, I'd say. The double-Byron's only a minor glitch in the system. I think everything will be back to normal if we can just deliver a really good Jolt."

The good Byron looked at Neville and the two clips. Evidently he was about to experience some pain and he disliked pain in all forms mainly due to his cushioned childhood and an over doting mother.
"ok then lets do it!" he replied to a smirking Neville and he dragged the moaning body of his evil and still unconcious twin to the point where the clips could reach them both. "are you sure this is going to work?" he asked looking bemused and fearful. Weighing up the pros and cons of having his evil self around he could see would have some benifits. However there was Violet to think about and having a competitor equal in every way was one competitor too many. He had so many Questions regarding the procedeure and also pointed out the two BFFG's and how he had clearly seen two Stephanie Fultons.
"Well i suppose lets sort this out he sighed", apprehensive as to what was about to happen. Good Byron grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the counter and drank from it for several seconds. Presenting himself and the still hogtied Evil Byron to the clamps, he bravely instructed, "Neville, Do your thing!"

Carrying his drinks back to the table Ays pointed the others in Byron's direction,

"looks like there's going to be some sort of show", he said, "but does anyone mind telling me what the machines the barman is fiddling with, do? I heard something about assassination preventation, and while I'm pretty assassination-attempt free...."

≈apart from a few psycho ex's≈, he thought

"...I still don't understand how they can do it. Unless they do something like stop time or something - haha..." he trailed off noticing that the table were all taking out communicators, his own started buzzing, he'd got a message...

"Ays - seems like the Mitigation of Large Reservoirs proposal became a resolution - guess that means you'll be actualy working. I expect the legislative changes by tomorrow morning. Have a nice night. Casmeer."

"Well I'd love to stay and celebrate, but looks like I've a ton of paperwork to get through - how do you guys manage it? If you see the delegate from Neo-Anarchists tell her I'm looking for her, if anyone knows a way off this infernal beurocrasy choked place it's her...
Adios"

With that Ays nimbly dodged a reawoken big green tentacled thing, that was on its way to the Byrons with murder in its many eyes. Avoidding the brawl that was now dangerously close to the prayer circle he found the door

≈Fun place≈ he thought ≈I'll have to come back here≈

Jeremy who had deep lacerations, from his fight called can I get a medic, and what the hell was that thing?

BFFG stepped next to Neville, interested in the goings on. He watched as the two Byrons prepared to be alligator-clipped into one body. He tugged on the bartender's sleeve. "Do the clips HAVE to be attached to their nipples?" he asked.

The good Byron was in agony while the evil one stood there smiling calling goody a wuss boy. As they had approached the evil Byron (EB) had woken and jumped to his feet still hog tied. Jumping on the spot he had suggested to Neville that the nipples would be a better point of contact whilst Good Byron (GB) had been whispering sweet nothings into Violets ear. Quick as a flash the shirts were opened showing well formed erm, chest muscles :D and with lightning speed and accuracy the nipples were clamped. GB yelped in agony and while a chorus of oooh yeah baby give me some mo came from EB. clearly relishing both his pain and his nemisis.
A roaring Blob Started toward the two moving as quick as it could which almost seemed in slow motion so vast was his mass, as the GTT tried to figure out which Byron had kicked him in the goolies. EB grinned sheepishly at the GTT and nodding in GB's direction and smirking in a he did it but i know otherwise fashion.Spying the GTT accepting EBs message of comdemnation GB forgot the increasing Pain to his nipples long enough to suggest to Neville that if he was going to do something Now was that time.
Neville gave a reasuring nod to GB and turned a large dial on the machine, then flicked the switch.........................

OOC. I havent laughed this hard in some time. This should definately be stickied simply as a resource for comedy writers everywhere! :p

OOC: I crack up daily whenever I log on to Nationstates... If you're looking for a good laugh, I would humbly submit my factbook (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=430187) for your reading pleasure... I highly recommend the uniform description underneath the military section... :D

IC: BFFG swooned as he saw the look of agony on the GB's face. Just looking at it made his own nipples hurt... His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell flat onto his back, unconcious. The floor shook, and the machine wobbled ever so slightly...

The Happiness Police captain blanched as she saw the GTT shamble by, and thrust out her shide ward, hoping the obviously demonic creature would pass by and not try to interfere with the ceremony. Luckily the blobbish creature had other things on what passed for its mind, and it reared up, ready to flail the nearest Bryon.

As timing would have it, the Drunken Master ritual was reaching its apex, with the by-now well pickled otaku chanting wildly if rather incoherently. Strangly, the Manifestation of cuteness over the bar seemed to grow with the inebriation, to the point where several small fluffy animals were spilling out and landing around the GTT.

The Happiness Police captain blanched again, even whiter as she began putting two and two together. Evil Bryon + Good Bryon...GTT and a herd of cute fluffy animals...and Neville preparing some form of fusion?

"DON'T THROW THAT SWITCH!!!!" she yelled.

Recovering from his injuries, Jeremy decided to take out his M-16, and opend fire on the creature so the procedure could continue without any interuptions.

It was during one of Lydia’s more sober minutes that she noticed her friends had deserted her and occupied a table at the other end of the room. “Oh dear” she thought “don’t think the subtle approach was particularly subtle” looking at the string of glasses in front of her and Mathieu.

“Mathieu I think I might call it the night here if you don’t mind. It looks like our colleagues have deserted us and I have an early catch up meeting with my staff in the morning.” It was by no accident that Lydia had decided to leave partly to avoid any further embarrassment, but mostly to gauge the reaction of Mathieu. “Oh these silly games we play” she thought, “if only…” but she suppressed that particular thought before it could reach its conclusion while completing the note she had been writing.

The note simply read; “Neville please put Des, Varia and Stephanie’s drinks tonight on my tab, I’ve rather neglected them tonight.”

Recovering from his injuries, Jeremy decided to take out his M-16, and opened fire on the creature so the procedure could continue without any interruptions.
Fortunately, though the Bar's Automatic Disarm doors had unaccountably failed to work, some quirk of the various extraordinary time-space manipulations going on turned all Jeremy's ammunition into marshmallows.

The green blob, greatly placated, collected as many as possible and settled down to dispose of them. Her/their grudge against Jeremy waned; he was not, after all, the first alien to be so overwhelmed by her/their beauty that he had been tempted to make an improper approach.

It was, in its twisted way, a tribute, and he seemed a nice little creature. She/theyresolved that later, if his feeble little limbs were up to the task, she/they would instruct him in the proper manner of approaching Grttlvsk.

"DON'T THROW THAT SWITCH!!!!" she yelled.
Neville heard the cry of the Happiness Police captain and turned swiftly to unfasten the alligator clips. He certainly wouldn't risk trying to perform a personality integration while a Manifestation was going on -- what if Badlad Byron melded with a fluffy wabbit?

The floor shook, and the machine wobbled ever so slightly...
But he had unclipped only one when the floor shook and something bumped his arm. Involuntarily, his thumb closed on the fatal button.

Fortunately, though the Bar's Automatic Disarm doors had unaccountably failed to work, some quirk of the various extraordinary time-space manipulations going on turned all Jeremy's ammunition into marshmallows.

The green blob, greatly placated, collected as many as possible and settled down to dispose of them. Her/their grudge against Jeremy waned; he was not, after all, the first alien to be so overwhelmed by her/their beauty that he had been tempted to make an improper approach.

It was, in its twisted way, a tribute, and he seemed a nice little creature. She/theyresolved that later, if his feeble little limbs were up to the task, she/they would instruct him in the proper manner of approaching Grttlvsk.




Jeremy's "feeble" "little" arms are up to a proper fight so Jeremy gets into a hi-tech battle suit like Iron Man wares and properly challenges the creature to a fight by asking but not demanding.

It was during one of Lydia’s more sober minutes that she noticed her friends had deserted her and occupied a table at the other end of the room. “Oh dear” she thought “don’t think the subtle approach was particularly subtle” looking at the string of glasses in front of her and Mathieu.

“Mathieu I think I might call it the night here if you don’t mind. It looks like our colleagues have deserted us and I have an early catch up meeting with my staff in the morning.” It was by no accident that Lydia had decided to leave partly to avoid any further embarrassment, but mostly to gauge the reaction of Mathieu. “Oh these silly games we play” she thought, “if only…” but she suppressed that particular thought before it could reach its conclusion while completing the note she had been writing.

The note simply read; “Neville please put Des, Varia and Stephanie’s drinks tonight on my tab, I’ve rather neglected them tonight.”
Mathieu's face fell, but he recovered magnificently (or so he thought).

"Of, course... I understand. Ah, let me escort you to the door; the Bar appear to have be under siege from all manner of strange manisef-, mafinesta-, um, things." he finished, lamely. Swaying, he stood, put a light arm around Lydia and resolutely avoided catching the smirking Varia's eye.

"We, ah, should do this again sometime. If you don't mind...?"

Damn, he thought, suppressing a hiccup, whatever happened to my Gallic charm?

Miklos walks into the bar, dodging all flying objects lethal or otherwise, and heads to the bar, looking around at the comotion...
"Sorry to interupt the conflict, i just thought i would get myself a drink. Just got in from Brewery last night, damn thats a long flight. Anyone want a drink while i'm heading to the bar?...I'm Miklos by the way Miklos Vilmosh"

There was a boom.

Byrons multiplied and divided.

Stephanie saw herself from across the room, but this was nothing new. It had been happening to her throughout much of her time at the Bar.

Then everything went dark.

"Dearie me," Stephanie muttered. "What's happened now, Neville?"

Good Byron (GB) awoke after the initial shockwave had knocked him hard to the ground. His nipples were throbbing as he had been blown beyond the lenght of the cables and the clips had pulled away. He looked up to notice there were now 5 extra Byrons all smiling happily with Bunny ears and Evil byron (EB) was cracking up laughing. Nevilles split second decisions had ensured there would be only one evil manefestation of Esheram Byron and he had swiftly de clipped EB.
Voilet Brackets cat had begun attacking one of the New Byrons, Clearly mistaking him for a rabbit.
GB put his head in his hands in despair and now rued the day he walked into the UN Strangers Bar.
"Neville! One pint of blue label vodka and a straw please" he muttered through his hands!
Good Bunny Byron No.3 (GBB3) sat down beside GB and enquired, " Eh!, Whats Up Doc?"

Awakened by the explosion, Big Friendly Fat Guy groaned, sitting up. His head swam for a moment, then he opened his eyes. He was confronted by five new Byrons, proudly wearing impressive rabbit ears and munching on carrots good naturedly. "Well, alright then!" he said, and passed out again.

GBB (Good Byron Bunnies) 1 - 5 sat with evil Byron(EB) and the GTT(Green tentacled thing), Playing cards. EB was winning as he was cheating. Good Byron (GB) was sitting at the bar wondering what the heck next? looking pale over the near empty pint glass with a single mouthful of Blue lable vodka remaining. He called to Voilet to refresh his glass and looked at Neville. Neville at this point was looking at his gizmo doing advance calculus equations in his mind and jotting on sheet after sheet of paper, clearly trying to figure what went wrong and how to fix it.
Voilet filled his glass and smiled at him. This somehow made him feel better for a moment then all hell broke loose at the card table. The GTT had EB by the neck with a tentacle. The GBB's looking in absolute terror.
GB grabbed the machine gun from beside Jeremy and unloaded a torrent of bullets in the general direction of the GTT which instantly changed to Marsh mallows as another of Nevilles machines kicked into action again. Well at least something works in here gb muttered as EB was dropped painfully to the floor,gasping for breath, and the GTT did a weird Happy dance as it loved Marsh Mallows.

The ambassador extrordinare from Sylvanwold, responsible for proposing his nation for U.N. membership, accidently enters the club thinking he is going into the public canteen. Spying the well-polished bar and the friendly-enough looking barkeep, he removes his ceremonial mountain lion headress and asks for an Old Mountain Red Ale. Surprised when he is actually served it, he tosses a few silver kopecks on the bar and asks as politely as possible, "So who's here that I should know?" Waiting for an answer he takes a deep drink from his stein that sends foam down his luxuriant 20 inch beard.

Scurrying around in a semi-crouch and dodging a chair violently disloged in his direction by the deranged dance of the GTT, Leonard Otterby, the Compadrian ambassador to the U.N. hastily grapped a stool at the bar and let out a sigh of relief.

"pint of Guiness please Neville, from the tap".

Upon being served he raised the glass to his lips and upon tasting the first essence of hops and barley, a beautific smile spread across his lined visage.

"Ah, sweet Guiness," he exhaled, "how would I survive these committee meetings without the prospect of you at the end of it all".

Surveying the room, he marvelled at the utter concentration of the delegates despite the GTT continuing to flail its arms in all directions and the various Evil Byron's grimacing in pain at being shot with marshmallows. With a start he realised to his horror that he had left his briefcase in the Agricultural Fertilisers Committee (3rd ranking).

Oh b*****, he thought, and took another swig.

"Well, Byrons, I'm curious," Stephanie said, approaching the card table. "What happens to the Hibernian succession now?"

Sir Albert stands up and staggers to the bar, surrounded by a squad of the Bahgumian Mother in Law security detail (anti Marshmallow division) - the most feared beings on the planet, their beady eyes roving around the room, sending shivers of terror through whoever they fleetingly rest on.
'Pint o' Bahgumian best barkeep, ta' slurs Sir Albert, then sits down at the bar and watches the mayhem from behind the MILs, probably the safest place in the known galaxy.

"Perhaps you'd like to meet Miklos Vilmosh? He's new, too," Neville suggested, waving the Sylvanwold ambassador towards the Sororszag delegate. But his heart wasn't in the meet-and-greets that he usually saw as half the reason for the Bar's existence. Neville had to make A Decision.

If he chose wrongly, many lives would be altered. It might wipe out the growing romance between Lydia and Mathieu, both of whom he was fond of. It might eliminate all possibility of racial cross-pollination between the green-tentacled thing and Jeremy, to whom she/they had obviously taken quite a fancy. Worst, it might somehow mar the religious experiences of the otaku.

Neville had a deep respect for religious experiences. He remembered a transcendental moment in his last year at Barlord U, when he and his colleagues had ritually celebrated the precious liquids (http://www.bigad.com.au/) to which their lives would be devoted . . .

The warmth of his private meditation strengthened him. Closing his eyes, he felt under his thumb the tiny button which, according to Acme Enterprises, Ltd, would take everything back to "five seconds before the need for it arose".

Alone in the darkness of his skull, he pressed it.

Had 'the need' had arisen just now, when the Byrons multiplied? Or earlier, when the Manifestation appeared? Or earlier still, when the otaku first entered? Or way back in the beginning, when the Bar and all its subsidiaries, including the UN and its galaxies of worlds, was Jolted?

Fearfully, Neville opened his eyes ...

Varia of Ecopoeia (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9367966&postcount=2403) was grinning sheepishly at him. He remembered, with a surge of relief, the raspberry cream liqueur.

Now, if he did just one different thing, the new time-line would be launched and the multiple Byrons would never have existed. It would be a blow to his reputation, but sometimes the greater good must prevail.

"Sorry, Varia," he responded. "But we have got the strawberry ..."

Lord Esheram Byron came to life with a start!
"HOLY CRAP NEVILLE! What was that concoction you gave me?" He exclaimed realising he had been in a trance like vision state since supping at the extra strenght libation.
Suddenly realising how hungry he was he started tucking into the platters arranged for the BFFG's repost and looking at the bemused delegates he wondered what date it was exactly?
How very strange his visions were! While in his trance he walked with a Vastivian, An Iron Piggian and a Demon lord enigmatist as they all discussed the finer points of being a god and living in the great hall of Valhalla. The visions were so real to him he didnt know wether or not to take them seriously. How very, very strange!
Prince Esheram Byron felt kinda silly, and had a sudden feeling of being alone. "Neville, could i have another of those blaster thingies, not as strong this time! ive a meeting next monday i simply have to attend."

The Happiness Police captain puzzled over the numerous poker playing Byrons, many of which appeared to be sporting rabbit-ears. Not being an otaku herself, she felt a little uncertain about this strange result of the Manifestation. She sighed, acknowleging the obvious drawback of the Drunken Master ritual--despite putting the nuncio and his brothers in communion with the Manifestation to learn Its intentions and desires, it made communicating with them impossible.

She turned around, and saw the last of the otaku slump into a drunken stupor. The chanting had ended, indicating the ritual had concluded. With a sigh of relief, she instructed her sister officers to begin rounding the plastered otaku up and propping them on chairs, waiting for the Discipline of Holy Hangover to drive home the lessons learned from the communion.

"Sorry, Varia," he responded. "But we have got the strawberry ..."
"Strawberry?"

Varia's face fell. Ecopoeians were very picky about their berries. The Isidis Cream Liqueur Collective certainly didn't make any strawberry-based drinks. Who had duped Neville? And how? She sighed, euphoria at the passing of Freedom of Conscience rapidly dissipating.

"Uh... I'll have a Bloody Mary instead, please. Plenty of Worcester, spices and fresh lemon. And possibly a bucket of ice-cold water for my Deputy and young Lydia."

'belch'........swish...slap.....'ow'


Sir Albert makes a note not to drink with the mother in law......

Byron slowly edges past a MIL, Hands raised above his head in a submissive giving up stance, Not once breaking eye contact or making a sudden move. Standing now beside the Bruised and Ishoulda Known better looking Sir Albert, Byron enquired " when is it safe to put my hands down and can i buy you a drink?"
The MIL seeing Byron had no Ill intent to the Northern Gent relaxed only enough that the veins in her temples stopped throbbing, yet she still watched him closely. How goes the Campaign against the Humour Police? Byron Enquired slowly and carefully.

*Door opens* hmm, looks like a nice place. *Walks up to bar* One diet cola please. *Sits down*

"It's on the house," said Neville, eyeing the new rep approvingly. Anyone who had the sophistication to spend his first post on the Strangers' Bar was obviously destined for a long and honourable career.

"I'm Neville," he added, shamefacedly displaying his revolting little enamel name-tag, "and this is the venerable Sir Albert of Bahgum, with accomanying Mother-In-Law. Here we have Prince Esheram Byron, the Hope of Hibernia ..."

Continuing smoothly with the introductions, Neville signalled frantically behind his back to Violet Bracket. The quick-witted barmaid darted across to a shadowy niche into which the Green-Tentacled Thing had retreated and drew the curtain across.

"I do hope that wasn't Jeremy," she worried. It had been only a glimpse, though; no, surely she had been imagining that the singing Cybertorian was ... "Let's not go there, Violet," she scolded herself.

All the same, noticing on the way back to the bar that the new Compadrian delegate was sitting on his own, she decided for safety's sake to coax him away from his isolated seat. The curtain was now bulging intermittently and rippling in a most unsettling manner.

"Come meet Byron, Mr Otterby, he's an expert on Guinness," she urged.

Neville was just finishing the introductions as they returned. "... and the Big Fat Friendly Guy, temporarily unconscious amid the aftermath of a Drunken Master ritual," he concluded. "So, perhaps you'd like to tell us a little about yourself? How're things in Lateal?"

Staff and customers concentrated determinedly on the new rep's reply. It seemed best to ignore the noises now coming from behind the curtain. Not to mention the radiation.

There was a loud sloshing noise and a pale green light lit up the bar from behind the curtain. Suddenly a smell like burning tar filled the room and some of the patrons started to vomit. "Jesus! thats rank!" Byron was heard to say before disapearring out the door for fresh air. Then he saw what it was. Looking in a window he could see the GTT had begun to consume Jeremy of Cybertoria. His legs were sticking out at the top of the green blob as it swallowed him whole and the chemicals now interacting with Jeremies High Tech Battle suit.
Byron rushed back in and drew nevilles attention and the bars patrons by running up and pulling back the curtain.
Byron turned to Neville, As the GTT had now consumed Jeremy to his Knees. "I demand that this abombination be asked to leave! I mean its just not the done thing to swallow a delegate, A lowly minion of the delegates perhaps but not a Delegate! As to how we are going to extract Jeremy i just do not know?" said Byron with a puzzled look of utter disgust. " Thats if there is anything left to extract!"[I]

BFFG came to slowly, rubbing his eyes. He felt a little dizzy for a moment. ...why do I have this incredible urge to run up to Byron and get into a heated argument with him which will result in me being tricked into blowing my own head off with a shotgun?,he thought. He yawned and stretched, then opened his eyes. He was confronted by the sight of half a dozen of the most feared warriors in the universe- the Mother-in-law patrol unique to Baghum. His eyelids fluttered and he passed out again.

The mothers in law decide that the old throbbing vein in the forehead trick is too easy and leave Sir Albert & Byron to their beers, deciding to opt for a slow menacing prowl around the bar before thay leave, stopping momentarily to reorganise how the bottles are stacked behind the bar....their fill of interfering over, they head off.

By eck Byron, tha's brave, t'campaign for fun is going slowly, the boredom police are everywhere...a spate of fun thread locking appeared ony t'other day...but the campaign continues, a low level guerrilla fun assault.....

With that, Byrons Communicator bleeped loudly. He flipped open the device and read that the Proposed UNCoESB had reached Quorum.
Smiling broadly on reading the news Byron turned to Neville.
"A round of drinks for everyone in the Bar on the Hibernian Tab Neville! We shall drink to the UNCoESB Getting delegate Approval and May she fly when she comes to the Vote."

Anyone care to take bets as to how long before our latest thread gets locked?

Neville, discreetly replacing the curtain, looked embarrassed. "Byron, when a Mummy and Daddies Green-Tentacled Thing is/are very much in love and they meet a nice alien like Jeremy, sometimes they have some very special cuddles and ... look, it's not my job to tell you about this. Besides, we don't even know that it is the real Jeremy."

Receiving some enquiring looks from his more innocent customers, he grew even pinker.

"See, the way I understand it, when GTTs see attractive aliens and the attractive aliens aren't all that interested in them, the GTT goes away and, er, imagines ... fantasises ... well, a sort of replica ... oh, dammit, people, look it up in the Wiki or something! And don't go near that curtain!"

He looked on Byron with some disfavour. "First you multiply, then you try to divide!" he grumbled, waving at the curtain. "Or was it subtraction you had in mind? Still," he added, in cheerier tones, "I guess a round of drinks evens things up."

Violet, meanwhile, was dealing with the unfortunate stench. She sprayed the room with the fabulous new air-freshener Max. "Guaranteed to lift your spirits!" the label promised.

BFFG, who had revived as soon as the mothers-in-law had left, chuckled into his beer. "Max... what will they think of next? What an utterly ridiculous name! How the hell do they expect to sell a product named 'Max'?" He smiled, taking a sip from his mug. "My Gods, could you imagine that being a human name? It's ridiculous! I'd pity any poor sap who got stuck with that name... what kind of sick parent, twisted parent would name their kid Max? Still, at least it's only got the one x..." he shrugged, and turned back to his drink.

Byron viewed Neville with a look of utter Disbelief. He had so many questions.
Finally he walked back over to the bar, deciding to have a beer and to stay well clear of the GTT.

Never mind being called Max, imagine being a poor soul who has a first name for a surname as well! Mind you some people think the extra x is kind of cool, deranged people mind you, but it happens.

Nemar rhyn Anurion stalked into the Strangers' Bar, clad in the deep grey panoply and sable cloak of stars that heralded a Marshal of the West. He was burly for an elf, with a rather sinister leer caused by a badly healed swordcut. Said leer was was currently being inflicted on the slightly leery denizens of the Bar.

Curious eyes turned his way as he raised his Marshal's staff and authorised himself a door into Brythain's web of shadows. Seconds later, he stalked out again, his bit-part role in the evening's proceedings over.

=====

Lord Brythain of Roathin rubbed his tired eyes. The Empire had raised him to paramount Grand Duke of the realm. He threw the scroll into a corner of his cubicle and forced a Pythagorean Daemon to eat it, from corner to corner. Said daemon soon expired from a bad case of hypotenusion. It did not make Brythain's mood any better.

The report on the Transgender Act was a source of vast irritation and no small dyspepsia. He had thought Saladaar's high lords would stand against it, and yet they had all voted in unanimous conclave in support. Unprecedented.

Then he had seen the clause: "Law enforcement authorities should be encouraged to access anti-transgender training so they can adequately and sufficiently deliver justice to members of the transgender community."

Of course the Saladorns had supported it. They stood to gain NSUN complicity in their wars against those they deemed perverts. He could see exactly how they would access 'anti-transgender training'. He could smell the corpses in the sun, 'justice' having been delivered like some payload of mass destruction. He sighed. He would have to vote against the Act, and persuade others to do likewise.

"Neville!" he roared, the unfamiliar noise scattering dreambirds and sycophants. "TWO of the best of Ireland, please!"

BFFG stroked his chin. "Hmm..." he said, thinking aloud. "Neville's got every kind of alcholic drink ever know to man/elf/penguin/etc., right?" His mouth opened slowly, emotions crossing his face one after another- first realization, then hope, then doubt, then more hope, followed by pure unadulterated joy. "Oy, Neville! A bottle of McChubster's Best Brew!"

In his diplomatic travels around the world(s), he had frequently stopped at foreign taverns to sample the local moonshine, and had often gone away disappointed with low-quality booze. Oh, sure, there were times when he had found Grade A booze- for example, he had developed quite a fondness for Madnestani liquor- but never once had he found a drink that could rival the exquisiteness of McChubster's Best Brew.

Oh, McChubster's, McChubster's, the beer that made grown men cry and alcoholics weep, a drink so frosty ice condensed on the glass, a beverage that went down so smooth you'd swear they'd found a way to bottle perfection. Shaun McChubster was worshipped by Fatus Maxians as a god, the man who had first discovered the divine ambrosia which he opted to share with the rest of humanity- for a small fee, of course. Statues of him were found in the town square of many a city, and he was the most beloved man in Fatus Maximus. He was one of the richest men in the land, too, but he had not been satisfied with merely going down in his history books as the creator of the best tasting beer of all time. No, surely not! And so Shaun McChubster had opened the McChubster line of fast food restaurants, and again had been surrounded by throngs of the grateful admirers who lovingly devoured the burgers and fries he so graciously provided them with. The fast food joints had spread like wildfire, until there was one within every town, village and shantytown in Fatus Maximus. And that was only beginner. McChubster products could be found everywhere. When men and women in Fatus Maximus took a shower, they wiped themselves off with a McChubster brand bath towel. When you felt like listening to music, you turned on your McChubster AM/FM radio. And when children watched early morning cartoons, they almost certainly turned to McChubster's Happy Time Fun Hour, beloved by viewers and television producers alike.

Big Friendly Fat Guy felt the tingle of anticipation throughout his body. Whenever he returned to Fatus Maximus to brief the Prime Minister, he stopped at his favorite tavern, The Roasted Ham, to down a few pints of McChubster's, but those visits were far and few between, and he hadn't had a sip in months. Would Neville have it in stock? Would he fall of his barstool with the first gulp? Would riots take place over who got to suck the last drop out of the bottle once he hand pushed it aside, his thirst sated? He could hardly wait to find out.

Grumpily, Neville thumped a bottle of the stuff in front of the BFFG. It already had a paper cup perched atop its patented Supa-E-Z Undooo! lid. The very sight of it brought back to Neville countless hot, back-breaking nights spent wearily behind sundry counters as he tried to supplement the amount his government expected students to live on.

'Yawanfrieswidat?" he intoned automatically as he delivered the sugary goop.

Stephanie decided that Byron obviously wasn't going to answer her question, so went back to one of her original passtimes within the Bar.

"Anyone for a game of pool?"

Hello, My real name is Shahid. Playing this game for about 6 months now, but only joined the UN last week :p!!

SO this is where you boring UN delegates chill out. We are not too serious people after all :) :cheers:

"Oh, no, Shahid. We're not the boring ones. The boring ones wouldn't dare be seen in the Strangers' Bar."

Don't start me off again about thr boring brigade and their 'rules'.....

'Yawanfrieswidat?" he intoned automatically as he delivered the sugary goop.

BFFG stared at Neville, his mouth open and his eyes wide. "You can get those here!?!" he asked, stunned.

Hi Enn, Bahgum :)! Hope to stick around here more!

"Well, Byrons, I'm curious," Stephanie said, approaching the card table. "What happens to the Hibernian succession now?"
Well now its just a single Byron again.... Nothing!
OOC. Apologies! I missed this post!

Back IC.Stephanie decided that Byron obviously wasn't going to answer her question, so went back to one of her original passtimes within the Bar.

"Anyone for a game of pool?"
I am afraid i have to decline the game of pool in favour of.... Dinner and the Opera? Pick you up at eight? :D

Past UN Resolution proposers, How was your experience when you proposed some thing for the first time.

I wrote a draft proposal to repeal a past resolution today. I am really excited, but at the same time apprehensive about the lack of response so far.

Guess Newbies has to learn things the hard way huh!! :headbang:

An ancient maxim related to the Drunken Master ritual goes, "Last to start, first to finish." This held true for the Nuncio of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii, who as the ritual leader was the last to begin drinking the ceremonial sake that would bring the assembled otaku into communion with the Manifestation over the end of the bar. His eyes were the first to flutter open as he slumped on the chair alongside his brothers.

"ennnnnnnnngh....." he groaned to himself, as the yowling of a thousand Sanrio kittens echoed through his skull. The Discipline of Holy Hangover had begun.

**knowledge** :d

*Adaine message had been about Avarhierrim coming 30th in the region. feeling this was a cause for celebration, he decided to start a conversation- a first. His eyes landed on a unusually short and broad elf.*

"Hello something wrong?"

"Uh oh, Neville. The Otaku are in trouble. I don't suppose you could make some prayers to the Oh God of Hangovers, could you?" BFFG asked the bartender.

"The prayers of the ungodly are less than the dust in the wind -- and I qualified as ungodly years ago," Neville responded. "I could offer them my personal hangover cure; it's so effective I call it Hangover Repeal. But I fear it might be blasphemous for the otaku to take it. Theirs is a stern faith."

The pair passed a few seconds in silent contemplation of philosophical absolutes. This sort of thing is supposed to happen in bars, and the Strangers Bar had a licence to preserve.

However, Neville had a reputation to preserve, as well. Snapping himself out of his abstraction, he nipped into the back room and, at a speed that would have delighted his old Team Leader, returned 1minute 27.2seconds later with a cardboard carton of crispy cholesterol.

"Thankyousirhaveaniceday," he said, smiling falsely at the BFFG and wondering, for a brief, tormented instant, if he would beat Violet Bracket for Employee of the Month.

Fortunately, the plight of the new delegate from Jusma Kallailie recalled him to his present-day duties.

"Don't worry about it," he soothed. "They've got themselves all of a tizz about the 40th floor at the moment. But they'll soon be back to rip your grammar, your sanity and your political and personal life to shreds, reducing you and all you hold dear to torn and quivering little lumps of bloody flesh scattered about the central arena. Nothing ever really diverts the NS UN when a matter of principle is involved."

He paused, noting the tiniest shade of what might be uneasiness cross the newcomer's face.

"Your repeal does involve a matter of principle, I hope?"

Past UN Resolution proposers, How was your experience when you proposed some thing for the first time.

I wrote a draft proposal to repeal a past resolution today. I am really excited, but at the same time apprehensive about the lack of response so far.

Guess Newbies has to learn things the hard way huh!! :headbang:
Prince Byron approached the member and supping thoughtfully from his pint of Guinness, He paused to speak.
"In My experience, getting a proposal to quorum and then passed is possibly one of the most difficult things a Member of the UN can achieve. first your proposal had better be a popular one or you will have your work cut out. Also your networking skills must be supreme as in order to achieve said quorum you must telegram over 500 delegates with your proposal. And then theres the forum, With various Delegates and members waiting to give an elitest assassination of both your proposal and charachter, Sure you may as well stay in bed or sit here at the bar and have a jar."
Byron looked to Neville, "A pint of Plain for our caught in the headlamps looking friend here and sure feck it, One for every one in the bar!"

Prince Byron approached the member and supping thoughtfully from his pint of Guinness, He paused to speak.
"In My experience, getting a proposal to quorum and then passed is possibly one of the most difficult things a Member of the UN can achieve. first your proposal had better be a popular one or you will have your work cut out. Also your networking skills must be supreme as in order to achieve said quorum you must telegram over 500 delegates with your proposal. And then theres the forum, With various Delegates and members waiting to give an elitest assassination of both your proposal and charachter, Sure you may as well stay in bed or sit here at the bar and have a jar."
Byron looked to Neville, "A pint of Plain for our caught in the headlamps looking friend here and sure feck it, One for every one in the bar!"


Thanks for sharing your experience. I am going to propose one tomorrow. *bites nails*

Let's see how it works out. :)



BUT 500 Delegates!!! EEEeeekkk!! Oh well, no pain no gain!!
I know some who will support for sure. But that's just about 10 delegates. I'll need 125 more.


(I am new here. Are we supposed to role play in here as well?)

This is a sad day for Communists my friends.
Such a proposal of the Sex Ed policy is a destructive, mind altering thing for our children to have to listen to. For shame.

I pray my children do not have to listen to anymore of such reasoning by blind and money hungry capitalists.

Ill have a Vodka. extra Vod.

Hmm, well, time for me to poke my head around the door, I suspect. Greetings to all from Moltan Bausch, Gruenberger Ambassador to the UN, and his diplomatic team. Are there rules on smoking in here?

Dear The New Communist,

Sex is fun. And to know what to do and how to do, makes it all the more fun. But I do not recollect the resolution having an age factor at which sex education is to be done. ;)

But please do not delay it too much in your nation :)

Dear The New Communist,

Sex is fun. And to know what to do and how to do, makes it all the more fun. But I do not recollect the resolution having an age factor at which sex education is to be done. ;)

But please do not delay it too much in your nation :)

Do not worry. We stand by our word proud and true if the UN proposes that children learn about sex... than so be it. Our children will learn about sex. There is an age factor however.. everything before the age of 18. Considering the relative age of masterbation experimenting starts at 10, I suspect that we must at least begin training our children in this by the age of 8 or 9.

It is sad indeed.

Ill have another vodka...

(I am new here. Are we supposed to role play in here as well?)

(OOC): Yes. No probs if your character sounds off about a resolution, but detailed debate should be kept for the floor of the UN. Here, the accepted forms of debate are:
buy a round for everyone, including the staff, in the hope that this will sway their votes. It won't, but the staff appreciates it.
begin seducing the opposing delegate(s), but keep any developments off-stage (G-rated audience).
thump the opposing delegate and continue thumping until you win, he/she wins, somebody bangs your heads together to stop you, the rest of the bar joins in or Neville turns on the sprinklers (see rating, above).
agree to disagree and buy your opponent a drink.
retire to one of the tables at the back and write an impassioned letter to your political masters or have an equally impassioned conversation on your mobile. But remember that postal charges here are particularly high and mobile signals are particularly weak.
get abysmally drunk and maunder on about what a nishe l'i' rezholushn you've got.


Other points to remember:

If you have been doing any of the above and Stephanie of Enn invites you to play pool, go with her or sneak out the back way. Resistance is futile.

Fatalities, assassinations, etc, are not permitted and will be reversed should they occur.

Should anyone disregard basic courtesies, the customers generally ensure that very little of the offender is left for anyone else to deal with.

Nation size and age don't matter unless you RP that they do.

Above all, YOU WILL RELAX! NOW! THIS MINUTE! CALL THAT RELAXATION, LADDIE, I'VE SEEN BETTER RELAXATION AT A PASSING OUT PARADE ...

"The prayers of the ungodly are less than the dust in the wind -- and I qualified as ungodly years ago," Neville responded. "I could offer them my personal hangover cure; it's so effective I call it Hangover Repeal. But I fear it might be blasphemous for the otaku to take it. Theirs is a stern faith."

The UN Nuncio of the Eternal Kawaii staggered to his feet, clutching his head and groaning. Overhearing Neville and BFFG discussing hangover cures, he brushed the wool off of his tongue and croaked, "no...no cures. It's all part...of the ritual. To learn through both freedom from the flesh, and the joys therein. And through the pain flesh brings when the illusion of freedom ends. Now...forgive me for intruding. I must meditate further."

The otaku slumped back into his chair. The Happiness Police captain shrugged, and said to the bartender, "We can give them some water--nothing against that in the ritual."

The outrageously drunk dictator of The Great Nude swaggered into the bar.

“A ROUND ON MEEee..” She squealed before falling face down on the floor.

Do not worry. We stand by our word proud and true if the UN proposes that children learn about sex... than so be it. Our children will learn about sex. There is an age factor however.. everything before the age of 18. Considering the relative age of masterbation experimenting starts at 10, I suspect that we must at least begin training our children in this by the age of 8 or 9.

It is sad indeed.

Ill have another vodka...

"Please cheer up! Our Prime Minister has instructed the foreign affairs minister to send you some of the finest Russian Vodka in stock. We hope that you'll cheer up soon. Happy ruler, happy nation."


Shahid, the representative of Jusma Kullailie, sees the rep from Ardchoille sitting on a table, guiding representatives of new UN member nations. He hunts down the cutest looking waitress and slips some money, "Please get my man some of your finest wine and make sure that you give him some extra attention".

Shahid: "Bartender, a glass of Orangade please!"
Bartender: "What? You don't want beer?"
Shahid: "I don't drink!!"

The outrageously drunk dictator of The Great Nude swaggered into the bar.

“A ROUND ON MEEee..” She squealed before falling face down on the floor.


"Hello, I am Shahid, rep of Jusma Kullailie. Here, let me help you up. Thank you for the drinks"

If you have been doing any of the above and Stephanie of Enn invites you to play pool, go with her or sneak out the back way. Resistance is futile.
"Why, Neville, I'm flattered. I think. But it was Hannah who was the real talent of the pool table, she once ripped an opponent's arm off. Granted, it was a zombie, but even so. Pool's just a nice pass-time for me, it's bridge and poker that I excel at."

"Why, Neville, I'm flattered. I think. But it was Hannah who was the real talent of the pool table, she once ripped an opponent's arm off. Granted, it was a zombie, but even so. Pool's just a nice pass-time for me, it's bridge and poker that I excel at."

"Greetings Stephanie, may I buy you a drink?"

Palixia'a delegate John Rotie entered...
"Alright, I'm gonna be a bartender, I know how to make a great bloody mary"

Palixia'a delegate John Rotie entered...
"Alright, I'm gonna be a bartender, I know how to make a great bloody mary"

I should imagine Neville would have opinions regarding that.

"Greetings Stephanie, may I buy you a drink?"
"Why thank you. I'll take my customary Ennish Shandy.
"I don't believe we've been introduced properly. Stephanie Fulton, Ennish Consul to the UN."