NationStates Jolt Archive

Sometimes Byron wondered why he bothered, some members were just unable to take away the friendly dolphin image for long enough to see sense.
Surely saving the members nations funds from being increased to the UN coffers was a good and decent thing, Especially when the new proposed UNCoESB gave the members every right to protect any species, No matter how fluffy and cuddly, from hunting, Never mind the protections afforded by the Bill in an extinction event.
"A stiff coffee neville before i re-enter the fray!" he requested solemnly from the overworked barman. "and have voilet bring it please, You look like you could do with a break"

Aram Koopman, Knootian ex-ambassador to the NSUN, walked into the Strangers Bar while being followed at some distance by sturdy UN security personell. His previous attempts at arson in the UN building had not been appreciated. Repeated attempts to revoke diplomatic immunity had been thwarted, and calls to replace him had gone ignored by the nos Círdan administration.

Leaning against the bar, he grinned at the barman.

"Dolphin-on-a-stick please", he asked. "And a Pink Bunny Cola - no... make that two PBC and a straw."

Moltan Bausch sighed. His UN legal team never stopped following him. He wished he could have just five minutes to talk to the other delegates, without having Lori or Sampad whispering furiously in his ear. But now, here in this bar, it seemed like he might be able to snatch a moment's peace.

"A bottle of the '12 Nangaf, please." He thought of that bloody debating chamber again. "And...you don't have any dolphin juice do you?"

A furtive figure in a red velvet robe and hood slipped in through the door. Thunder could be heard outside. ~~I swear that's the last time I go out on a date with a thunder god~~Ays thought.

Sidling up to the Bar he saw Byron, now on his own, and the Green tentacled thing nowhere to be found thankfully, although he did hear some disturbing noises from the shadowed booths.

Steering clear of the booths Ays made his way up to the bar. "Howdy Byron, let me get that coffee for you"

As the look of incomprehension flickered across Byron's tired face, Ays frowned, "it's me Ays, the diplomat of Thermidore?", then smiled to himself, "well you were rather intoxicated last time we met, coffee definitely suits you!. How's the battle going?"

A furtive figure in a red velvet robe and hood slipped in through the door. Thunder could be heard outside. ~~I swear that's the last time I go out on a date with a thunder god~~Ays thought.

Sidling up to the Bar he saw Byron, now on his own, and the Green tentacled thing nowhere to be found thankfully, although he did hear some disturbing noises from the shadowed booths.

Steering clear of the booths Ays made his way up to the bar. "Howdy Byron, let me get that coffee for you"

As the look of incomprehension flickered across Byron's tired face, Ays frowned, "it's me Ays, the diplomat of Thermidore?", then smiled to himself, "well you were rather intoxicated last time we met, coffee definitely suits you!. How's the battle going?"
Byron Thanked the Thermidorian and stirred the strong black coffee as he watched the lithe form of violet bracket walk back to the Bar with the style and grace of a Vermidian Pole dancer.
Turning to Ays he apologised for his previous multiplicity and intoxication.
"It appears my friend, The battle has not been aided by a certain comical Poll, However i am still sure now a gag is in place that the Members will see sense and repeal both 70 and 106 and also ratify the UNCoESB. Your replies have been most helpful in the General Assembly and for that you have my thanks."
With a nod of appreciation Byron supped from his cup and mellowed to the finest cup of coffee in the UN.

Neville's smile muscles were positively aching from all the grinning he'd done today; it was ages since he'd seen so many of the UN's old guard knocking back their chosen poisons. Must be something big on at HQ; the 40th floor job, perhaps?

But nostalgia wasn't getting the job done, and there was this dolphin-themed rush to contend with.

Neville wasn't sure exactly where he stood on the subject of eating an intelligent race, but, after all, if that's how the dolphins chose to treat their old, their maimed, their terminally ill and their criminals, well, who was he to stand in the way of international commerce? And the exports really helped their balance of payments.

Besides, it was the UN which employed him, and a Barlord's first duty was to his employer. Well, no, to his customer really, then to his employer. But also to himself, provided that ... ah, the hell with it, he'd revise the Three Laws again tonight. In the meantime, there was a bar to run.

Still, he could make his feelings plain by totally ignoring all he knew about the proper presentation of foodstuffs. He might plunk the dolphin-on-a-stick down on a paper plate, no contrasting vegetables, no clever little curly bits of green stuff or fancy tomatoes pretending to be roses, and the fat dripping down and congealed with never a serviette to mop it up.

Fortunately, remembering just in time that this was the Aram Koopman, Neville revised his plans a little. If Mr K had lots of fiddly cutlery and fantastic sauces to contend with, it might delay his inflammatory tendencies. Thoughtfully, he positioned the table directly under a sprinkler and waved away Violet's attempt to light the candles.

The dolphin juice, now. "Organic?" he asked, hoping for a negative. Organic dolphin juice was simply their blood, treated to keep it liquid; popular with vampiric nations, but no challenge to an artist.

Non-organic Dolphin Juice, however ... "You might be interested in this ... John, isn't it?" he suggested shyly to the delegate from Palixia. "It's much more fun than a bloody mary. See, I choose the strongest liquor available from any three of the nations voting in favour. Then I mix it with the same from any three of the nations voting against. But -- get this! -- the customer doesn't get to say which nations, what proportion they're mixed in or what size of container I use. So it's entirely up to me to balance what I know about the customer's capacity, physical composition, etc, with what I know about the various liquids involved ...I'm thinking of writing my PhD on it, actually."

He waited hopefully for Moltan Bausch to decide which Dolphin Juice/dolphin juice he desired. Much rode on the palate of the Gruenberg delegate.

Bob walked into the bar, "Hey Violet, can I get a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred?"

"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."

"There you go!, says Shahid, the representative of The Republic of Jusma Kullailie. "Nice to meet you and I would have loved a good chat. Unfortunately there is some supervision required at our postal department. So please excuse me"

Varia Yefremova repeated her trick of entering the Bar without having left. Or had she? The narrator elected to skirt over the issue of entrances and exits lest it gave them a migraine, instead pushing on with their train of RP thought before it eluded them completely and... damn.

Varia Yefremova entered the Bar, having never left, bizarr- GET ON WITH IT

Ahem.

Varia Yefremova entered the Bar, expression haggard, dark bags threatening to wrench her eyelids clean off her face.

"Hi, Nev. Pint of Sam Smith's Velvety Smooth Stout, please."

She waved listlessly at the milling delegates. She barely acknowledged the presence of so many of the 'old guard', so exhausted was she. Pint poured and handed to her by a concerned looking Neville, she finally detected the whiff of insanity emanating from the Knootian delegate and sloped over to him.

"You've got it lucky, you lovably psychotic bastard, you. Have you seen the proposal queue? Another three resolutions either already in queue or certain to be come the end of the week. Why now? Why my delegacy? What happened to the lull we were having?

"When do we get a bloody break?"

Bob recieved his drink and wanderd over to Varia. "You think that's bad, you've obviously never tried to debate with the delegation from Agnostic Deeishpeople. Believe me, a backlog of proposals to vote on is nothing compared to that. The experience reminds me of a saying I saw once, 'Argueing on the internet is like running in the Special Olympics, even if you win you're still retarded.'"

Brythain glared. The beleaguered Grand Duke made a small and deadly noise at the back of his throat. Representatives of House Menesthion and House Yevael had come to him on behalf of the Houses Beneath The Wave. The smaller delphines had entreated the elvish houses to aim for a repeal of the Dolphin Protection Act.

Why? Because the Act conferred equal protection upon their bane, the Orca. Because the Act was insulting to a noble race which knew full well how to defend themselves, but who also appreciated the value of self-sacrifice. Because the Act conferred protection upon an intelligent species who considered themselves the equals of elves and men. It was affirmative action of the worst and most demeaning kind.

"Off with you, and you," said Lord Brythain. The high elf and the silver elf paled (well, became yet paler). "We will do NO delphinic dealings this day. They are canny strategists to have hooked such willing fish as the both of you. And their aquatic subtlety is far beyond the capacity of humans to understand, which is why you should not aid these finny fellows in their campaign to rule the humans."

He waited for them to back out. Then he started on his fifth Guinness of the day.

Sir Albert quietly brought the strangers bar funnel and bicycle pump over to Lord Brynian. He didn't want to embarass the poor chap, stressed as he was already, but only five pints of Guinness so far today? Sir Albert shook his head and helped Lord Brynian to catch up with the rest of the bars inhabitants, two hours of the funnel and some vigouress guiness pumping and the job was done. Lord Brynian now had a respectable number on his bar tab and had clearly forgotten about his earlier troubles.

Sir Albert smiled and wandered off to the bar, satisfied by another unfortunate soul saved, and ordered a blue Bahgumian brandy for all, as was tradition whenever Sir Albert decided, remembered, or just wished to celebrate being able to actually walk in a line vaguely resembling straight.

Bob walked into the bar, "Hey Violet, can I get a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred?"
Sir Albert chuckled, after walking into the bar and bruising ones knee, attempting to buy a suave shaken, but unstirred, martini just didn't seem quite right.......

OOC - apologies for deleted post above - tried something, didn't work, meh.

Ays was dissappointed the pretty elves left, he always had a soft spot for twinks, so he surveyed the room and was surprised to have an odd blue liquor handed to him by Neville. Nodding and smiling at his unknown benefactor (Neville pointed out - it was the odd man who had just seconds ago been carrying around a bicycle pump), he knocked back the shot - surely nothing to an experienc.... "oh gods what the!!"

Turning a distinct shade of blue, Ays tugged at Neville, who expertly knowing the signs of a novice to the acquired taste that is the Bahgumian Blue Brandy, picked up a spittoon and thrust it at Ays just in time

"Oh gods, what the, I mean how the, Well it's just..."

Shaking his head Ays said "well I think I've disgraced myself enough for one night", and looked for the exit, wondering which way the pretty elves went...

OOC: Sorry - didn't see your reply there Ardchoille.

IC: Bausch stirred the sticky mixture thoughtfully. "Damn cheapskates, fobbing me off with this inorganic crap. Can't a guy get a decent...bah, forget it," he mumbled into the glass, and drained the rest. Still unsure of policy on these matters, he decided it would be best to slip out onto the balcony before lighting up. The cold air was refreshing. It would help him clear his mind.

A young, rather nervous looking man in the brown robes of an HOCEK acolyte ventured timidly in the bar, looking around for a familiar face in this sea of foreigners and their strange customs. Finally he spotted the Happiness Police captain and her cohort, all standing watch over the collection of hungover otaku slumped in their chairs, either meditating or praying or trying not to lose their lunch--it was hard to tell from the groanings and mutterings. The acolyte hurried over to the HP captain and handed her a rolled sheet of paper.

The HP captain looked over the missive, and frowned. "You're joking, right? All this has been going on while the Nuncio was busy here?"

The acolyte nodded nervously. "Yes, miss. We really could use his presence back in the debate hall. It's been as much as the Deputy can do to hold on."

The HP captain glanced down at the Nuncio and the other priests, who were looking about as green as a 4th degree otaku's robes. Why can't the Conclave of Friendship get its act together? she thought, not for the first time. It's not my business to decide their schedules, or interfere with their rituals. Finally she said, "I'm sorry, but the Nuncio is dealing with important ritual matters." That ought to take the heat off. "You'll have to make do until he's finished here."

Somewhat miffed at Bausch's cavalier treatment of his masterpiece, Neville searched his conscience for enlightenment on how he might have offended.

His conscience obligingly supplied a catalogue of sins -- 2516 and counting -- causing Neville to snort disgustedly. Not 'offences' in general, 'offence' in particular, he chided.

Fortunately, Memory, stimulated by the competition with Conscience, supplied the answer: someone had asked a while back if smoking was permitted in the Bar.

"Of course, of course!" Neville said jovially, causing 18 different misunderstandings among drinkers who thought the Barlord was agreeing with their latest remark.

Glowing green "Smoking" signs appeared at various spots around the room, causing still further misunderstandings (37, at a rough count).

"'S this a disco?" muttered one superannuated delegate, hauling herself to her feet and doing the Frug, a dance apparently very popular in aged care centres, to music only she could hear. Other drinkers automatically reached to release non-existent seatbelts, causing the descent of several pairs of pants, to much applause.

But several delegates, less light-hearted, turned frowningly towards the bar. How could they relax, as was their obligation under the Bar's charter, if their lungs were being assaulted?

"Relax!" Neville waved, and turned on yet another machine. The more experienced delegates took firm hold of their drinks with one hand and their seats with the other, remembering longingly the days when they used to be consulted before Neville was allowed to so much as glimpse an Acme Enterprises catalogue.

But this was not an Acme product. It had been pushed on Neville during an affectionate dialogue by a companion who greatly admired the new road a group of Ardchoillean witches were taking. Though using physical technology, they were producing machines which ran by the Wiccan Rede: "An thou hurt none, do what thou wilt."

Thus this new gadget (currently known as the Serendipity, after its inventor) allowed smokers to do this very small portion of what they wished, while harming none, not even themselves.

Tough luck if their smoking was a symbol of a death-wish. They weren't going to get their way in the Strangers' Bar. Smoke, yes; die, no.

An indescribable, though pleasant, scent pervaded the Bar. It was a bit like new-mown hay, but that caused allergies for some. To them it was a bit like patchouli. But that, to others, evoked earlier times best forgotten. So to them it was lavender. But lavender, for many, recalled stuffy old grandmothers constantly criticising. So to them it was lemon. Yet lemon made a few think of public toilet disinfectants. So to them it was roasted garlic. But roasted garlic ... So to them it was ... (continue sequence as required.)

Timothy walked through the bar's doors and walked over to Bob, "Mr. Flibble, we have a problem."

"What is it Schmitty, and it better be damn good for you to be interrupting me now."

"I just thought you might like to know that the nation's gone."

"Huh?"

"The nation's gone."

"What nation?"

"Ours."

"What do you mean gone?"

"I don't really know what happened but I can't talk to anyone back home."

"Well there's only one thing to do in a situtation like this, have another drink. Barkeep, I'd like another one over here please, and what do you want Schmitty."

"Me, Sir? I don't drink."

"Oh, good, means there'll be more alcohol for the rest of us."

Bausch shuffle back, now seeing the big - embarrassingly big - smoking signs.

"All this mayhem," he muttered, as swicthblades were sprung in the battle for the chair of the 0ian delegate. "Maybe this'll mean the repeal will pass after all."

Byron sat and decided to have a smoke. Lighting up and savouring the tobacco he looked around. every one was clearly concerned. Was this the result of a world wide terrorist attack on the NS communications?
Their were whole regions that had just disapeared with this problem.

Dont Panic ! he thought ot himself. Easy for everyone else to say! their proposal wasnt next up for ratification!

Another Guinness Neville and one for your self. Actually one for every member from nations that are OOC! Out OF Contact!

OOC> (Out Of Context) lets hope they sort this out soon! or else im in serious peril of doing some work! :D

The silver mists had risen in Vancing.

Lord Brythain drained his fourth gallon of Guinness, thanked Sir Albert teleconfusedly, and shunted the metabolic waste products off into the Abyss. Sober again, he pondered the political advantages and disadvantages of being out of contact with his peers in the Iashadarain Empire.

What was it his father had said before descending for the last time (a negative assumption if ever there was one)? "Do what thou wilt be the whole of the law." Easy for the old 'man' to have said so; he had never encountered the NSUN.

Brythain sighed. Then he noticed the almost bright-eyed and chipmunky hilarity that had begun to creep into the Bar. With no official work possible for the moment (excepting those envoys who believed in working even when out of contact - naughty, naughty!), Mercury and Venus had apparently replaced Mars and Saturn as the guiding influences in the sacred place of Strangers.

He tapped a Happy Policeman (was that what they should be called, he wondered distractedly) on the shoulder and offered him a Plutonium Doom. The Policeman looked at the writhing silver worms in their Cherenkov glow with disbelief.

The Grand Duke smiled almost pleasantly. "Dear chap, you can drink the disbelief if you like. Or soak in the glow if you will. Ask the Ardchoilleans for advice."

A colorful figure entered the Strangers' Bar.

He never wore tie or costume but always coloured clothes. Pazu-Lenny was curious about this famous pub and he has a little apprehension as it was the first time for him.

He observed carefully this funny place and all the nice people who were chattering. It was very different from his beloved lounge bars in Little Vagator Beach or Anjuna but he instantly cheered the ambiance. Maybe he was regretting the absence of music, but he didn't care after all, he felt happy. He went to the bar and ordered an Smirnoff Ice Lemon. He was sad about the collapse of the communication systems worldwide, but not to much, he was confident on the outcome.

A smarlty Dressed Gentleman wearing formal white Tie and his mostache waxed into twisted points and moncle in his eye around his shoudler ono to p of his dress is a sash of black bearing large Star upno it the star being the GRand Knights Cross of the Order of St Henrich of Rhursbourg wanders in , waving with his hand he speaks " I say Old Boy when Yuor ready could bring me a Bottle of Your finest claret an a selction of Cigars please Thanks Awfully Old Boy" Wandering over and sits down at large leather chiar in the corner of the the bar before pullnig out the lastest copy of Wisdens the NS edtion and begins to rest and read it

"Oh dear," Stephanie muttered, wandering over to Varia. "It seems Enn's disappeared altogether this time. Makes me wonder what I'm going to do around here."

Pazu-Lenny received the information on his 4G Korean mobile phone. He told it to Sophia, the waitress at the bar. And then, she made a loud announcement that all the world communication system had recovered.

For 5 minutes it was stunning moment, everybody congratulating and kissing with each other. Several people offered anonymously a general round of drinks. It was memorable.

Anonymous rounds? Who'd ever heard of such a thing?

"Violet, Neville, get everyone here an Ennish Shandy, my shout. Have some yourselves as well."

bugger the anonymous rounds, this anonymous kissing is even more confusing.....*puts down Pazu and gives the Enn a smacker on the chops*...only thought lips were for drinks....

*Adaie had but the elves on his assasination list as well as anyone who'd tried to kiss him. he anonomously ordered a round of drinks feeling happier*

The Happiness Police captain had just finished dealing with the young acolyte's crisis when she felt Lord Brythain's tap upon her shoulder. Whirling around and brandishing her ceremonial mallet out of instinct, she stopped short when she saw the nobleman holding a supiciously lethal-looking drink out to her and calling the (incidentially quite attractive) mini-skirted young lady, "my dear chap."

She stood there in shock for a moment, unsure whether to be offended or to burst out laughing. Finally she made a wry face and said, "Are you sure you haven't had one too many of those, sir?"

Meanwhile, it looked like the acolyte wouldn't have too long to wait. The Nuncio and his brother otaku were starting to come around; it appeared that the worst part of the Discipline of Holy Hangover had passed.

Lord Brythain, heir to the Dark Talon and connoisseur of the Abyssal Realms, took scant moments to realise that the scanty kilt of black leather was actually a miniskirt of the alluring kind. He hadn't realised they were all... female? Or were thy?

Firmly he said to the young lady(?) before him, "Yes, my dear chap, have one. I'm sure your profession allows for drinking on duty, else why come here, of all places? And do let your captain know she can have one too. On me."

Sir Albert smiled with approval. Things were going well.

Edward woke up to the sound of voices, at first unsure of his location. After rubbing the dust from his eyes, it became clear that he had fallen asleep in the Stranger's Bar. And judging by the amount of stiffness in his muscles and joints, sleeping on a barstool had not done his body any favors. Straightening up painfully, Edward made a failed attempt at an expansive gesture and mumbled, "Get me another Clearwater Imperial Brandy, would ya Neville?"

The Happiness Police captain held her mallet out at arm's length, handle parallel to the floor and face pointing downward. To a Kawaiian, it would be an unmistakeable gesture--the beginning of the "Words of Denunciation" rite, when an individual under arrest by the HP would have the nature of their offense proclaimed to the surrounding people. Of course, the rite was meaningless here on foreign soil, where the HP's writ extended only to the HOCEK delegation. Still, it was a habitual gesture, and one that made sense when dealing with a possibly drunk foreigner with equally possibly ecchi intent.

"We are here in our official capacity, sir," the captain said sternly, "protecting a delegation from our country conducting Church business." She smiled warmly then, and added, "Besides, we don't 'drink', as you put it, on duty or off. Thanks for the offer, though."

Lord Brythain, traveller of the Multiverse, was of course well-versed in the customs of many lands. Noting the mallet's movement, he made the three universal signs of abject but dignified apology, bringing an unexpected smile to the Happiness Captain's lips.

"Non ecce..." the Grand Duke began. "No echinoid intent... ah, blast, how does one convey that one is of purely honourable intent and would remain so even in the presence of alluringly miniskirted officers of the law who are of the opposite gender... whatever, we are sorry for your misapprehension."

Leonard Otterby strode with a slight swagger into the bar. He had returned from his holidays earlier that afternoon and was still feeling the glow of his tan. Joyfully, he sauntered towards the bar, eager for company and intellectualism, or, failing those two, inebriation.

He ordered with measured politenesss his favourite Guiness and recalled briefly his conversation with Byron, the last time he'd visited. Remarkable man, very knowlegeable when it came to Guiness. Fascinating company truly. And the delegate who'd introduced them, what had her name been? He felt a pang of remorse for his thoughtlessness and turned from the bar to face his neighbour.

"So, any thing interesting happen while i've been gone"?

Leonard Otterby strode with a slight swagger into the bar. He had returned from his holidays earlier that afternoon and was still feeling the glow of his tan. Joyfully, he sauntered towards the bar, eager for company and intellectualism, or, failing those two, inebriation.

He ordered with measured politenesss his favourite Guiness and recalled briefly his conversation with Byron, the last time he'd visited. Remarkable man, very knowlegeable when it came to Guiness. Fascinating company truly. And the delegate who'd introduced them, what had her name been? He felt a pang of remorse for his thoughtlessness and turned from the bar to face his neighbour.

"So, any thing interesting happen while i've been gone"?
"Well my friend! it seems i have been sober for a week or two, nothing more than coffee passing my lips and words to ease those whom would vote Nay at the current ratification. Unfortunately for some of the delegates of these here United nations to Happily vote to the affirmative for ones proposed resolution, i fear it would have to line their pockets with gold and there guts with rich food and drink.
Ah to be in an Ideal world where the people with the power give a damn. Oh, By the way i believe the lass of which you speak was Lady Stephanie of Enn, of which you will look long and hard to find a woman of more virtue." Byron turned to the bar with a wry smile on his face supped from his cup not once but twice and quipped "damned shame" before laughing heartilly.
"Can i get you a drink friend, I believe i have time for one more before i must return to the Assembly to rebutt the accusations of those whom never trust and thus cannot be trusted."

Ejecting a delegate here, upturning a table there, Neville and Violet Bracket were still clearing up after the Day the Worlds Disappeared.

It had been a chaotic but cheery time. With stranded delegates camping out in the bar, it had seemed at first that there might be a strain on the supplies of food, non-alcoholic drink, bedding and other necessities of life. But the magic delegates, freed of the annoying "no-magic" constraints that their nations usually imposed on diplomats abroad, soon tacked together a Wish-Fulfilment Spell that answered all such needs. Neville was at first surprised at the extraordinary luxury of the items acquired, but Dicey Riley soon explained that they were actually being "liberated" by mass teleportation from the Mod-Cave.

"From each according to his labour; to each according to his need," she said primly, leaving Neville to speculate on why magic nations seemed to prefer the extremes of the political spectrum.

As the hours wore on, they had not lacked for entertainment. Sophia and the girls and boys from Madame Zamunda's House of Wonders had dropped by, somehow setting up an inter-dimensional connection between the two establishments that preserved both the sanctity of the Bar and the reputation of the ... other place.

Meanwhile a tribe of wandering Generalites performed extracts from NationStates: The Musical (leading to considerable partisan debate about the portrayals of sundry minor gods) and the magic nations set up Interactive Television Programming. This proved extremely popular, as it allowed viewers to rewrite, take part in or combine any programs they chose. (Neville particularly liked the episode of South Park in which the entire cast of Everybody Loves Raymond died a lingering death at the teeth and fins of feral dolphins; Violet preferred seeing the family from Malcolm In The Middle forced to dine interminably with Friends on meals cooked by Will and Grace.)

But all good things must end, and the first ring of the first mobile was the death knell of the fun 'n' games. Still, the event had given much food for thought. For example, there was the surprise and pleasure many members had expressed at finding the Strangers' Bar oak-panelled dining-rooms open and still operating; and the indecent enthusiasm others had shown at the Gree-Z Take-Away that had been set up during the emergency for the sole convenience of the delegate from Fatus Maximus ... hmmm ...

Violet, noting the abstracted expression and the sketches on the notepad, surreptitiously warned the regulars to check the contents of their drinks; Neville was Thinking again.

"By Eck did ah see those 'appiness police lasses? 'ave a round of Bahgumian blue, fer t'ladies in Blue". Sir Albert then beckoned the happiness ladies to sit with him, for he has no fear of such, after all this was a man who gave the strategic orders to the dreaded Bahgumian Mother in Law regiments.
'see, it's like, this, here is a bar, Bahgum has loadsa money, you'se be nice lassies....ladeis.....laydees.....ladies, and as such, tha' needs to be treated t'best in all things, this bar 'as many, and Bahgum will be pleased...nay..'onoured to oblige, now get thes ere pint o'codswallops best bitter down tha necks, and tha'll see t'worlds a grand place really......."

and so yet another group of lost souls began their paths to redemption.....

Having spent enough time in the Bar now to identify a drink by its appearance Hodgelett interrupted Violet's path on her way back to the bar having taken Good ol' Sir Albert's order and gave her a new one.
"Fresh Blue Raspberry Juice, bit of 'Slush Puppy', another part white grape juice, pour a bit of red down the side for the glow effect and top it with some ordinary Grenadine. Don't forget the usual trimmings. Make sure he doesn't taste one of these and one of them doesn't get his. But you didn't need telling that." Realising she was probably doing what either Violet or Neville would probably have done anyway, she blushed, became a bit flustered and started to walk away. "Oh..um..and I'll take Sir Albert aside later and explain to him. Don't want to hurt him now. For one thing those Mother-in-Laws of his seem to be extremely alert to any offenses right now." She flashed a nervous grin then retreated back to her observation point hurridly.

Violet Bracket answered the ringing bar phone......
"Sure, Ok, No Problem."
She returned the handset to its cradle. She moved quickly to the coffee machine brewing an extra strong half pot, which she then topped up with cold water, 6 effervessant vitimin pills and a half glass of ennish shandy.
She walked over to the bar placing the large jug on it and placed her elbows on the counter top and her head in her hands.
The bar doors swung open and Byron sped passed the members, Delegates and their entourages within the bar reaching the point where Violet had placed the Jug. He lifted it and glugged the contents down being careful not to spill any on his suit. Seconds later he placed the jug back on the bar. after a moment to catch his breath he smiled and said to Violet, "Thanks hun, I have to get back to the General Assembly where it is required that I repeat myself constantly ad nauseum. Who would want to be a UN Resolution proposer?" He asked smiling. "You Apparently!" she replied with a wink and a reassuring smile.
Byron turned on his heels and moved with a pace back to the Assembly. Violet went back to work.

The UN Nuncio of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii pressed his temples, trying to squeeze the last bits of the hangover from his skull. His head was reasonably clear now, though his body clearly was in need of rest and non-alcoholic liquid replenishment. The young acolyte came up to him and pressed the missive in his palm. Unrolling it and reading, the Nuncio winced. Sometimes UN duties were more painful that the Discipline of Holy Hangover. "Yes...I see. Well, it looks like my presence is needed."

He glanced over at the Happiness Police detachment, who had en mass gathered near their Captain, brandishing their mallets at Sir Albert and Lord Brythain. Apparently the young ladies had concluded that the two somewhat drunken foreigners were intent on accosting their leader. Trouble looked imminent.

I knew this would happen, sooner or later, the Nuncio thought. The sooner we're out of here, the quicker the ladies can resolve this. Hopefully without a riot. He noded to his brother otaku, and said, "Come, let us go. We shall meet in one day from now, and from there decide what we have learned."

Leonard Otterby wandered into the bar, looking for his new found aquaintance Byron, or perhaps that delightful delegate from Inaia, who he'd taken a liking to during the seemingly interminable UNCoESB debate. With him was Arthur Holt, his secretary, a thin, rather humourless man whose only redeeming feature was his great love of Guinness.
Stumbling to the bar, Otterby accidentally bumped into a delegate, who regarded him and Holt coldly before moving on. Looking only briefly at the Happiness Police in the corner who, he thought, didn't look at all pleased at the moment.
Neville gave him his usual order and he sat round and then strode over to a delegate who he thought he recognised, surely that wasn't the U.N. Nuncio of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii? He'd been longing to meet the man, though he'd long forgotten the reason why. Tiptoing up he gently coughed his throat and introduced himself.

Lord Brythain looked positively Byronic as he glowered down from his great height upon the mallet-bearing police, most of who had misunderstood his position and the smile of their captain. Yet his voice remained firm and mellifluous as he intoned his inmost thought:

"Ladies, we are not drunk, and neither are we feeling uxorious tonight. We hope that none of you grow up to be Bahgumian mothers-in-law, but we fear that the mallet-brandishing might very well give way to rolling-pin brandishing, and where would we be?"

"All 'andicapped, wot?" chuckled Sir Albert.

The Grand Duke glared but failed to wither the evergreen knight.

Sir Albert watched the malleted happy bunch carefully, having made sure that all soft drinks in the bar included a mandatory triple shot of vodka, the happiness police should be becoming much happier anytime soon.

"now then lasses, these ere cocktail stirring mallets tha's brought, handy really, just what we needed" and with that Sir Albert pointed to the large cocktail bucket, currently containing a guiness and cream based fruit punch "give it a stir ladies, there's nice and 'elp yourselves to a drink", Sir Albert smiles and passes a tray of soft drinks to them.

"With a bit of training, a ferocity course and a couple of decades of bitter resentment, they'll make fine mother in Laws" says Sir Albert, to no-one in particular.

In the background, Sir Alberts MIL security detail watched carefully.......

Jude Takerath was the ruler of the Holy Empire of Cuation and was unwilling to let another gain power by being his diplomat for the UN. Handing control of minor issues to his brother, Jude had arrived in time to vote on the new bill. Dressed in a thin tall buisness suit with tie, well groomed, his dark hair combed down, his blue eyes constantly looking around, Jude now headed inside the bar.

Looking around, Jude made his way into a corner, unwilling to start a conversation, prefering to observe or let another start the talk.

An exasperated Leonard Otterby, having failed to attract the attention of the UN Nuncio of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii, was now reduced to sitting at the bar downing Guinness after Guinness without feeling any better whatsoever. Holt was no company either, as he seemed to regard dry discussions on sugarbeet tariffs and the cultivation of moonflowers as riveting matters. Otterby talked gamely, but had to constantly resist the urge to hit him, yelling, "YES I KNOW THE IMPLICATIONS FOR OUR ECONOMY, BUT PLEASE SHUT UP!"

Finally, Holt quietened down for long enough for him to spot a tall individual in a neat suit, utterly different from Otterby's own hairy brown suit, with crimson waistcoat, bleached white shirt and dull green tie. The young man still had black hair and piercing blue eyes; he looked regal and detached. Otterby decided to talk to him, as the young man seemed to be keeping to himself and his drink, which Otterby wished he could do instead of having to listen to Anthony Holts droning.

"So", Otterby began, "Who would you be then?"

The Happiness Police captain glared at Sir Albert, having seen through the nobleman's rather obvious attempt at spiking the rounds of drinks her detachment had ordered. Keeping even a small measure of order in this chaotic place was thirsty work, and fending off drunken advances didn't help. Seeing the otaku assemble to leave, she said, "Never mind the drinks, girls, we have to escort our brothers back to the Nunciate. And away", she added, gesturing at Sir Albert with her mallet, "from these ecchi."

As the crowd of Kawaiians prepared to depart, the Nuncio found himself being addressed by the somewhat distraught-looking Otterby, who seemed desparate to make his acquaintance for some reason. Welcoming the diversion (much to the young acolyte's dismay), he gestured to his fellow otaku to carry on while he attended to the man's questions.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, breathing a sigh of relief as the rather indignant Happiness Police filed out after the otaku.

A befuddled Albert sadly watched the happiness ladies spot the drinking ploy...he knew better really, it only passed unnoticed when he was sober, but that was 15 years ago and that had been an accident.

The doors of the UN strangers Bar burst open and the Jubilant Delegation of the Region of the Realm of Hibernia flowed in, led by their champion, Prince esheram Byron. A beaming Byron approached the Bar and called out to Neville, "Your best champaign Neville! we are celebrating the passing of the UNCoESB and were gonna do it in style, the cost be damned!" Then looking momentarilly pensive he turned back with a big grin adding " and tonight let the All the members drinks be put on my tab!" :D

Otterby, having failed to attract the attention of the young gentleman sitting next to him at the bar, looked around upon hearing Venerable Libertarian's words. Holt too looked up briefly, pausing from his prolonged dissertion on the difficulties of National Liberal Party economic adjustment theory being put into practice.

"God," he thought, "that's a bit good".

He turned round and called out at the top of his voice, trying to be heard above all others at the bar who had suddenly become as excited as if an electrode had been inserted into their stools.

"Pint of your finest Brown Ale, please Neville", he called. "So", he thought, "the resolution passed". He reflected on his small role in the debate and how nervous he had felt as he had cast his ballot. A warm feeling came over him and he smiled suddenly.

"Congratulations", he called out to Venerable Libertarians, "splendid stuff, jolly good."

"Yes it was rather inspired policy initiative," mused Holt beside him and began rambling again.

Neville set up the tab a little unhappily; he hoped Byron's generosity would not be his downfall. These young nobles, always the same; they think the estates will just keep on producing and producing, no need to go back home and make sure the bailiff isn't grinding the faces of the poor ... You're just jealous, sniped his conscience. Let him have his fun, his resolution's just passed!

"Shaddup, killjoy!" responded Neville, with unconscious irony, but without much heat; he had just noticed Hodgelett edging through the crowd. She seemed to be aiming for Sir Albert. Great! Now, if he could get those two together, and possibly draw the Grand Duke into the conversation, he'd have just the right group for the advice he needed.

Neville's head filled again with the vision he had had during the vanished-worlds emergency: the dining rooms of the Strangers' Bar filled to discreet capacity with the gourmets of the galaxy; the soft light glowing on subtle silks and highlighting hard-won, carelessly-worn decorations; the glitter of silver cutlery and fine crystal against spotless napery ...

The occasional demand for black pudding, said his conscience, still narked.

Superb black pudding, wif chips, responded Neville, haughtily, and went to seek out his advisory panel.

Otterby had alas found the young man asleep, the journey had been tiring and in sleep, Jude could collect his thoughts better. Or at least that is what Jude felt. The young man was woken by the "drinks on my tab."

Jude smiled as he pondered getting another drink but decided instead to fallback asleep, it was comfy here

*Adaine was enjoying an expensive Avarhierrim aloholic drink from Lord Byron, celebrating his nation coming 25th in the region. not even being knocked over by a newcomer could darken his mood*

*strides into the room*

As Lord Johannes Asterkrovicus, Un Ambassador for Australiensius, I demand a fine batch of wine.

*snaps fingers*

Come, waiter! Bring me the 1965 Vintage!

Stephanie suddenly shook herself. She'd been standing stock still for several days again. Looking at her phone, she read several messages.

"Well, this is a pity. Enn's currently in election mode, so we won't be doing much voting. Loreni and Faren have yet to agree on anything more than the decor of the Triumviral silverware, so I can't see them making national decisions without a third party.
"Guess I'll just have to stay in here for a while. That won't be a problem, will it Neville?"

"By eck, a free beer session from Venerable Libertarians, grand". With, that Sir Albert embarked upon a particularly heavy drinking session, even by his own standards. It should be noted that the last time this happened the econonomy of a small continent was put back forty years........

Sir Nasciens d'Hermitage was disgusted and tired, "Mindless, selfish..."

He muttered incoherently under his breath, took off his hat, straightened his regional delegate's shoulder sash, then paused to look around.

"What am I doing here?" he questioned himself, "I don't even drink!"

Then he realized why he had come. He sought sane companionship in a world of half-literate, churlish delegates and ambassadors from countries with leaders so unenlightened Attila the Hun seemed like a bodhisattva in comparison.

Then he reconsidered. No, he had been harsh. Attila deserved credit for organizing the roving tribes of central Europe. For at least a short while they had made an empire to rival Rome's.

But how had so many of these modern 'statemen' gotten their nations to such levels of success? It was an utter mystery to him. Just before coming here, he had debate with an ambassador from a country whose form of currency was a plastic spoon.

With a dismissive sigh and a pinch of the bridge of his nose, he glimpsed around, wondering what sort of intelligent conversation someone might strike up.

A sudden raucous laugh from a table nearby, and a slurred drinking song nearly caused him to turn on his heel and leave immediately. It was Prince Byron and the Hibernians with him. Some of them were three sheets to the wind.

"Ah," he relented internally, "they deserve to celebrate. In fact, I should go thank them." The resolution they were raising toasts to, the UNCoESB, had meant quite a bit to the small nation of Listeneisse.

With a reserved smile, he approached their table and introduced himself, "Your Highness, if I might be so bold as to introduce myself. Sir Nasciens d'Hermitage, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Listeneisse, Delegate of the Warzone of the Defenders. It is my honor and pleasure to meet you."

Inwardly, immediately, he rued his formality. He could see some of the people gathered around wondering who the stiff was.

Still, a prince is a prince. The king would approve of this more solemn tact.

He waited to be ignored or recognized.

Otterby squinted through his drunken haze and spotted Sir Nasciens d'Hermitage, Ambassador of the Kingdom of Listeneisse standing somewhat forlornly in the middle of the room. Deciding to bring Holt along (he'd softened in his opinion of him after 7 pints) he stumbled over and introduced himself, perhapas a little too eagerly.

"Leond Otterbuy, ambassaduh for the Republi (hic) of Compadria, pleasure to meet you, lovely weather eh?"

He smiled cheerfully, waiting for a response.

For a moment, Sir Nasciens debated ignoring his drunken peer entirely. He was, after all, interrupting a formal introduction to a royal prince.

"Leond," he said his first name was? "Otterbuy," he slurred, for his surname. "The Lion Ought to Buy," mentally he drafted an extemporaneous mnemonic.

Is this how he typically introduced himself? Not 'Duke' or 'Marquis.' Not even 'Lord' for a peer of his realm or 'Sir,' to indicate he had been knighted. A commoner. With all-too-common manners, he supposed.

Yet His Majesty had did not send him here without good reason. Rather than get angry, he softened.

With a mild smile, he greeted the man, and searched his mind for how he knew this man professionally. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Otter--"

Like a machine at last turning on its carefully milled parts, something clicked in the clockworks of his mind.

He blinked.

"Oh! The delegate from the region of NationStates," Nasciens asked, "You're from Compadria, eh wot?"

A liberal republic, he barely remembered from his dossier. With the endorsement of 40 UN member states. NationStates was a huge region. Hundreds of members. Billions of souls, he reminded himself.

Keeping half-an-eye to see if the prince responded to his introduction yet, he extended his hand to Mr. Otterby to shake.

Otterby took his hand and shook it vigourously. He noted that Sir Naciens had a very firm grip, one so firm that he found himself awakened from his semi-intoxicated state, into the clutches of sobriety.

"A pleasure to meet you sir", he warbled, "I have heard many good things about your country, especially its wonderful coastline. Oh, and I greatly appreciate your support in helping me try to stop the repeal of the "Ban Chemical Weapons Resolution". It is so good to have someone helping me fight the good fight".

"Calm down", he told himself, "you'll scare him".

Holt stood drunkely upright and introduced himself too.

"Anthony Holt, Sir Naciens, a pleasure to make your acquaintance".

Noticing the slightly dazed look on Sir Naciens face, Otterby hastily decided to try and put him at ease.

"A drink Sir Naciens", he cried, "come, I'll buy one for you, don't worry about the cost, I'm not a mean man".

And with that he led the still bemused looking Sir Naciens to the Bar and Nevilles happy face.

"A drink, eh?" Nasciens curled his lip in a smile crafted with great practice and tolerance, knowing his inner vows, yet accepting the hospitality of the stranger, "Yes, I'd be glad to. Quite. A pint of fine local poison, if you would."

Not that he had any intent of drinking it. He didn't even drink soft drinks, coffee or tea. He remembered his yonger days, though, when he did live a less sober life. In memory of his youth, and his folly, he accepted a hearty, wheaty glass.

He smiled at Neville and considered the merriment of the place, in some places genuine, and others desparate to hide the painful truths and shadows of the heart. Perhaps one day, he'd get to hear Neville's own story.

He turned back to his new acquaintances.

"Mr. Holt, I hear you now live quite an upstanding life," the knight of Listeneisse backhandedly complimented the swaying man, referring to his uncanny capacity to even rise from a prone position given his current blood alcohol content level. By hint of his breath, d'Hermitage was sure his body chemistry could probably be legally ruled as an alternative fuel source.

Moltan quaffed deeply. He liked quaffing. It unnerved people. The beer was excellent - much better than the sloppy mush they churned out in Gruenberg. He looked around: crowded again. Slipping a cigarette from his thin silver case, he trundled up to the bar, and lit it, mouthing "another pint".

"An upstanding life indeed sir", Holt burbled back, "I have been in the service of the Compadrian Republic for the last 12 years, since I graduated from the Tarkan Imperial University. I majored in statistics and mathmatics, so naturally, after finishing my life's study, I volunteered to serve my nation in the Office of National Production."

Otterby regarded his partner with vague amusement and spoke up.

"He has been voted statistician of the month, 14 times in the last 5 years", he trilled proudly, "he's like a son to me now, a very, very clever son".

He relapsed into silence.

Holt continued his dissertion on his life of outstanding academic brilliance, ignoring Otterby's frequent rolling of his eyes.

"I was always meant for great things", Holt rambled, "from an early age, my instructors always stated that my gifts for study were unmatched throughout Compadria."

He took a deep swig.

"But my dear fellow, pray tell us about your accomplishments in life, we'd be fascinated to hear of your service in the Royal Court".

And, with a pleasant smile resting on his visage, he waited to hear Sir Naciens tale.

The UN Nuncio of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii frowned and hmmed at the apparently rather sloshed Otterby who had been wandering from person to person, trying to strike up a conversation. Typical foreigner, he thought to himself, no sense of focus or commitment.

He shook his head and chided himself for the somewhat uncharitable thought, just as Lord Byron made his announcement of the passage of the UNCoESB.
Walking over to the Hibernians, he bowed respectfully to Lord Byron and said, "Congratulations on your success, sir. I found out that while I was busy attending to, um, spiritual matters here, the Conclave of Friendship authorized my deputy to vote in favor of your resolution. A bit of encouraging news considering the pains we've been going through in the debate hall lately."

Byron's Jubilance was infective and he was to coin a phrase, "A happy camper". Over the last few weeks with the assistance of the Yeldan UN Mission the delegacy had been extremely proactive in seeking support for the new bill, and both the delegacy members and Byron were delighted to have this brief interlude.
Turning to Sir Nasciens d'Hermitage, Byron extended his hand and shook the ambassadors hand in a friendly non formal way. Byron believed there was a time and a place for formality namly funerals and when conveying offers of support to disaster struck nations, but over the years he had found more could be accomplished with a friendly handshake followed by an informal chat. Nasciens, it is my pleasure to make your aquaintance and im looking forward to a long relationship between our delegations. Would you like to join us while we celebrate? Byron asked with a friendly smile.
Moving to Leonard and Holt, Shaking hands as he moved extending the invitation to join the party. "Gentlemen i see your drinks need refreshing" he remarked and He beconed to Violet to keep the drinks flowing.
Byron then turned to the Nuncio, Aware of the happiness police presence. "Good Nuncio. Perhaps you would be so good as to lead our prayer of thanks giving for our success?" Handing him a pint of Guinness.
When all the drinks had been filled Byron approached Neville who was looking a little concerned with the mounting bill. "Neville, His Majesty the King has asked we forward you this check for a Million Hibernian Dollars, which should see our account stays in the black for a while. AlsoHe has asked me to Present you with the following commendation for services to the Realm and the UN. He motioned to his personal assistant, Sofie Gray, one of the newest members of the delegacy sent by the king with the hope she would get Prince Byrons attention. The fact that Byron had not yet produced an Heir was always weighing heavily on King James mind. Sophie approached the bar and gave Violet a smug smile and bowing to Neville she opened a Box containing a Medal, The Hibernian Medal for Honourable service of a Foreign Diplomat. Byron added, "that comes with a check for one hundred thousand Hiber with which you may do as you please." Byron Shook Nevilles hand and rejoined the party, followed closely by the demure, Sophie Gray.

Otterby was in rapture, allowing himself to drift along at a steady pace, feeling the good vibes from his fellow partying delegates and U.N. members wash over him.

"Why Venerable Libertarians," he ventured, "I see you haven't introduced us to your new companion, the delightful lady who stands with you."

He bowed and Holt followed suit.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance madam, pray tell us, who would you be?"

Otterby was in rapture, allowing himself to drift along at a steady pace, feeling the good vibes from his fellow partying delegates and U.N. members wash over him.

"Why Venerable Libertarians," he ventured, "I see you haven't introduced us to your new companion, the delightful lady who stands with you."

He bowed and Holt followed suit.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance madam, pray tell us, who would you be?"
Sophie was delighted to have been noticed by the members of the bar. Surely Byron had to notice her. She looked to Byron who turned to the gentlemen from Compadria. Gentlemen. "May I introduce my New PA assigned to me By the king, I suspect to raise my productivity", He replied laughing. Byron knew exactly what the king was up to as he had expected one of the very efficient members of the governments accountancy corps and had been delighted when Sophie arrived handing him her credentials and her Orders from the Court of King James. Sophie smiled at Byrons light hearted remark. "Gentlemen I am Lady Sophia Grey daughter of Baron Grey of the Hibernian Kingdom of Venerable Libertarians, But my friends call me Sophie" she said noting Byrons informality and charm.

Sir Nasciens greeted the Prince as well as the rest of the delegation with him. As of yet he had not been introduced to the somewhat stiffly-polite Nuncio from Kawaii but smiled aside when he introduced himself as, "His Excellency, the Ambassador from the Kingdom of Listeneisse." The title still felt novel to his own ears.

With great curiosity he took note how the Prince apparently styled himself "Lord Byron," perhaps in homage to the romantic, or perhaps as a way to shuffle off his title as a man might kick off his shoes in a comfortable environment. So far he had eschewed the proper term for his royal rank, "Your Highness."

Waiting for the exchange of glances between the Lady and Mr. Otterbuy, the knight cordially greeted her. He took to remember her father's rank as a Baron.

Sir Nasciens methodically reflected on the list of proper forms of address and style for those of the aristocracy. She had been introduced simply as "Lady Sophia Grey." As a baron's daughter, if she had been married to a knight, she would be properly styled "the Honorable Lady." But she had not been. Perhaps she was married to a younger son of a Marquis or Duke? But no, she seemed unmarried. Especially with the light and easy glances she had cast upon both her own prince and Otterbuy alike.

As he thought, aside he engaged Mr. Holt in the conversation, "Fourteen times in five years? That's..." and here his mind failed to compute the proper percentage, which would be 23.33%, rounding to two digits. Instead, he deduced simply that fourteen was simply one less than fifteen, and that fifteen would have gone into sixty months quite nicely.

"Almost once a quarter, isn't it? Quite impressive!"

Lord Byron and Lady Grey were both certainly bon vivants. Perhaps Prince Loh would appreciate to make their acquaintance. He made note to see if he could introduce him the next time the Prince visited.

Belatedly responding to Mr. Otterbuy, he answered with a bit of an enigmatic smile, "I suppose you could say I spent much of my life as a 'Knight Errant' for His Majesty. I was one of His closest companions even before He was elevated to the throne. We were both fighter pilots in the same squadron. We would venture into the Perilous Forest National Park together on trips. 'Quests' we'd call them. Just a few of us, you see. That sort of encounter with the wild, hiking or horseback riding and camping under the stars, is sort of a national pastime. Of course, that was many years ago."

Smiling at his untasted beer, he remembered the younger glory days. Such memories always reminded him of the scenes of Prince Hal from Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part I. The King loved the Bard, and they both used to quote entire scenes to each other in sport of wit. Yet in actuality he failed to be a good Falstaff, or even Bardolph, because of his ever-temperant nature. His mind suggested Mr. Otterbuy to an imaginary cast he began to compile.

"When His Majesty decided to open our nation to international engagement," he meanwhile continued, "His gaze cast about for those He felt would represent His wishes to the global community. It was a great honor when he recalled me from my retirement to serve in this capacity. I truly hadn't expected it."

"Gosh", exclaimed an enraptured Otterby, "that is quite a fine list of accomplisments you have their. I myself have had a far more modest list of accomplishments to my name; I served in the navy upon leaving university, that was back in the days when we maintained a permanent armed services you see. And I was stationed just off the coast of your country actually, something about joint military exercises. I left when I was 28 and entered the diplomatic service as a translator. Then, through a series of promotions and a good acquaintance with Luris (our leader's title) Cromwell, an old navy friend."

He leaned back briefly and savoured his accomplishments.

"I was promoted to be a staff member with the U.N. delegation from my country. Then, one month ago, I was promoted to U.N. representative, completely out of the blue. It was really quite remarkable."

He dried his eyes and turned to Lady Gray.

"My lady", he swept a second bow, "I would be enchanted if you would permit me to learn of your many great accomplishments, as I'm sure a charming demoiselle such as yourself has to her credit."

Lady Gray smiled demurely and regaled him with long, fascinating life's tale.

A smile played upon Sir Nasciens' visage as he watched the irrepressible Mr. Otterbuy present himself, ruddy-cheeked and jovial, to the beautous Hibernian aide-de-camp of Lord Byron.

Inwardly, he refused to think of Lady Grey as Mistress Quickly. His mind rebelled. "No, she's far more a good Helena," he thought, recalling the character of All's Well that Ends Well, and description of her in Jameson's Characteristics of Women: "There never was, perhaps, a more beautiful picture of a woman's love, cherished in secret, not self-consuming in silent languishment -- not pining in thought -- not passive and 'desponding over its idol' -- but patient and hopeful, strong in its own intensity, and sustained by its own fond faith."

"Yes," he convinced himself, knowing truly very little about her at all, "she seems to strike me well for the part of Helena. Yet, what is the plot we have about us today?"

He meanwhile silently slipped his beer back on the bar, hoping it would be cleaned up without comment or notice.

Finally feeling himself at ease, and with a growing curiosity, he listened for the response of the high-born woman to the cordial, effusive representative of Compadria.

Otterby was listening in rapture to the beautiful, stylish, elegant, noble creature standing before him, named Lady Gray, but truly something other than mere lady. She was truly regal.

"Mr. Otterby," she extended her hand to him and he kissed it with a sort of passion he normally put into keeping the minutes at committee meetings. "I've heard much of your country over the last few months, I keep a keen interest in international affairs you see."

"I would have thought no less my lady," Otterby replied, "I sense your knowledge of our affairs is greater than you let on. Was it not you I saw in the public gallery earlier."

"Indeed, though not because of you Mr. Otterby!" she smiled and waved her hand to indicate this was not a personal slight. "I follow most major legislative issues at the U.N. closely. It's the clash of ideals and passions; I find it exhilerating, intoxicating even."

She paused and sipped her drink.

"Tell me about yourself Mr. Otterby, I'd love to know what your work as a diplomat involves."

Otterby recounted his life story, including the more savoury aspects of his navy service and promotion to the civil and diplomatic services. He then launched into a broad description of his work at the U.N.

"I arrange and work in committee meetings; speak at debates and participate in the passage of resolutions through my words and votes."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"I adore this place, it is really special coming here every day and knowing that every instance of my existence here is devoted to making history."

"You are a modest man Leonard," Lady Gray chimed in.

Otterby, who had almost swooned when she called him by his Christian name, recovered and smiled graciously.

"Why my Lady, I do but show off my accomplishments."

Anthony Holt stepped forwards.

"Mr. Otterby, I hate to deprive you of the Lady's company, yet we must return to the General Assembly. There's a debate on assault weapons in full flow and headquarters have asked you to give their position on the matter. I'll brief you on the way there."

Otterby sighed and turned to Lady Gray.

"My Lady, pardon us, but we must take your leave."

Lady Gray nodded and smiled at them as they left.

"Such an excitable man," she remarked to Sir Nasciens, "rather too much for my liking I rather think. What do you make of him?"

Sir Nasciens stepped a bit closer to Her Ladyship be heard over the din.

"He's a jovial sort," he answered, turning beside her to face the same general direction of the door. He was glad to see a bit of natural light flow through the open portal as the establishment's patrons streamed in and out.

"Aye, 'by Jove,' as they'd say."

Sir Nasciens folded his hands behind his back as he was wont to do, and rubbed his aching wrist hiddenly. He still wrote many of his letters with an ink pen, but he had never written so much as he had since being appointed first as UN Ambassador, and then quickly, much to his surprise, UN Regional Delegate.

Yes, his wrist ached ever since he had been forced by the Royal Ministry of Information to learn the computer.

His official correspondences all needed to be scanned in for them, OCR'ed, and then interpreted by a rather nice young girl who had to make sense of his flowing script, and rambling, meandering blend of technical and archaic language.

Yet more and more he realized that the only way he would ever communicate with some of these people was by email, forum postings, word processing and PDF files. Slowly but surely, he was being dragged into the intellectual and spiritual Wasteland he had been sent here to help contain. Plus, all this 'mousing' and typing made his aging wrist hurt.

Privately, he was beginning to call the RMI the "RSI."

Therefore, simply standing in the graceful presence of Lady Grey healed him in a way he could not openly express. Her eyes turned to him, and he basked in it fully while himself gazing at a patch of sunlight on the floor.

"Ebullient," he also noted, "in the best sense of the word. Much the same as Your Ladyship, if I might add."

Then, sensing that he had insufficiently clarified, and perhaps because he had likened the drunken diplomat to a high-born lady, he turned to her at last and mused, "A good man, indeed! Quite. Yet he may lack some of what we'd call in Listeneisse, 'Goodly tatches.'"

He smiled a tad.

Changing the subject to something that might strike a chord, he asked, "What is your homeland like, Your Ladyship? If I ever were to visit, what must I simply not pass by during my stay?"

Byron then turned to the Nuncio, Aware of the happiness police presence. "Good Nuncio. Perhaps you would be so good as to lead our prayer of thanks giving for our success?" Handing him a pint of Guinness.

The Nuncio hrrrmed silently as the Guiness was pressed into his hand. Thinking quickly, he said, "Many thanks, but I'm hardly in a state," tapping his head and wincing, "to be resuming the Drunken Master ritual again." With diplomatic grace he turned and offered the drink in turn to a nearby thirsty patron clamoring for Byron's generosity. Hopefully the Happiness Police captain wouldn't notice; it would be an awkward gesture to explain.

Smiling and turning back to Lord Byron, the Nuncio bowed once more and said, "It would be my honor, dear sir. May the Cute One prosper your nation and increase the wisdom of its leadership, that we may see more such enlightenment in the UN in days to come."

I'm bored so I'll just say this. I think communism is the greatest political theory out there. Too bad society is too immature to handle it. oh well.:sniper:

Lady Sophia Grey was relishing the wit and interaction with the men of nations and was dissapointed to see the Compadrians leave. She thought back to the excitement when The king had summoned her to the Royal court and explained her Appointment under the Realms Delegacy and Prince Byron, A man whom was viewed as a saint by the peoples of the Realm due to his closeness to the People.
She had been delighted to find the UN was everything she had hoped it to be and to escape the endless dull engagements arranged by her father, Baron Grey, No doubt to find a proper suitor for the fair Lady, had been a relief to her. The King of the realm, Now ageing, was indeed looking to promote his Nephew and sole surviving relative to a woman he could see would make a wonderful Queen and hopefully Mother to several Boys. She had however at her young age of twenty four, no intention of being married off, no matter how wonderful the Heir and Regent to the Realm May be.
She looked to Sir Nasciens when asked about her home. She lived in Grey Hall, A massive stately home where The Baron of Grey had lived for hundreds of years. Their lands were surrounded by vast expanses of Lush forrest and many small hamlets. She recalled to the Delegate her memoirs of growing up in such a place. She had a wonderfully happy childhood as she had the love and attention of a Mother who refused to have a governess to raise her children and she and her two brothers were thought to appreciate art, culture, and more importantly to ask why and not to be afraid to do so.

Byron was the reluctant Prince. He was born into vast wealth as his father was the Prince of the Hibernian Principality of Templar Crusaders, Brother of the King of the Hibernian Kingdom of venerable Libertarians. The Difference however between the attitudes of the nations was Huge. Byrons childhood was spartan. After birth he was placed in the care of Nannies and only ever met his parents at Social engagements. He was packed off to military school at 4 yrs old and basically that was his life untill he left the academy at 21 years of age to take up his Commishion as an Officer of the Templar Navy. He was given his first command at 24, which he had loved. His ship, the Templar Seal, A well armed and efficient Naval frigate which he affectionately called "the Old Tug" to his officer friends had been a tightly run operation and had a wonderful sense of comradeship aboard, mainly due to his approach to the men serving under him. Byron had risen through the ranks quickly and by 28 he was the first Lord of the admiralty with the command of the entire fleet of the combined forces of the Realm of Hibernia.
Then came what was termed by his peers the Belem Incident. He commanded the fleet to monitor the ongoing genocide of innocents in that nation and had wanted to Intervene throwing the entire weight of his forces into battle. The mandate called for no action and he had returned bitter and broken having watched and following orders to do nothing. A short time later he resigned as First lord of the admiralty.
The King had watched his broken Nephew and decided a new challenge was needed to get his moping nephew back in action. He called Byron in and made him accept the role of Chief Negotiator for the Realms Delegacy to the UN. "Stop being such a spoiled brat" The King had ordered handing Byron his Orders. The King loved Byron like the son he could never have and it pained him to see "The Boy" moping about. Byron had since come to love his role as the head of the Hibernian Delegacy and ran his crew as he had on "The Old Tug". A new sense of belief had filled him with hope and he relished the interactions with the members of other nations. Especially as he considered his post as a position where he could make a difference, Not just for the peoples of the Nations of the Realm, But the peoples of the NS World.

Byron Turned to the Nuncio, he bowed and respectfully accepted his reply and thanked him for his Blessing. Looking to his esteemed company he announced, "A meal has been reserved for the Hibernian Delegacy and we would be delighted if you would join us to sample Nevilles delightful menu at the realms expence." Sophie backed up her boss at this point. "Gentlemen" she said playfully, " I would love to hear more of your Nations and their histories. Please do Join us. I am sure it would be no trouble to Neville and his maid". She was all to aware of Violets affections for the Prince and his Regard for her and even though she was window shopping in the International Market she would not cut out the Home grown options just yet. Byron looked at her dissapointed she had said that as Voilet was in earshot. With that one comment Byron had been reminded that the King would Never accept a commoner as his bride and Queen.

Sir Nasciens simply listened to it all, and absorbed the drama that silently took place between the Hibernians.

With a brief glimpse at Violet and the prince, and thence from the prince to Lady Gray, he gained an instinctual and unspoken understanding of what was taking part about him. The hush that fell over all was especially telling.

He decided to intercede.

Turning to the prince, and considering he had forgotten his breakfast and his lunch dealing with his rapidly filling desk, he accepted the invitation to the meal, "It well may serve, a nursery to our gentry, who are sick for breathing and exploit."

He wondered if the man was a suitable Bertram. He wished to test it out, so audibly addressed the prince, "Frank nature, rather curious than in haste, hath well composed thee. I would be delighted to attend Your Highness."

"Shall we exeunt? Act I, Scene II, awaits" he smiled, and offered his arm to Lady Grey.

While he was their senior by many years, he was drawn by the novelty and wistfulness of such fair company.

Yet in his mind he recalled the warning of the Countess, of such "natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth; when oil and fire, too strong for reason's force, o'erbears it and burns on."

Someone would need to keep an eye on these two.

The Nuncio, for his part, still seemed a bit too detached and self-absorbed. Sir Nasciens also was quite sure that whatever benediction he had just recited was not from the Book of Common Prayer.

He still could not quite figure on what role the Nuncio quite served yet, but murmured to himself, "He did look far into the service of the time and was discipled of the bravest."

Seemed fitting. But not quite.

Sophie approached the bar and gave Violet a smug smile and bowing to Neville she opened a Box containing a Medal, The Hibernian Medal for Honourable service of a Foreign Diplomat. Byron added, "that comes with a check for one hundred thousand Hiber with which you may do as you please."

"I thank you, Byron, and I'll make sure the Bar's patrons have cause to thank you, too," Neville said smoothly. "It is always a pleasure to a professional to have his services recognised by his peers -- not that the Bar's reputation could have been achieved by one person alone, of course. The ambience we all enjoy is the result of constant willing effort by many devoted people, and it is on their behalf I accept your gift. It is not just a princely, but a kingly, gesture, Byron, and we all thank you."

Amid a puzzled smattering of applause, he performed, with grace and flair, the 'Bow of Homage to a Valued Patron', as specified by M. Fenestre in Etiquette 301 at Barlord University, while maintaining the eye contact that, M Fenestre explained, added to the bow the sub-clause 'While Keeping Them Firmly In Their Place'.

Formalities over (and breathing a fervent sigh of relief that none of the telepathic delegates were present), Neville served drinks mechanically while pondering this windfall. One worry down, because the fact that Hibernia was picking up the tab meant that Byron was not digging into his personal funds. One worry up, because, by the Code of the Barlord, Neville really should remit that $H100,000 personal cheque to his Alma Mater.

Aha! One worry down, because even the Chancellor would agree that he could justifiably use it to re-establish the dining rooms and employ a French chef ... or perhaps an Australian chef, they were usually readier to adjust to widely varying cuisines ... amazing how versatile tomato sauce was in the hands of a master ...

Oh, dear. One worry up, he thought, catching sight of Violet and instantly resolving to make sure she didn't have any opportunities to mix cocktails for Lady Sophia.

Varia Yefremova smirked at Sir Nasciens' Shakespearean references. Better hope she's not actually a Tamora, she thought, and returned to her cryptic crossword.

22 Across: "Failing to disrupt the indolence." (2,3,7)

Sir Nasciens noted the cynical glance from the stranger, maintaining his pleasant demeanor as he held the chair out for the lady.

For a moment he thought to do as he used to and was trained to do, making great ceremony of unfolding the napkin and placing it upon a lady's lap, then adjusting the chair as she pulled herself closer to the table. But those were the manners of a century ago. Or of stodgy old backwater feudal aristocracies, perhaps.

There were already many eyes upon the group. He was feeling a bit self conscious now.

Perhaps because of their eyes, or perhaps to simply maintain the traditions handed down to him, he reconsidered, and, to the lady's surprise, suddenly did a neat flick of the napkin, and draped it over her lap. Then, waiting for her to adjust herself, he did indeed neatly tuck her chair back to the table.

Convivially he mused, "That man should be at woman's command, and yet no hurt done!"

With a bit of a bow, he took his own seat at the table, opposite the lady and beside his host the prince.

Silently, he felt himself a bit of a fool, but a fool glad to have done what his heart led him to do. In silence he thought, "Though honesty be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will wear the surplice of humility over the black gown of a big heart."

He could barely stifle a laugh at thought of the Clown and Countess.

Next the lines of the Steward played in his head. And speaking of that, he cast his gaze about for the wait staff and menu.

Varia sighed at the noble's formal display. Would that he were leaving, in truth. She frowned and chid herself for her harsh thoughts. If only someone could help me with this buggering crossword.

a drifter entered the UN bar for the first time. He had traveled up and down rivers and lakes for so long that, that he was sure that he knew many things, (though he was never truly educated). This bar with its antique furniture an old world charm, seemed comfortable, sofisticated and completly alien, to him.

He is just an average man looking to learn what he can and share his thoughts, opinions and to get a good stiff drink. To fill his pallette.

Sir Nasciens wondered what was upsetting the woman at the nearby table. The look she gave him was usually the sort reserved for war criminals.

Turning to the Nuncio, he asked who she might be, and whether he knew of any reason she should be so distressed.

Deferring to his host, cognizant of the distress that might be introduced, yet hoping to see if perhaps companionship might assuage the distress of the lone woman working so dilligently on a crossword puzzle in a crowded noisy establishment, he wondered aloud, "Perhaps we should invite her over?"

The infrequently-used mobile phone of Sir Nasciens d'Hermitage chimed out the national anthem.

Fishing for the thing in his jacket pocket, he peeked at it leerily before flipping it open.

From the chime, and the caller's identity, it was official business.

It was the lady responsible for travel at the UN Embassy of Listeneisse informing him details on his flight out for the gala celebration of the new UNA-Listeneisse (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=442701) chapter house.

"That was quickly put together!" he commented as he put his mobile away. Fortunately he'd have sufficient time for his meal. His bags were already being packed for him by embassy staff.

Straightening his delegate's sash, he returned his attention to his present company and those beyond.

Jude had been sleeping soundly when his own mobile went off with an old classical peice from his own lands. Jude shot up and nearly banged his head against the table. Checking what messages he had, he muttered words of which this could be overheard "the man who sold me this phone..." "stupid brother" "torture" and "incomptent fool."

Pushing his old looking mobile phone into a bin, Jude sleepily looked around the bar.

Sir Nasciens gave the stranger a sympathetic look, and considered him somewhat like the Dormouse at the tea party. He wondered what other cryptic oddities he might speak before the Hibernians stuffed him in a tea pot.

Adaine was also at a lone table watching Sir Nasciens and Co. He had thought of joining Varia, but then remembered he was hopeless at crosswords. It was too late now, she would probably go over to Lord Byrons table. Adaine overhearing Lady Gray on Lord Byron's life story felt the twinges of guilt. He knew that the Mage Thrael (leader) of Avarhierrim had been behind the massarce.

Adaine mused over his own life. His childhood to the age of seven had been in his tribe, roaming around the woods and fields and ridding the beautiful white horses his nation was famous for. till the day he had to go to Bladvak- the school of Espionage, Assaination and Mercenries. He had excelled at Espionage and got the much coveted job of listening in to foreigners conversations in The Strangers Bar.

Naciens obliviously missed the attention of the stranger, his mind divided now between the Prince, the Lady, the Nuncio, the crossword puzzler, and the mobile-wielding mutterer.

Jude shook his head and now looked somewhat amused "Does kiling your brother for giving a bad phone count as murder, politcal assisnation or state excution? He better have a good escuse..."

Jude looked around to see what drinks looked good enough to order himself.

"There's this ..." suggested Neville, pushing a Bahgumian Blue Brandy towards the innocent Jude.

"Or this ..." he continued, pouring an Ennish Shandy.

"Or this," he concluded, providing a Findhornian Scrumpy.

"Or you could try all of them together," he added.

Neville was in a strange mood; the sort of contradictory mood that leads people to go spam forums, or blow up letterboxes, or steal lollies from cute little babies.

Fortunately, a trace of his normal kind and caring self remained on duty. He took the trouble to check if there was a doctor in the Bar. And he also poured some icy-cold milk and left a plate of cookies next to it.

Then he waited.

Jude was looking with intrest at the three drinks, contemplating his first cocktail but the milk and cookies threw him. Assuming they where for the kind man, Jude nodded "I'll try them all togther, I'm sure I shall enjoy it good sir. Might I inquire your name? I am Jude, the ruler of a small land called Cuation and it is a plesure to meet you."

today I will find out if I can hold my drink or some other lesson involving a headache thought the young man as he started to mix the drinks.

"I'm Neville Notthatone Chamberlain. I'm the Barlord."

As Neville leaned across the bar to shake the young man's hand, his conscience smote him. (Actually, it hammered him with a meataxe. Fine sort of thing for a decorated Barlord to do! it said, making Byron's new medal hang heavy on his neck.)

There was only one thing he could honourably do. Sighing (You'd think at 121 I'd have the sense not to get myself into these situations), Neville poured himself three drinks identical to Jude's.

"And if a word of this gets back to your government you'll find out just how sour a whisky sour can be!" he growled at the watching Adaine.

Jude's eyebrows knitted togther as he tried to think of the proper greeting but just gave up. "It is an honour to meet a barlord as renowned as yourself Neville Notthatone Chamberlin. How much do I owe you for the drinks?"

well if the barman is having the same drinks, I shouldn't be too bad off. I hope At the comment directed to Adaine, the young warlord chuckled, imagining the results if such news reached his lands. Shocked mother and perhaps a revolt led by his hot headed brother. "Been running this bar long sir? You must have some tales worth telling in your head."

"On the house ... your first visit," muttered Neville glumly, downing both the brandy and the shandy, and being grateful that neither Stephanie of Enn nor Sir Albert, Bahgum's renowned toper, were present to watch the effects.

Resolutely he tossed back the final glass, the Findhorn scrumpy, and wondered if he were man enough to stay upright until it met the other two drinks now ravaging his internal organs.

Just barely, it seemed. His hand began to shake as he grasped the glass of milk. His eyes began to water as he desperately crammed the first cookie into his mouth. Perspiration sprang out on his forehead as he realised he was somehow going to have to pour a second glass of milk so his poor young victim could have some hope of survival, too.

Aaaahhh, but it proved to be goat's milk. From Pansy, a Findhorn goat, pet of that nation's delegate, Brother Tim, and stabled downstairs in the Bar because Tim's landlord didn't understand goats. No alcohol in the known world could withstand the health-giving properties of the milk from the Findhorn herd's matriachs.

Neville's eyes uncrossed, his hair fell back into its usual suave 'no-style' style and his ears stopped glowing. His hand was steady and his voice firm as he poured the vital second glass and told young Jude, in a carefree tone that managed to disguise just how close he had come to professional disaster, "Uhh ... it's traditional round here to finish off with a milk chaser. Drink it down, you'll love it. And do have a cookie, our very own Violet Bracket baked them this morning."

"Why thank you, most kind." Jude smiled as he began to drink but he was slower then the Barlord so was just hlafway through his mix when told about the cookies and milk, info which just about made its way into a fuzzy mind. Expirence enough at drinking one glass of such drinks as brandy, he had never had mixed drinks or had more then two of any type.

Fortunatly Jude getting drunk made him stubborn so he didn't talk much or sing as he attempted to not look so slow at drinking. Lifting the glass to get the last drops, suit askew, hair up in patches and looking as drunk as he felt, Jude reached for the milk, getting it at second attempt.

"Cookie! Cookie!" Jude's hands let go off the milk and wolfed down a cookie before washing it down with the rather strong tasting milk. Calming down as the milk cleared his head, Jude ate another cookie calmly.

When he finished the milk and his two cookies, Jude used his left hand to comb down his hair and sorted his suit out. A small headache aside, Jude was back to normal. "Well that was an intresting, somewhat strange and enjoyable expirence for me. My thanks Barlord Neville Chamberilain. I must recommend this drink to my brother, he will love it. Oh and pass on my compliemtns and thanks to Lady Violet Bracket"

Hey Neville, could fix me up an Orange Julius please?

For a brief moment, Neville considered slipping him the non-alcoholic version. There were some blood oranges fresh in from Telidia, where apparently the King's gardens were recovering well from the earthquake. But no, look what had almost happened when he gave way to impulse ...

After nervously checking that Jude was still okay, he mixed the orange and the vanilla vodka and turned with relief to the blessedly uncomplicated task of communicating with Cybertoria.

"'Owyergoin'mateorright?"

Ah, but there was something that had to be said.

"Look, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Cybes, but the karaoke machine's on a go-slow. It still works, more or less, it's just, well, slow. Like, last night they were waltzing to Good Golly Miss Molly. I think it's something in the circuits. It gets all overloaded and it can't cope."

Sir Nasciens wondered what was upsetting the woman at the nearby table. The look she gave him was usually the sort reserved for war criminals.

Turning to the Nuncio, he asked who she might be, and whether he knew of any reason she should be so distressed.

The Nuncio glanced over to where Sir Nasciens was looking, and said, "Varia of Ecopoiea, I believe her name is. We 'crossed swords' once in the debate hall over the Freedom of Conscience resolution her nation sponsored. A fine debater and keen mind; you'd best be on your toes if you're planning on striking up a conversation."

"Mhm," Sir Nasciens answered non-commitally.

"Is it true?" he randomly asked the Nuncio, apropos of nothing.

"Mhm," Sir Nasciens answered non-commitally.

"Is it true?" he randomly asked the Nuncio, apropos of nothing.

The Nuncio smiled thinly and said, "Speak up and learn, my friend. It is better to find out than to suppose." Nodding to the acolyte and the Happiness Police captain, he added, "And now, my presence is needed in the debate hall. A very important resolution has come up and demands my attention. Besides, my poor deputy is having fits."

Though he hoped to be able to order something to eat, and thoroughly enjoying the company of Lord Byron and Lady Grey, it seemed that the wait staff had been taking their time. He apologized profusely, and informed them of his immanent departure for Listeneisse (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Listeneisse) for the gala opening of the UNA-Listeneisse (http://s3.invisionfree.com/UN_Organizations/index.php?showtopic=204) chapter.

Hoping to include the Nuncio and his companions before he left the door, he rose and gave a parting address.

"I must take my leave presently as well. I extend my hearty invitation to you personally and your nations' governments to attend the festivities! Yet I could well understand if the press of business here at UN Headquarters or domestically was to keep you or your nations from attending."

It was clear from his tone that he was also extending the invitation somewhat to other UN members and delegates present with keen ears, sufficent interest and travel budgets.

Sir Nasciens bowed properly to the Nuncio, "Good day, most reverend Nuncio."

He decided he would ask his other question again later.

Bowing partingly to the Prince and Lady Grey, he withdrew towards the door.

Lord Brythain sighed deeply as 'that Shakespeherian Rag' finally drew to an end. He considered it as elegant and intelligent as any other poet had attempted, but a surfeit nevertheless.

The Guinness of August had begun to pall. With peace in his heart, the Grand Duke of Roathin drew himself up to meet the dawn. For if April were indeed the cruelest month, October should be the greyest.

"Belch"

"By Eck, barkeep, get a new barrle o'Guinness on tap, this ere pint's tastes funny" slurs Sir Albert.

*oh, and if there's any left in th'owd barrel, i'll 'elp thee shift it........"

"Belch"

"By Eck, barkeep, get a new barrle o'Guinness on tap, this ere pint's tastes funny" slurs Sir Albert.

*oh, and if there's any left in th'owd barrel, i'll 'elp thee shift it........"
Why Sir Albert! You havent slipped in your usual piece of turnip! No wonder it is unfamiliar and abhorent to your palate! Prince Byron Stood respectfully as his guests left for their various functions. He was somewhat irked at the slow nature of the service and thought it had something to do with the nasty comment Sophia had thrown Violets way earlier in the day.
Women were he thought to himself the most wonderful yet the also the most confounding of all natures creatures.

Jude got up "Thank you barlord, I will certainly return but I best get back to Cuation before my brother takes back the throne." Turning to others in the bar "Take care and may your rule prosper."

Unless stopped, Jude left the bar in a happier state then when he entered

*Adaine shot Neville an innocent look that fooled no one and ordered an unsoured whisky*

"so... Varia what do you think of the resolution on IVF? my regional delegate voted against which is rather odd as he never votes on an resolution."

[I]
Women were he thought to himself the most wonderful yet the also the most confounding of all natures creatures.

Aye, that they are, but when tha reliases that all of them are a potential mother in law in the making, you understand them a little more, only a little mind you, but that can meake the difference between a kiss on the lips and the casualty department.....

For a brief moment, Neville considered slipping him the non-alcoholic version. There were some blood oranges fresh in from Telidia, where apparently the King's gardens were recovering well from the earthquake. But no, look what had almost happened when he gave way to impulse ...

After nervously checking that Jude was still okay, he mixed the orange and the vanilla vodka and turned with relief to the blessedly uncomplicated task of communicating with Cybertoria.

"'Owyergoin'mateorright?"

Ah, but there was something that had to be said.

"Look, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Cybes, but the karaoke machine's on a go-slow. It still works, more or less, it's just, well, slow. Like, last night they were waltzing to Good Golly Miss Molly. I think it's something in the circuits. It gets all overloaded and it can't cope."

Jeremy of Cybertoria said "no problem", I brought my own machine, just in case.

Jeremy of Cybertoria said "no problem", I brought my own machine, just in case.

Neville's jaw dropped. He grinned. He guffawed. He came out from behind the bar and slapped Jeremy a little too hard on the back.*

"You bastard!" he said fondly, laughing hard enough to kill a bush pig.

He went back behind the bar and, disregarding Jeremy's declared fondness for Orange Julius, drew two schooners of the precious Castlemaine XXXX imported in the previous century.

"Brought his own karaoke!" he chuckled to himself. "Brought his own! Little bastard!"

Fortunately, Violet Bracket knew what to do when Neville had these Ocker outbreaks. "D'ya reckon me and the other sheilas oughta go into the kitchen and make lamingtons?" she demanded menacingly, reaching for a soda-siphon.

Recognising a barbecue-stopper when he heard one, Neville sighed and resumed the thin veneer of Western civilisation.

*(Antipodean male bonding ritual).

Hodgelett started slightly at the image of Neville about to drink beer out of a can. But then he was getting stranger by the day. If he suddenly declared that his mother had purple pointy ears she'd hardly be surprised.
Instead of bringing up any conversation about mothers, she decided to confuse Cybertoria's delegate by selecting Tubular Bells on his machine and wandered out to take the seemingly resident goat a carrot.

Foutunatly Jeremy of Cybertoria found a way to stop shuch god forsaken music from continuing, and started to play his own song, and with a bottle of gin he smuggled fron Nevilles's bar he sang "Im Raving" by Scooter.

"Put on my raving shoes and I boarded a plane.
Touched down in the land were the skies are blue,
In the middle of the pouring rain.
Everybody was happy, energy shining down on me.
Yeeeah, I've got a first-class ticket been as good as a boy can be.

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the sweat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?

Yess!!
C'mon!
Yeeeeah!!

Put on my raving shoes and I boarded a plane.
Touched down in the land were the skies sre blue,
In the middle of the pouring rain.
Everybody was happy, energy shining down on me.
Yeeeah, I've got a first class ticket been as good as a boy can be.

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the seat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?

Yess!!
Wicked!
Wicked!
Wicked!
Give it up now!
Give it up now!
Give it up now!
Yeeeeah!!

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the sweat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?"

Foutunatly Jeremy of Cybertoria found a way to stop shuch god forsaken music from continuing, and started to play his own song, and with a bottle of gin he smuggled fron Nevilles's bar he sang "Im Raving" by Scooter.

"Put on my raving shoes and I boarded a plane.
Touched down in the land were the skies are blue,
In the middle of the pouring rain.
Everybody was happy, energy shining down on me.
Yeeeah, I've got a first-class ticket been as good as a boy can be.

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the sweat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?

Yess!!
C'mon!
Yeeeeah!!

Put on my raving shoes and I boarded a plane.
Touched down in the land were the skies sre blue,
In the middle of the pouring rain.
Everybody was happy, energy shining down on me.
Yeeeah, I've got a first class ticket been as good as a boy can be.

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the seat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?

Yess!!
Wicked!
Wicked!
Wicked!
Give it up now!
Give it up now!
Give it up now!
Yeeeeah!!

I'm raving, I'm raving.
I'm raving til' the sweat drops fall down off me.
I'm raving, I'm raving.
But do I really feel the way I feel?"
Byron Pulled a Tranquilliser Gun out and shot jeremy in the leg. The dart emptied its contents in to the singer and Jeremy slumped to the floor unconcious. Byron turned to the other Occupants of the Bar looking menacing. "Anyone else want to sing a song?!"

"Hello All. I'm Andy the delegate from Bumboat." He waved to everyone and sat at an empty table after ordering a glass of single malt (no ice) and a sirloin steak with baked potato. He looked down at the tranquilized singer, "Tough room."

Jeremy woke up, and took a drank of the gin, and in a drunken stuper, broke the bottle over Lord Byron's head, as payback for puttong him to sleep.

Byron watched on as Jeremy smashed the bottle over the similarly attired stangers head. Taking aim Byron shot a second dart into jeremies leg, stamping his entry visa to the land of nod for the second time that day.
As Jeremy lay Unconcious Byron called for a medics assistance in aiding the stricken stranger and then hog tied Jeremy to prevent another violent outburst when he came to again. :D

Upon entering the bar, Otterby was just in time to see Byron shooting the dart into Jeremy. He carefully sidestepped the falling body and shuffled up to Byron.

"Nifty trick there, whats in the dart?"

Then remembering his manners.

"Fancy a Guinness, have it on me."

Jeremy woke and apoligized, "Sorry, but I was very, very drunk."

Upon entering the bar, Otterby was just in time to see Byron shooting the dart into Jeremy. He carefully sidestepped the falling body and shuffled up to Byron.

"Nifty trick there, whats in the dart?"

Then remembering his manners.

"Fancy a Guinness, have it on me."
Well Otterby old friend, its a simple but nessessary device we carry when at home which protects us if we get in a spot with a Blue Huggy Bear. Very effective little nerve toxin renders the target sleepy.
Byron untied Jeremy Helped him up and handed him a fresh Pint. Jeremy, Have you met my friend Leonard Otterby?

Well Otterby old friend, its a simple but nessessary device we carry when at home which protects us if we get in a spot with a Blue Huggy Bear. Very effective little nerve toxin renders the target sleepy.
Byron untied Jeremy Helped him up and handed him a fresh Pint. Jeremy, Have you met my friend Leonard Otterby?


No I have not, and nice to meet you. (raises his glass) Cheers!

"Cheers", Otterby replied and raised his glass too.

"I wonder," he continued, "are you in the business of supplying those darts, I have a secondary brief to obtain something of that sort for some official purpose. I'd be very obliged if you could point me in the right direction as to where I may purchase them (wink, wink)."

"But of course," he added, seeing Byron and Jeremy's bemused expressions, "It won't be for anything nefarious you must understand, just well..."

He tailed of and returned to his drink.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," he said brightly to Jeremy, "please, allow me to make your acquaintance. Leonard Otterby, ambassador for the Republic of Compadria to the U.N.; I specialise in environmental and civil-rights issues, what about yourself my good man? You seem an upstanding fellow, if I may say so."

"Cheers", Otterby replied and raised his glass too.

"I wonder," he continued, "are you in the business of supplying those darts, I have a secondary brief to obtain something of that sort for some official purpose. I'd be very obliged if you could point me in the right direction as to where I may purchase them (wink, wink)."

"But of course," he added, seeing Byron and Jeremy's bemused expressions, "It won't be for anything nefarious you must understand, just well..."

He tailed of and returned to his drink.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," he said brightly to Jeremy, "please, allow me to make your acquaintance. Leonard Otterby, ambassador for the Republic of Compadria to the U.N.; I specialise in environmental and civil-rights issues, what about yourself my good man? You seem an upstanding fellow, if I may say so."

"Why thank you" said Jeremy, "My name is Jeremy Patrick Kershner, and I am the delegate for the proud , and mighty nation of Cybertoria."

"I don't believe I've heard of you chaps before", Otterby mused, "Could you tell me a little about your country?"

At that moment Anthony Holt, deputy to Otterby and master statiscian of Compadria, entered the room, looking suitably harassed.

"Ah, Anthony, do come and join us," called Holt, "here, have a Guinness and see if you can help us understand more about my new friends country, Cybertoria. Have you heard of it?"

"I don't believe I've heard of you chaps before", Otterby mused, "Could you tell me a little about your country?"

At that moment Anthony Holt, deputy to Otterby and master statiscian of Compadria, entered the room, looking suitably harassed.

"Ah, Anthony, do come and join us," called Holt, "here, have a Guinness and see if you can help us understand more about my new friends country, Cybertoria. Have you heard of it?"

"Well my country has been called a Civil Rights Lovefest, are very into technology, don't care much for inviorment issues, and Love techno music.

"Really," remarked Otterby brightly, "that is good to hear, we ourselves are designated as a Left-Leaning College State, but thats soon to change for the better once we get our political rights bit sorted out."

"Indeed," Holt intoned, "It is a shame, it drags us down, negating our World Benchmark rating for Civil Rights and Good rating for our economy."

Hey Neville, how bout a round of Snapps for Compadria and me?

"Snapps," Holt brightened visibly.

Neville smiled broadly and quickly, yet with panache, flipped a bottle and three shot glasses in their direction, with a quick, "chin-chin".

Otterby peered owlishly at the glasses and eventually poured a steady round in each.

"Bottoms up," he called out, grinning. And drank away.

"A refill I think," he then said and once again filled the glasses.

It wasn't the HOCEK NSUN Nuncio this time, but two other otaku that entered the bar, accompanied by the seemingly ever-present Happiness Police captain. Astute observers would recognize the green-robed priest as the older one who had disputed with the Nuncio, and later presided over the sake purification ritual during the Drunken Master ritual. His partner, however, was a younger otaku in yellow robes, wearing a different style of headdress. Followers of otaku vestments would know that it indicated the younger priest was from the Conclave of Beauty, rather than Friendship like most of the HOCEK UN delegation. The younger priest carried a tape measure, and began unrolling it as the pair approached the bar.

"Harrumph," the older priest said, a little gruffly, looking around the bar with a jaundiced eye. Turning to Neville, he said, "We've come on business, sir. I have been authorized," he added, withdrawing a scroll from his robes, "to negotiate the sale or lease of that area at the end of the bar where the recent Manifestation was witnessed.

"It is the desire of the Holy Otaku Church of the Eternal Kawaii to place a small shrine at the location to serve the spirit of the Manifestation. Nothing large or gaudy mind you; we wouldn't wish to disturb," he looked around, and added with a grimace, "the festivities here."

The otaku continued with a rather pained expression as he said, "The Church is prepared, er, to pay handsomely for this arrangement. What would you consider to be reasonable, my friend?"

Byron looked on at Jeremy and Leonard as they got smashed on the snapps. The two were at this stage in each others arms singing like the front row at a vegas show. Holt was dropping off to nod as the stong libation took its toll on his braincells.
Feeling left out after introducing the pair Byron took hes revenge. A dart in both legs for the three ensured a Compadrian, Cybertorian slumber party!

Time to get My delegation back to work Byron thought and he gathered up his people who were spread around the facility. Lady Sophia was found behind one of the Bars Fern planters chasing an imaginary womble. Byron laughed hard on seeing the once demure and intelligent Woman now caught in the Brain turmoil of an excess of Drink. Throwing her over his shoulder Byron asked Neville for a Key to one of the Rooms so she could sleep. Leaving her slumbering peacefully there Byron returned to the Bar and ordered a Guinness.

Smiling at Violet, Byron said "it appears the lady cant hold her Liquer" And they both laughed.

Byron reloaded the tranquiliser gun, Just in case, and slipped a card for the Manufacturer into Leonard Otterby's jacket pocket.
Byronesco Ballistics Ltd was going to have a Bumper year. :D

Neville looked at the otaku strangly, this was a situtation he had never experienced before. "I'm afraid I don't have the authority to authorize such a transaction, but I'll call the building management and see if someone can come up here and discuss this with you."

Neville reached under the bar, withdrew a phone and called the manager's office. "Hello, Bill, this is Neville up in the Stranger's Bar, I've got a situtation here that you need to come up here to deal with. There's a couple of otaku here from The Eternal Kawaii who'd apparently like to purchase a section of the bar. Yes, you heard me correctly, they want to buy part of the bar. OK I'll let them know." Neville said and he hung up the phone.

"Well, Bill's on his way up to discuss your proposal, would you like anything to drink while you wait?"

The arrival of Bill the building manager was the last thing Neville needed in a day full of last things he needed. It had started with the verbal graffitist -- discreetly removed by the cheery Euroslavian security detail, but nonetheless the first of the last things.

Then there was the hiccup in the weapons detection machine. It kept on allowing people to bring in things that obviously were weapons just because of the silly technicality that actually they weren't weapons. And now Byron was doing a roaring trade in them and soon the UN was going to be full of ... tran ... quil...ised...del-e-gates ...hmm, okay, so maybe that wasn't such a problem, after all.

But sozzled sleeping Sophias were -- no doubt Byron would expect him to come up with some sort of convincing tale for the folks back home -- and now, to top it off, a Building Manager!

"I thought you were supposed to be on the Fortieth Floor fielding the fooforaw," Neville said coldly.

He could hardly believe the nonsensical reply that Bill came up with -- he, Neville, had asked him to drop by? He, Neville, had actually suggested that a trained Barlord wasn't authorised to make a decision?

"Look, I'm sorry, Bill, it was all a fuss over nothing," he apologised tiredly. "I don't know what came over me. While you're here, though, why don't you try out the new menu ... we're re-opening a few of the old dining rooms, the demand's increasing ..."

With Bill distracted for the moment by a large and varied range of platters (and a huge sheaf of health regulations), Neville came dashing back to the otaku.

"I do know what came over me," he told the priests. "I was briefly taken over by a Tongue Twister! The most dreaded of the Dialogue Demons! Gentlemen, your shrine is welcome here, at no charge at all, on one condition: that it be staffed 24 hours a day!"

Only under such divine protection, Neville feared, would he be safe from any similar unsettling episodes. Selfish? Yes, perhaps. But, he consoled himself, a resident deity surely couldn't do anyone any harm ... surely ...

Neville frowned. Something felt odd. Something within him churned and he felt compelled to look over his left shoulder. He paled. A slender, cadaverous visage looked back at him, thin bloodless lips peeled back over pale toothy gums in a rictus smile.

"Good evening. I could not help but overhear your conversation with these gentlemen," - he indicated the otaku with a slim, clammy hand - "and regret that I must inform you that the deeds to the Strangers' Bar" - the hand appeared again, this time holding out a swiftly unravelling tea-brown parchment covered with an ornate, serif-laden script - "do not permit the leasing or sale of subdivisions of its interior to persons not held to be neutral under..."

Neville's eyes glazed as the man continued, his monotonous speech seemingly not hindered by mere concerns for punctuation or mutual comprehension. He flinched involuntarily as a wave of dread coursed through his body. Where did that come from?, he wondered, despearately trying not to draw any unpleasant conclusions.

"... excepting such circumstances whereby the structure and integrity of the area in question are unaffected by such alterations with the proviso that said alterations are not carried out with the intention ..."

Neville felt himself swaying, afflicted by a crushing sensation of lethargy. He hasn't paused for breath, he realised, and shuddered again.

"... notwithstanding the articles conditions and restrictions as laid out above in relation to such circumstances and ..."

Neville's vision cluded and began to darken...

Byron was fading fast. The monotonous drool of what appeared to be the english language was putting patrons to nod quicker than a tranquiliser dart. With the last of his concious minds focus he lifted the dartgun and launched three darts into the Lawyers right ass cheek. The Lawyer immediatly slumped to the floor, Rendered unconcious.

Waking now, Byron feared a lawsuit. Hey You all seen it! It was self defence! :D

Otterby awoke with a start from his slumber and felt in his pocket instinctively. He found a card with the words Byronesco Ballistics Ltd. on it.

Smiling, he chuckled to himself, "Byron, you old codger," he muttered to himself and patted the still comatose Holt on the shoulder.

Otterby's head still hurt from the Schnapps and he looked around for something to ease the throbbing pain in his head.

"A glass of water please Neville," he asked slurringly and upon receiving the drink turned and tripped over a figure lying on the floor with oddly familiar looking darts in his right buttock.

"Who the devils that," he growled angrily, then upon looking closer his face turned livid pale.

"Oh no," he gasped, "NSUN lawyers".

Neville nodded sagely with a slightly hunted look in his eyes.

"He almost got me," he said shakily.

Otterby looked thoughtfully at his card and pulled out his mobile phone rapidly.

"Hello, yes, could I have one of your best dart delivary sytems and twenty darts please. How much? 1000 strachans!"

He paused; then shrugged.

"I'll put it on official expenses and yes, i'll have the express delivery service please. Thank you. Bye"

Hodgelett walked back in, dusting carrot from her fingers to a rather unusual sight. Neville seemed to be standing in some sort of hypnotic trance. Lord Byron...'or was it HRH Byron now?'...was holding some sort of rifle behind his back rather sheepishly and gesturing to the bar's residents at general in the way she'd seen politicians did in Parliament attempting to muster support. A rather grey looking man lay slumped on the floor, in the process of waking up. The rather severe Otaku priest was back too, looking on snootily.
She ran over to the bar and attracted Violet's attention with the rather unladylike process of whistling, waving and making rather extravagent gestures, but needs must when the devil rides.
"Violet! I need the 'colourinatimg cocktail'." At the barmaid's rather blank expression she explained. "One can of Red Devil, shot of grenadine, shot of blue caracao, shot of creme de menthe, absinthe, shot of Baileys and another of Tia Maria. Double shot of espresso. Splash of OJ, another of Lucozade and a shot of Malibu Mango. Sprinkle with two table spoons of sugar. The layers must not mix! Now take it over to that grey guy!"
She paused. "better make a smaller one too for Neville, just the caffeine parts I think however, and a glass of your strongest smelling spirit too! Run!"

Byron looked on at Jeremy and Leonard as they got smashed on the snapps. The two were at this stage in each others arms singing like the front row at a vegas show. Holt was dropping off to nod as the stong libation took its toll on his braincells.
Feeling left out after introducing the pair Byron took hes revenge. A dart in both legs for the three ensured a Compadrian, Cybertorian slumber party!

Time to get My delegation back to work Byron thought and he gathered up his people who were spread around the facility. Lady Sophia was found behind one of the Bars Fern planters chasing an imaginary womble. Byron laughed hard on seeing the once demure and intelligent Woman now caught in the Brain turmoil of an excess of Drink. Throwing her over his shoulder Byron asked Neville for a Key to one of the Rooms so she could sleep. Leaving her slumbering peacefully there Byron returned to the Bar and ordered a Guinness.

Smiling at Violet, Byron said "it appears the lady cant hold her Liquer" And they both laughed.

Byron reloaded the tranquiliser gun, Just in case, and slipped a card for the Manufacturer into Leonard Otterby's jacket pocket.
Byronesco Ballistics Ltd was going to have a Bumper year. :D

A very pissed Jeremy, awoke and called some of his country's black ops, They broke through the window to "take care" of Lord Byron

Otterby, seeing the black ops coming through the window, feverishly pulled out his newly acquired dart projector and fired a series of darts in quick succession at each of the operatives, immobilising each one instantly.

He then blew an imaginary smoke trail of the top of the dart launcher.

First, insane defenses guarding most of the top floor, then a brothel ran by fish-men, after that insane automated drones in the basement, and now a bar? What kind of insane place was this? Still, a bar meant people potentially friendly, and that was better than he had encountered since leaving the main conference room, where he had cast his vote against the current resolution. The sanity of this place seemed to be slipping more and more as he was here, and he was not entirely sure if it wasn't his sanity going with it.

He sat down at the bar, motioning for a tender and considering what to order. Hell, what could he order? He considered, and then asked for a simple whiskey. It wouldn't take away the edge of this building, but it would make things less strange right now. His main question were what the drones were guarding. The top floor seemed to be a shrine.

He turned towards the other customers. What could they choose to reveal of this unusual structure?

First, insane defenses guarding most of the top floor, then a brothel ran by fish-men, after that insane automated drones in the basement, and now a bar? What kind of insane place was this? Still, a bar meant people potentially friendly, and that was better than he had encountered since leaving the main conference room, where he had cast his vote against the current resolution. The sanity of this place seemed to be slipping more and more as he was here, and he was not entirely sure if it wasn't his sanity going with it.

He sat down at the bar, motioning for a tender and considering what to order. Hell, what could he order? He considered, and then asked for a simple whiskey. It wouldn't take away the edge of this building, but it would make things less strange right now. His main question were what the drones were guarding. The top floor seemed to be a shrine.

He turned towards the other customers. What could they choose to reveal of this unusual structure?

Otterby, who was by now thoroughly enjoying his dart gun, accidentally fired a dart into Lilliths Vengeance's back.

"Sorry," he called, but his unfortunate victim was already off in the land of Nod.

"Damn," he muttered, "another drink to buy when he comes round."

Jeremy of Cybertoria then called 30 more black ops to "take care" of Byron, to many for Compadria's dart projecter to stop, they all came crashing through a roof window sliding down on ropes each armed with FN P90 sub machine guns, Walter P99 semiautomatic hand guns, and Uzi SMGs. They were also all highy traind in Aikijutsu martial arts. They then went twords Lord Byron. As they did Jeremy said "Thats what you get for being jealous, and putting me to sleep as a result!" Then one of the black ops shot out the lights, and all the black ops then put on there night-vision googles to make shure they saw Lord Byron, but he could not see them.

The green-clad otaku glanced back and forth between Neville, Bill, and Bill's lawyer, whose droning speech reminded him oddly of the Drunken Master ritual, only without benefit of mind-altering chemicals. He didn't so much as bat an eye when the lawyer suddenly slumped unconscious.

"Yes. Well, quite," he said calmly, and turned to Bill and Neville. "Now then, I think a cup of green tea, plain, will do."

The younger, yellow-clad otaku glanced over at Lord Byron, who seemed to be in the middle of a crowd of what he took to be ninja, all attacking the nobleman with weapons that had an unfortunate habit of fizzling into non-existance as the bar's weapons detection machine got back on line. He looked back at Neville and said, "That won't be a problem, sir. The HOCEK will provide staffing."

"Providing space for them will be part of the deal, naturally," his green-clad partner added. "Now, who am I expected to negoiate with?"

Byron laughed out loud as the black ops teams weopens turned into feather dusters and paper plates of Jelo. The Acme Weopen detector was making a mess of the Black ops teams nice uniforms and Byron happilly shot a dart into each one as they fumbled wondering where their guns and knives went. Otterby seemed delighted to have a chance to have some target practise with his new toy rather than pretending to accidentally shoot innocent bystanders. All the fracas woke the sleeping Green Tentacled thing which had become so very fond of Jeremy. The GTT grabbed Jeremy and made a move back toward the curtained section of the bar. Byron wondered should he Help the Cybertorian and decided against. However hearing Jeremy scream again he decided to put a dart in Jeremy as at least he would be asleep for what could only be described as a very unsavoury sexual encounter. Better make sure he stays under Byron decided as he shot 4 darts into the Cybertorian.
The Black ops team was now a crumpled mess of men snoring away Stepping over them toward the bar he was joined by a delighted Otterby.
Two Pints Neville and a Black ops disposal team, when ever your ready!

Bowing to the Nuncio and his apprentice Byron Slurped heavilly from his pint. Tranquilising was indeed thirsty work.

Unknowest to Lord Byron Jeremy of Cybertoria had a mentle implant (so he could still be "awake" that he used to call his greatest assain "BLACK FIST), ( a powerful mystic who could steal souls, fire, was telekenetic, had telepathy, and summopn demons) who was imune to the bars defence systems, and BLACK FIST" started to attack Lord Byron. ( Jeremy thought "I'm giveing up that easaly! Even as the GTT was "busy" with him).

The outbreak of violence was distracting, to say the least. Neville shook his head in dismay and turned to move the lawyer-

Who had disappeared. Neville looked around frantically. No sign of him. He caught sight of an envelope on the bar, addressed to 'The Proprietor'. Don't open it, the more sensible part of his brain yelped. Its plea fell on deaf mental ears. He ripped through the neatly sealed flap, pulled out a crisply folded piece of paper, opened it.

At the top of the paper was clearly printed the word 'INVOICE'. Neville's eyes reluctantly read on.

The younger otaku, appalled at the savagery around him, just made out a soft thud from behind the bar. He looked to see... well, no one. A piece of paper was floating gently beyond sight.

William Smithers (Bill to his friends) reached over and picked up the invoice from where it had fallen, "Whoa, am I glad I didn't get the lawyers involved in this situtation. I wouldn't want to be stuck with that bill"

He turned to face the otaku, "Now, after hearing your offer, I am prepared to grant your request, which I might add I am legally able to do, under the condition that the management of the UN building be given 60% of the funds that you were offering to the bar. The remaining money will go to the bar. Also we request that you try to keep the cuteness manifestations under control, they tend to rile up the mutants down in the basements. So, are these terms acceptable?"

"Not acceptable, because not necessary," came a voice from the bar-room floor. A work-roughened hand seized invoices, authorisations, bills of lading, mission statements and all other such petifogging paraphernalia and, with casual strength, tore them in two. In four. In eight ...

"I," said Neville grandly, "am a Man of the People, ennobled by untold eons of selfless labour. You, sirs," he continued, gesturing to the otaku, "are Men of the Cloth, ennobled by eons of simple devotion to a blameless faith. We," he proclaimed, glowing with modest pride, "are Nature's Gentlemen. And between gentlemen, nothing more than a simple handshake is required to seal an honest bargain."

Reaching out, he shook the hands of the entire delegation from the Eternal Kawaii.

"Pray, set up your shrine in peace and honour," he said. "Now, as to the matter of the Building Administration ... "

He reached under the counter and brought forth several inlaid ebony caskets, hand-carved sandalwood chests, bejewelled golden boxes and such.

"These contain palimpsests, charters, message-sticks, notes handwritten on drinks coasters, ancient Celtic manuscripts, cryptic runes in long-lost languages and mystic scribblings on misshapen stones (which may be the fossilised tracks of unknown sea-creatures but which are believed to be startlingly clear signs from earlier intelligent inhabitants of the Earth, possibly Atlanteans)," he said.

"And each and every one of them proclaims the Strangers' Bar to be a place outside Space and Time, a sacred site, a heritage centre, a cultural icon and an independent entity entirely separate from all mundane authorities. That includes Building Management, Bill," he added kindly. "I'll send you the photocopies and the Statutory Declarations."

"Now," he continued, "as to the lawyers -- thanks entirely to the quick thinking of Hodgelett and the speedy action of Violet, the grey and colourless form whom we saw here was transformed, by their hands and that multi-hued drink, into a Colourful Legal Identity. And we all know that Colourful Legal Identity is the non-libellous term for Crims' Mouthpiece. Naturally, we can't have such shady characters frequenting an area enjoyed by the unrelentingly impeccable and upright members of the UN diplomatic corps.

"Consequently, all lawyers will be refused entry to the Bar unless accompanied by a member in good standing. And if you'd accompany a lawyer, you can't possibly be a member in good standing. Exceptions will be made, of course, for pro bono activists, undergraduates and witty silks from the Inns of Court.

"Now, let us all -- dammit, leave him alone!"

With that, Neville snatched a blushing but fully-clad Jeremy, who had kept one foot on the ground throughout, from the, uh, jaws of the GTT and, moving with typical grace and dexterity, refilled the drinking vessels of every inhabitant of the Bar.

"And now, I beg you, gentles all, to join me in a sustained and heartfelt toast to those guardians of our civic security -- the Boys in Blue!"

And so they did.

"Not acceptable, because not necessary," came a voice from the bar-room floor. A work-roughened hand seized invoices, authorisations, bills of lading, mission statements and all other such petifogging paraphernalia and, with casual strength, tore them in two. In four. In eight ...

"I," said Neville grandly, "am a Man of the People, ennobled by untold eons of selfless labour. You, sirs," he continued, gesturing to the otaku, "are Men of the Cloth, ennobled by eons of simple devotion to a blameless faith. We," he proclaimed, glowing with modest pride, "are Nature's Gentlemen. And between gentlemen, nothing more than a simple handshake is required to seal an honest bargain."

Reaching out, he shook the hands of the entire delegation from the Eternal Kawaii.

"Pray, set up your shrine in peace and honour," he said. "Now, as to the matter of the Building Administration ... "

He reached under the counter and brought forth several inlaid ebony caskets, hand-carved sandalwood chests, bejewelled golden boxes and such.

"These contain palimpsests, charters, message-sticks, notes handwritten on drinks coasters, ancient Celtic manuscripts, cryptic runes in long-lost languages and mystic scribblings on misshapen stones (which may be the fossilised tracks of unknown sea-creatures but which are believed to be startlingly clear signs from earlier intelligent inhabitants of the Earth, possibly Atlanteans)," he said.

"And each and every one of them proclaims the Strangers' Bar to be a place outside Space and Time, a sacred site, a heritage centre, a cultural icon and an independent entity entirely separate from all mundane authorities. That includes Building Management, Bill," he added kindly. "I'll send you the photocopies and the Statutory Declarations."

"Now," he continued, "as to the lawyers -- thanks entirely to the quick thinking of Hodgelett and the speedy action of Violet, the grey and colourless form whom we saw here was transformed, by their hands and that multi-hued drink, into a Colourful Legal Identity. And we all know that Colourful Legal Identity is the non-libellous term for Crims' Mouthpiece. Naturally, we can't have such shady characters frequenting an area enjoyed by the unrelentingly impeccable and upright members of the UN diplomatic corps.

"Consequently, all lawyers will be refused entry to the Bar unless accompanied by a member in good standing. And if you'd accompany a lawyer, you can't possibly be a member in good standing. Exceptions will be made, of course, for pro bono activists, undergraduates and witty silks from the Inns of Court.

"Now, let us all -- dammit, leave him alone!"

With that, Neville snatched a blushing but fully-clad Jeremy, who had kept one foot on the ground throughout, from the, uh, jaws of the GTT and, moving with typical grace and dexterity, refilled the drinking vessels of every inhabitant of the Bar.

"And now, I beg you, gentles all, to join me in a sustained and heartfelt toast to those guardians of our civic security -- the Boys in Blue!"

And so they did.

Thanks Neville.

Otterby sipped his Guinness and looked with a kind of jubilation at the joyous scene unfolding.

"My god," he murmurred, "it's magic".

And then he ordered another round for everyone in the immediate vicinity of his seat.

Jeremy of Cybertoria watched with glee as his mighty assasian beat the **** out of Lord Byron with his magic, for the "dart" insident Byron did to him. It was so fun to watch his assasian summon a demon, to rip Byron's arm off.

The green-clad otaku looked over Neville's treasure chest of strange and apparently alien religious artifacts, and stroked his scruffy beard, hmmming in curiousity. "I should invite some of my colleagues from the Conclave of Wisdom to look over this lot," he said, half to himself, "I gather, then, that you claim these as your bone fides? We'll accept your word then, particularly since you're being so generous."

His yellow-clad partner turned to Bill and said, "I shouldn't think Manifestations would disturb the local demons, if anything they'd dissuade them from showing up here." Warming to his topic, he continued, "You see, the whole point of a shrine is to give the Manifestation a sacred space to reside, untainted by the evils infesting the surrounding world." Seeing Bill's rather dubious expression upon hearing this explanation, the younger priest added, "I suppose...that you could consider it bi-directional. The Manfestation will be less likely to appear elsewhere within the bar if It decides It likes the home we've offered it." He smiled eagerly, hoping this would satisfy the sceptical foreigner.

... It was so fun to watch his assasian summon a demon, to rip Byron's arm off.

"Jer, mate, don't you ever learn?" muttered Neville, pressing the requisite buttons to restore Byron to full-bodied heartiness and reduce all assassins, ninjas, troops, invaders and everthing but the duly constituted Guardians of the Law (in the shape of Constable Constable, who had dropped in for a cooling ice-cream soda in the course of his admirable endeavours) to phantoms of the imagination, recalled only in fevered dreams.

Responding to the utterance of Otterby, a brilliantly-white angel of the almighty God came down, tucked its fiery sword under its armit, promptly siezed the demon, and gobbled it up.

Then, for good measure, it gobbled up the fellow that summoned the demon, and warned the bar, "None of that now. Play nice."

Then, as Neville hit the button, it too disappeared, leaving only a refreshing scent of frankinscense, sandalwood and powdered talc in its wake.

Just move along thought Yqu as he saw what was going on take a seat and order a drink

Obviously tired and in need of some social interaction Lydia entered the bar hoping to find a familiar face and immediately noted one in the guise of Neville, which was always a welcome sight.

“Good Morning Ambassador, it is morning on Telidian time is not?” stated Neville as the weary Ambassador sat down at the bar.

“Indeed it is Neville, but here one can never know what time it is with all the space warping, random fluxes and quirks of quantum mechanics that seem to propagate” she replied with a grin. “Probably just as well really. I’ve left my staff to continue our campaign and considering I have written enough letters to last a lifetime over the last couple of days, I’d be very grateful for a stiff drink. Not too many though, I need to get back shortly. Oh, by the way could you rustle up some food and send it up to the 23rd floor for my colleagues and a good stiff brandy for our Minister of Foreign Affairs? He just arrived from Telidia after a long meeting and doesn’t look happy, maybe that will cheer the old man up.”

Responding with his usual promptness and almost telepathic sense in predicting his patron’s drinks, he placed before her a nice Ennish brandy. Lydia could not help but feel lucky to have the Strangers Bar in the same building where she worked and felt saddened at the possibility she may have to leave quite soon. Resting her head in one hand whilst playing with her glass only two thoughts occupied her mind. “What does the future hold and what about the lovely Mat?”

*Adaine shot an interested look at the chests. He walked over and began systematically (?) translating them and memorising. knowledge was never wasted.*

Otterby looked at where the angel had been a moment before and rubbed his eyes:

"Too much Guinness," he thought, "or is there a God?"

He then came to the conclusion that it was probably God.

I really must deal with this stress somehow. I'm beginning to hallucinate. And I could've sworn I'm hearing music in my head

Otterby's head was ringing. Had he really just seen angels appear before him? Or was Neville's machine still on the fritz?

"This is really too confusing," he thought out loud and turned to see that Holt had passed out again and was lying on the floor.

Sorry About that Byron, just venting some steam.

Sorry About that Byron, just venting some steam.
Byron Brushed off the dust particles off his suit and fixed his attire. "No problem Jeremy" he said smiling and whipping out his dart gun shot Jeremy in the thigh. "we shant make an international incident of it shall we? Byron remarked grinning as Jeremy slipped into unconciousness yet again. Turning to Neville and turning round his dart gun so Neville could clasp the Ivory handle, Byron passed the shooter to the barman remarking that it was more trouble than it was worth. "be sure to fill the Cybertorian Delegate with booze courtesy of the realm" he added knowing Jeremy would be Angered by the latest trip to Nod.
And as all is well he continued let all the drinks tonight be courtesy of the realm to aid in taking our minds off the Passing of the solar ruination resolution. Byron ordered a Guinness and sat down next to Lydia.
"sterling work on trying to counter the SRR before the Final Tally. Your nations hard work on all our behalves is to be commended.

Byron Brushed off the dust particles off his suit and fixed his attire. "No problem Jeremy" he said smiling and whipping out his dart gun shot Jeremy in the thigh. "we shant make an international incident of it shall we? Byron remarked grinning as Jeremy slipped into unconciousness yet again. Turning to Neville and turning round his dart gun so Neville could clasp the Ivory handle, Byron passed the shooter to the barman remarking that it was more trouble than it was worth. "be sure to fill the Cybertorian Delegate with booze courtesy of the realm" he added knowing Jeremy would be Angered by the latest trip to Nod.
And as all is well he continued let all the drinks tonight be courtesy of the realm to aid in taking our minds off the Passing of the solar ruination resolution. Byron ordered a Guinness and sat down next to Lydia.
"sterling work on trying to counter the SRR before the Final Tally. Your nations hard work on all our behalves is to be commended.

"Isn't that a bit of a risk?" asked Yqu.

"Isn't that a bit of a risk?" asked Yqu.
Lord Brythain turned to look at the questioner.

"Ah. Risk is relative. Allow me to demonstrate. Neville? The old Bordeaux, please."

An eyebrow raised, the bartender-deity (or was that deity-bartender-wannabe, Roathin idly wondered) handed him a dark, faintly dusty (nothing physical, just the aura of faint dust) bottle.

"Observe. Chateau Yquem, Grand Premier Cru, millennium edition. About $400 or £200. Now you have the necessary bottle to deal with it. Even if Jeremy awakes, blames you and hurts you, you will still have tasted of the grand, the premier, the cruel golden mellowness of the best of a good year. It is I who am paying. Enjoy, and share it around."

Anthony Holt sat up with a start and looked around him at the now eerily empty room. He saw Jeremy sleeping beside him and then spotted Byron with his Chateau Yquem, Grand Premier Cru.

"Any chance of a glass," he asked somewhat plaintively.

Lord Brythain turned to look at the questioner.

"Ah. Risk is relative. Allow me to demonstrate. Neville? The old Bordeaux, please."

An eyebrow raised, the bartender-deity (or was that deity-bartender-wannabe, Roathin idly wondered) handed him a dark, faintly dusty (nothing physical, just the aura of faint dust) bottle.

"Observe. Chateau Yquem, Grand Premier Cru, millennium edition. About $400 or £200. Now you have the necessary bottle to deal with it. Even if Jeremy awakes, blames you and hurts you, you will still have tasted of the grand, the premier, the cruel golden mellowness of the best of a good year. It is I who am paying. Enjoy, and share it around."

"Well, couldn't the paying of the drinks be bad for you you?"

The green-clad otaku mused at Byron's generosity and said, "Well then, I suppose the tea will be on Your Lordship's tab, therefore I thank you, sir. We can commiserate about the Solar Panels item--you know, it went all the way up to the Conclave of Wisdom back home.

"According to our Nuncio, apparently they have determined that the Solar Panels resolution is a Divine Rebuke. The NSUN has brought down the wrath of the Eternal Kawaii (may the Cute One be praised) upon itself for passing too many resolutions intolerant of national cultures."

Meanwhile, the yellow-clad otaku was busy with his tape, measuring out the end of the bar where the Manifestation had occurred and making notes to himself, humming pleasantly.

Edward sulked in the one of the shadowy parts of the bar nursing a flask of Clearwater Imperial Brandy. This latest tragic environmental resolution had been followed closely by a well-intentioned but anti-sovereignty resolution that would force a labelling standard even on those nations that did not need them...like the Federation. He was growing increasingly weary of bad resolutions, and was beginning to suspect that he would have to give the UN a shot in the arm.

Jeremy woke up from another "dart" incident but instead of being pissed again he got so drunk, that he was dancing on top of Neville's Bar, in nothing but his bathing suit, a bottle of scotch in one hand, and singing the theam song to "Laverne and Shirley".

Neville wished, for Jeremy's sake, that he had a more responsive audience. Few of the serious-minded, abstracted, intoxicated or just plain cranky delegates currently patronising the Bar were in a mood to give the Cybertorian delegate's performance the reception it deserved (which, in Neville's opinion, should have involved a judicious amount of stale-bread-roll tossing and a fair bit of scattering crispy things on the bar to be danced on. Well-aimed cork-popping would also have been appropriate).

However, he and Violet did their best to make up for the unresponsiveness of the customers, applauding politely at each move that seemed to be intentional. It must be admitted that the concluding sl-i-i-de was something of a relief to the watchers.

Fortunately, it brought Jeremy tumbling off the end of the bar most distant from the measuring otaku, and the subsequent fall, though minor, was sufficient to rob him of what little consciousness he had left. Neville was able to trundle him away to a comfortable room and Violet unobtrusively gathered up his clothes. The Nifty-as-Nu Cleaning Service round the corner would collect them and have them back in better condition than ever, long before Jeremy woke up.

"I wonder if the UN's Delegate Education Program would extend to giving him singing lessons?" Neville mused.

"It wouldn't help," said practical Violet. "Once a karaokist, always a karaokist."

However, she filed away for future reference the information that there existed yet another UN program which contained wide-open possibilities for ... creative interpretation.

Violet was far too diplomatic to use such a crass phrase as, "loopholes you could drive a truck through".

Jeremy of Cybertoria woke up and said "oh god what the hell did I drink my heads killing me?"

"Well Jeremy," Otterby said with a sort of languid humour, "I think it was Scotch and a good deal of Schnapps. Nothing to bad at any rate."

"Didn't you try some of the Duke's Chateau d'If -- I mean, d'Yquem?" Neville said. "I'm told the pain in the wallet is so great it cancels out the pain of the hangover."

He had just been totting up the accounts, finding, to his surprise, that last night's little indulgence brought Brythain's tab within, so to speak, shouting distance of Byron's Hibernian generosity.

"What you need to do, Jer, is keep an eye on the alcohol content," Neville continued helpfully. "You'd be able to drink a lot more if you'd just read the labels."

The sudden silence, the listening ears, the bright, beady eyes, the bushy tails (where appropriate) alerted him too late. He'd inadvertently referred to a current proposal. Oh dear, oh my, oh goodness gracious me!

Annoyed with himself, Neville picked up Violet's cat and carried it outside to set it among the pigeons. There was always the chance that the commotion outside would drown out the commotion inside.

Hey Neville do have a cure for one hell of a hangover?

"Try drinking lots of water whilst eating one, raw egg-yolk," Neville suggested gently and handed him the requisite materials to do so.

Hangover? her (hands over an address), visit my mother in law, your hangover won't seem so bad after that..............

"Thanks!" said Jeremy of Cybertoria, "thats hits the spot".

"Say Jeremy, what was that you just took?"

Water and eggyoke.

"Quiet round here isn't it, I wonder why?"

Anybody wana Karypoke with me?

"Karypoke? Is that anything like the hokey-pokey?"

yes, only more modern, less hokey.....

"Sounds fun, care to teach us how to play it?"

*Saunters in and looks around.*

"Hello fellow rulers!" says Gia to the room full of dignified folk.

"Barkeep would you kindly fix me a martini?"

"Anyone for a game backgammon?"

Co-operating readily -- anything to avoid any more of Jeremy's singing -- Neville filled a martini glass and found the backgammon board. But first it seemed more hospitable to give this newcomer a chance to meet the neighbours.

After introductions all round, Neville set the ball rolling again.

"Our friends here were just beginning to invent a new game," he explained. "It helps keep the brain's sinuses open, sort of. Is there anything anyone'd like to see included?"

"Free drinks after each round!"

"Free rounds after each drink!"

"Free drinks after each drink, all round!"

Neville put his head in his hands. He'd found it was easier to tear his hair out that way.

The U.N. delegate to Ceylon walked the doors to the bar for the first time. He was nervous and slightly awed at being surrounded by so many important people. Though he was a native of the Commonwealth of Gregius and wasn't too happy about seeing one or two of the more capitalist nations represented in the room. He ordered a glass of water and let the tide of conversation wash over him.

Jeremy picked up the mike and sang Pts.Of.Athrty by Linkin Park


Yo, yo
Forfeit the game
Before somebody else
Takes you out of the frame
Puts your name to shame
Cover up your face
You can’t run the race
The pace is too fast
You just won’t last

You love the way I look at you
While taking pleasure in the awful things you put me through
You take away if I give in
My life, my pride is broken

You like to think you’re never wrong (You like to think you’re never wrong)
You have to act like you’re someone (You have to act like you’re someone)
You want someone to hurt like you (You want someone to hurt like you)
You want to share what you’ve been through
You live what you’ve learned

You love the things I say I’ll do
The way I’ll hurt myself again just to get back at you
You take away when I give in
My life, my pride is broken

You like to think you’re never wrong (You like to think you’re never wrong)
You have to act like you’re someone (You have to act like you’re someone)




You want someone to hurt like you (You want someone to hurt like you)
You want to share what you’ve been through
You live what you’ve learned

Yo, yo
Forfeit the game
Before somebody else
Takes you out of the frame
Puts your name to shame
Cover up your face
You can’t run the race
The pace is too fast
You just won’t last

Forfeit the game
Before somebody else
Takes you out of the frame (frame)
Puts your name to shame
Cover up your face
(You) You can’t run the race
The pace is too fast
You just won’t last

You like to think you’re never wrong (You like to think you’re never wrong)
You have to act like you’re someone (You have to act like you’re someone)
You want someone to hurt like you (You want someone to hurt like you)
You want to share what you’ve been through

You like to think you’re never wrong (You like to think you’re never wrong)
You have to act like you’re someone (You have to act like you’re someone)
You want someone to hurt like you (You want someone to hurt like you)
You want to share what you’ve been through
You live what you’ve learned

Sir Albert stuffs some cheese in his ears....

The two Kawaiian otaku glance over at the singing Jeremy with a look of alarm, and stare back at one another. The green-clad one says to his partner, "Perhaps a double circle of wards will be needed around the shrine when your folks install it?"

"Yo!yo!yo!"
sezs the Ranimiwaran Minister of Enjoyment as he enters the room.

As it is a warm summer's evening, Gurgle the Dragon, representative of The Dominion of Dastardly Stench, from the Magical Realm, leaves his body outside of the building and pokes his head in through the window.

He catches some of the rap in the background, and is not impressed. In the 300 or so years of his life, he has heard the arrogant ravings of princes, paupers and everything in between. Arrogance, he knows, is the harbinger of war, and war is a humbling experience. Still, he finds it ironic that, in the nation that gave rise to the art form, its arrogance is directed primarily against a group whose ancestors taught that self-same arrogance to those who voice it now. They are little more than mirror reflections of one another.

As he thinks about this, he flatulates. Gurgle flatulates often. He measures forty feet from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail, and, for all he knows, his intestines are miles long. This time, he has made sure that the part of his body that did the flatulating is a goodly distance from the window. Still, given the current company, he wonders if anyone would notice anyway.

None of this shows on his face, however. Gurgle has long since learned that, in human company, he must be respectful even of those who do not entirely respect him. It is thus that he finds a warm-looking serving girl and asks, in his friendliest voice,

"I say, could it be possible for one in these parts to find a keg of good, stout ail and a wedge or two of cheese?"

There are advantages to being an endotherm on a warm summer's evening.

"Try some of the old John Barleycorn," Neville advised Violet. "He'll probably enjoy that; fibre, you know. And cheese ... have we got any of that Vastivan cheddar left?"

The pair fussed over their new customer, pleased to encounter such a well-behaved sentient; as Violet remarked, sotto voce, "What a contrast to the Green-Tentacled Thing."

But Neville began to worry. With his head poked through the window like that, a few rambling roses blowing around him on the warm evening breeze and Violet's cat posing fetchingly on the window-sill,the newcomer was looking almost cute. Certainly a greeting-card scene, at the very least. Recent events had given the bar-staff something of an aversion to "cute".

"Ask him in, ask him in," Neville prompted. "The Bar is very ... flexible, space-wise, the air-scrubbers are unparalleled and once he's belly-up to the bar he'll seem as normal as the rest of us."

Ah, but what is normal? a philosopher might have asked. It is normal for a flatulent dragon to have, as it were, exhaust emissions. It is normal for a smoker to light up. It is even within the bounds of normality for action A to coincide with action B -- for the production of flammable gases to coincide with the production of a naked flame ...

Events in the Bar proceeded normally.

Otterby stared with something approaching mild astonishment at Gurgle, wondering how it was he had never encountered a dragon in all his years in the navy. It certainly was an impressive beast and he noted its fine taste in its choice of cheese.

He finished his Guinness with a sigh, the election on the 8th of December in Compadria was looking less and less promising. His party were now 15% points behind their nearest rivals and were rooted in third place. He knew his tenure in the halls of the U.N. was drawing to a close and that he needed to start making arangements.

"So Sir", he remarked, adressing Gurgle, "where would you have come from then?"

The Yeldan ambassador enters the establishment and makes his way to the bar. He immediately discerns that the topic of conversation is cheese, specifically Vastivan Cheddar, a matter of some importance to the Yeldan government.
"Ah, Vastivan Cheddar! A world class cheese if ever there was one. I'll have a wedge of that and a pint of Guinness, please."

Hey Neville would like a batch of some of my "special brownies"?

Hodgelett was intrigued by this new delegate, and proceeded to introduce herself.
"Good evening...er...gentle-dragon. I'm Hodgelett, the Randomean delegate. Forgive me if it's an impertinent question, but has your race always been sentient? You see our national animal is our native Pearly dragon, quite protected in every way, they even feature on our national flag. It would be quite interesting if they would later evolve to be sentient beings as capable of running the country as my own race."

*Adaine bowed at Gurgle so low his nose almost touched the floor. the dragon was the symbol of the Avarhierrim nation, and on all their shields.*

Stephanie suddenly shocked back into movement.

"Dearie me, how long was I out for that time?" she asked of no-one in particular. She then glanced down at her mobile, and saw an urgent text message.

"Just brilliant. I finally regain my senses, and Enn's going into vacation mode. Just brilliant. Ah, well. Neville, get me an Ennish shandy for the road."

Then, addressing the crowd, "Well, I'm afraid I'm off. I hope to see you all sometime soon, possibly in a month or two."

"So Sir", he remarked, adressing Gurgle, "where would you have come from then?"

"Why, I am from the Dominion of Dastardly Stench, in the Magical Realm, and
have arrived through the permanent portal maintained by the Wasp's Estate
of Worsened Life only recently.

"It's a nation of sentient insects," he continues, letting a small social
statement of another kind issue forth. "Wasps can be quite
tempermental, mind you, but, if a skilled diplomat can convince them that
something is in their own best interests--say, the use of the U.N. Portal by
a few select dignitaries--then you shan't find a more loyal group of
creatures in this universe, or several others. I (pfffft!) sing their praises!"

With that, Gurgle bent his head down and took a good, stout drink from the
keg in front of him.

Hodgelett was intrigued by this new delegate, and proceeded to introduce herself.
"Good evening...er...gentle-dragon. I'm Hodgelett, the Randomean delegate. Forgive me if it's an impertinent question, but has your race always been sentient? You see our national animal is our native Pearly dragon, quite protected in every way, they even feature on our national flag. It would be quite interesting if they would later evolve to be sentient beings as capable of running the country as my own race."

*Adaine bowed at Gurgle so low his nose almost touched the floor. the dragon was the symbol of the Avarhierrim nation, and on all their shields.*

After another sip from the keg, Gurgle turned to the delegates, whom he
found to be inspiring. The wasps had never been this easy to communicate
with!

"I'm afraid that this varies from one subgenus to another," the dragon
replied. "In the case of my own species, we are not born sentient, but
some of us acquire the trait as we mature. I was rather lucky--raised by
a wizard, the (pfffft!) seat of whose intellect was rivaled only by the care
he felt for others in his heart. Thus, I was only about a century old when
I began to (pffft!) inflate the ranks of the sentient.

"So, tell me, gentle delegates," he continued, a fascinated grin spreading
over his face, "have you lived your whole life in this realm? I could certainly
stand to get a (pfffft!) whiff of an insider's perspective."

Sir Albert makes one of his rare quizzical frowns, looks around the room, inhales deeply and satisfies hisself that the smell isn't due to his armpits assuming a life of their own and going to the bar for a pint, but is indeed due to the dragon. At least this time anyway.......

The yellow-robed otaku from the Kawaiian Conclave of Beauty glanced over at Gurgle and arched an eyebrow. Setting aside his tape measure for a moment, he withdrew a small scroll from his robes and unrolled it on the bar. It appeared to be a diagram of NSUN headquarters, done in the form of a map--apparently cartography was a hobby of his. He took quill in hand and marked on the large blank area where the Strangers' Bar would be situated: "HERE BE DRAGONS".

Gurgle turned to the prostrate delegate.

"Stand up, man," he says. "How are we going to ever introduce ourselves if
we can't look each other in the eye? Besides, I understand that Avarhierrim and Dastardly Stench have similar governments. Tell me about your home."

Dastardly Stench']Gurgle turned to the prostrate delegate.

"Stand up, man," he says. "How are we going to ever introduce ourselves if
we can't look each other in the eye? Besides, I understand that Avarhierrim and Dastardly Stench have similar governments. Tell me about your home."

*Adaine went pale when he relsied the dragon could talk.*

" well Avarhierrim is a mixture of lush woods and wide fields. most of the poopulation are nomads, with the government and trading center in the city-Avem. we have the best horses in the world- everyone has their own herd. um govenrment- our leader is the Mage Thrael and no one has ever seen him. he started the school of Espinoge, Assaination and Mercenary. Apparently it was because Avarhierrim was having greater contact with other nations, and that they were dangerous. i dont know why the dragon is our national symbol because no dragon has ever been heard of in Avarhierrim"

Anybody want a batch of my "special" brownies?

*Adaine went pale when he relsied the dragon could talk.*

" well Avarhierrim is a mixture of lush woods and wide fields. most of the poopulation are nomads, with the government and trading center in the city-Avem. we have the best horses in the world- everyone has their own herd. um govenrment- our leader is the Mage Thrael and no one has ever seen him. he started the school of Espinoge, Assaination and Mercenary. Apparently it was because Avarhierrim was having greater contact with other nations, and that they were dangerous. i dont know why the dragon is our national symbol because no dragon has ever been heard of in Avarhierrim"

"That would explain the paleness around your gills, gentle delegate," the dragon replies.

"For my part, please let me offer my assurances that I am a diplomat and not a thug. I am no threat to you, sir. If I want something to eat, I'll order it off of the menu--speaking of which," he says, turning to the bartender, "I am to understand that the spit-roasted pig here is most excellent."

With that, the dragon gripped another wedge of cheese with its tongue and
engulfed it.

Of course, there would be high fun later. The cheese had undigested carbohydrates; the ale, active yeast cultures. Given the dragon's size and the fact that he was an endotherm, it would take a day or two, but...

Otterby wondered what had brought the Dragon to the U.N. Strangers Bar. It certainly (the bar that was) was in need of cheering up and becoming more lively. It had grown far too quiet in recent weeks and seemed perpetually empty. He wondered aloud it the Dragon liked Guinness.

"Well,' he asked eventually, plucking up the courage, "do you like Guinness Mr. Gurgle, oh and speaking of cheese, what do you think of Compadrian Cheddar, there's some on the counter over there."

Jeremy once again took up the mike and sang...........

wake up
(wake up)
Grab a brush and put on a little make up
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
(hide the scars to fade away the shakeup)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table
There you go create another fable
You wanted to
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
You wanted to
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table
I dont think you trust in my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die (die)
Wake up
(wake up)
Grab a brush and put on a little make up
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
(hide the scars to fade away the shakeup)
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table
There you go create another fable
You wanted to
Grab a brush and put on a little makeup
You wanted to
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup
You wanted to
Why'd you leave the keys up on the table
I dont think you trust in my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
Father father father father
Father into your hand i comend my spirit
Father into your hand why have you forsaken me in your eyes
Forsaken me in your thoughts
Forsaken me in your heart
Forsaken me ohh
Trust in my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die
In my self righteous suicide
I cry when angels deserve to die

After he sang that song he decided to sing another songs...........


Something takes a part of me
Something lost and never seen
Everytime I start to believe
Something's raped and taken from me... from me
Life's got to always be messing with me (You wanna see the light)
Can't they chill and let me be free? (So do I)
Can't I take away all this pain (You wanna see the light)
I try to every night, all in vain, in vain
Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see fall from grace
Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
I cheat, but for me to lie
Something takes a part of me
Feeling like a freak on a leash (You wanna see the light)
Feeling like I have no release (So do I)
How many times have I felt diseased? (You wanna see the light)
Nothing in my life is free, is free
Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see fall from grace
Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
I cheat, but for me to lie
Something takes a part of me
Boom na da mmm dum na ema
Da boom na da mmm dum na ema
GO!
So...fight! something on the...
Fight...some things they fight
So...something on the...
Fight...some things they fight
Fight...something of the
No...some things they fight
Fight...something of the...
Fight...some things they fight
Sometimes I cannot take this place
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste
Sometimes I cannot feel my face
You'll never see fall from grace
Something takes a part of me
You and I were meant to be
I cheat, but for me to lie
Something takes a part of me
Part of me..
Oh..


Jeremy the decided to sing one more song.........

Memories concern
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safer in my room
Unless I try to start again

I don't want to be the one
Who battles always choose
Cuz inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight

Cultured my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I have no options left again

I dont want to be the one
Who battles always choose
Cuz inside I realize
That I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight

I'll paint it on the walls
Cuz I'm the one that falls
I'll never fight again
and this is how it ends

I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
But now I have some clarity
to show you what I mean
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So, I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
Breaking the habit tonight

"the pig sounds fine"

*Adaine was still nervous talking to a talking dragon. he sent a message to the Mage Thrael and got an immediate response.*

Laughing wildly, Neville seized Jeremy's "special cookies" and began shoving them sideways down the Cybertorian delegate's throat.

"Now let's hear you sing!" he cackled. "Now let's hear you sing! Now let's hear ..."

Normal service will be resumed shortly.

Although no-one had taken up Jeremy's offer, the Cybertorian delegate seemed to have sampled his brownies thoroughly, or at least that seemed to have been the inspiration for the sudden barrage of songs. From behind his bar Neville seemed to be turning another odd colour. Something needed to be done quickly.
A quick search on her gadget brought up what Hodgelett was looking for, she pressed a few buttons and made her way to a quiet corner of the bar...well away from the GTT, as her intervention would probably make things tricky.
She waved to Jeremy, beckoning him over, and a quick signal to Violet indicating two glasses of whatever she fancied suitable were to be rought over. "Jeremy, I have a proposal for you" at the pricking up of ears across the Bar she added "no not that type of proposal...nor that one either!....and a drink."
Two gentlemen were brought over by her secretary, whose presence had become a lot less obvious with time, who silently took seats.
"Now, everyone is well aware of your musical...penchant shall I say? Have you ever considered moving on from karoke? Mister FFox here has expressed an interest in a record deal." she made placatory motions with her hands as the Cybertorian made an attempt to interrupt. "I'm not talking band work, or having your own songs written for you, but covers of various songs. The one condition that you rest your voice in between recording sessions. Practice is of course permitted, but not in a smoky environment" she gave a quick significant glance at Neville, who couldn't be but using yet another of his gadgets to listen in, or lipread or something, "nor one where you voice would be competing against others."
She stopped, and watched Jeremy's reactions.

Byron had a longer than usual walk to the front door of the bar as a huge beast had parked its ample bulk at the window closest to the bar. Reaching into his pocket he pulled a bumper sticker with the words "wide load" writen in a colourful playful font and he applied it to the base of the tail section.
He walked in and greeted everyone with his usual friendly "hey hey!"
"well then, I see we have failed to keep Jeremys warblings down" He snickered and ordered a Guiness for himself and what ever everyone else was having.
Byron was in ebuliant form and Nothing was going to ruin his Mood ... Not today. His delegation team were busy in the new offices he had gained on the 40th floor of the UN Building the repeals of resolution 70 and 106 waiting to be launched again.
So How is everyone this fine day he enquired sitting comfortably on his bar stool next to window with the protruding dragons dead.

"Byron", Otterby cried with joy, relieved to see a familiar face after spending so long without anyone to talk to. "How are you my good sir, it is wonderful to see you after so long having no-one recognisable to engage in polite conversation with."

He realised this was coming out as a rush and tried to calm down a little.

"You look well," Otterby continued, "if I may enquire, where have you passed these last few days away from this bar; I myself have been spending all my time in committee meetings and debates, so I've been coming here less than usual."

"Guinness please," he called to Neville.

"Byron", Otterby cried with joy, relieved to see a familiar face after spending so long without anyone to talk to. "How are you my good sir, it is wonderful to see you after so long having no-one recognisable to engage in polite conversation with."

He realised this was coming out as a rush and tried to calm down a little.

"You look well," Otterby continued, "if I may enquire, where have you passed these last few days away from this bar; I myself have been spending all my time in committee meetings and debates, so I've been coming here less than usual."

"Guinness please," he called to Neville.
"Why Thank you Leonard" Byron Replied. "I had been away from the UN on a Holiday to my Summer Residance and i Must say i am invigorated. Theres Nothing like a Hot mud Bath in our Geothermic Pools before breakfast every morning and its somthing i miss being here in the UN so often. So Back to work and im about to let loose with another attempt to repeal the now redundant Resolutions 70 and 106, not that the solar Panels hullaballoo is all but done. But before I do i just Want to Buy all the Delegates here a drink in a attempt to attain support. So Leonard i see you do not have your side kick with you. Where is holt these days?"

"Oh Anthony", Otterby chuckled, "he's had to go back to Compadria, something to do with illegal fundraising, oh don't worry" he added seeing Byron's startled expression, "he's not been indicted for anything, just called up as a witness. He'll be back in a few weeks."

He sipped his Guinness.

"I'd heard of these geothermic spots of yours, I once booked a holiday there, but the airline I was due to fly on was nationalised at the last minute (that happened a lot about 20 years ago) and they cancelled all their flights. I've always wanted to go there since, but I've never had the time. Oh and I'll take you up on your drinks offer; ever since that nasty spat you and I had after I accused you of Trojan Horse legislation, I've felt terribly guilty and I'd love to help you repeal the redundant legislation in question."

He smiled apologetically.

"By the way, what do you think of Gurgle, our newest resident, he's quite a charmer isn't he. Pity about the flatulence I suppose, but nevertheless, a dragon is quite something to have here, eh?"

it is wonderful to see you after so long having no-one recognisable to engage in polite conversation with

*Adaine was about to interrupt with a cough, then he remembered to keep out of the princes way. he also surmised that polite conversation was not something he had been doing till Gurgle. he had at least been polite to Vadia and the elves, but xenophobia made most of his other conversations rather offensive.*

"... nevertheless, a dragon is quite something to have here, eh?"

Neville had been keeping a worshipful eye on Hodgelett. He didn't know precisely what she was up to, but she had that expression on her face that showed she was Dealing With something. It surely wasn't fair that a woman could be so charming, so intelligent and so competent, all at once. However, Otterby's comment wrenched him from his reverie.

"All the same, I'm keeping the fire extinguisher handy," he said. "I don't know what the chemical composition of Gurgle's, um, exhaust gases, is, but I don't want to see what happens if someone walks by with a naked flame. Though, on the other hand, or rather at the other end, dragons themselves flame, don't they? So I suppose we'd have to assume that if it was going to happen, it would have happened, so evolution would have weeded out the flammable ones ..."

He was pursuing the thought further when he realised that he was being extremely rude, discussing someone's internal processes like that. The polite thing to do would be to ask and get it out the way.

"Ah, Gurgle, I don't want to be offensive, but I can't help but wonder: are you a fire hazard?"

"Ah, Gurgle, I don't want to be offensive, but I can't help but wonder: are you a fire hazard?"


"Not in the least," the dragon replied, pointed teeth showing as he tried his best to make a gracious smile, "nor am I the least bit offended. By the way, old chap, I didn't get your name. Would you mind telling me what it is?

"Oh, and excuse me for a moment."

He extended his long neck over to where Jeremy was standing and whispered so that only Jeremy could hear. The boy showed some promise. If he could be steered in the right direction, he might even have some potential as a poet. He needed to be taken out from himself and into the use of imagery, though. Gurgle decided to make a first attempt. His accent changed as he spoke.


The devil came up to da man
Put a coin in his hand.

Da man looked down at a dime
An' 'e saw a shine,

But da dime was way too small
An' 'cause a dat, all

Da man could see was his face.
It took him outta da race.

Da devil implored him,
Said he adored him
An' then just ignored him.



The dragon returned to the other conversations. He picked up the keg in front of him in his massive jaws and, lifting his head, chugged the remaining brew.

"Waiter, refill?"

Although no-one had taken up Jeremy's offer, the Cybertorian delegate seemed to have sampled his brownies thoroughly, or at least that seemed to have been the inspiration for the sudden barrage of songs. From behind his bar Neville seemed to be turning another odd colour. Something needed to be done quickly.
A quick search on her gadget brought up what Hodgelett was looking for, she pressed a few buttons and made her way to a quiet corner of the bar...well away from the GTT, as her intervention would probably make things tricky.
She waved to Jeremy, beckoning him over, and a quick signal to Violet indicating two glasses of whatever she fancied suitable were to be rought over. "Jeremy, I have a proposal for you" at the pricking up of ears across the Bar she added "no not that type of proposal...nor that one either!....and a drink."
Two gentlemen were brought over by her secretary, whose presence had become a lot less obvious with time, who silently took seats.
"Now, everyone is well aware of your musical...penchant shall I say? Have you ever considered moving on from karoke? Mister FFox here has expressed an interest in a record deal." she made placatory motions with her hands as the Cybertorian made an attempt to interrupt. "I'm not talking band work, or having your own songs written for you, but covers of various songs. The one condition that you rest your voice in between recording sessions. Practice is of course permitted, but not in a smoky environment" she gave a quick significant glance at Neville, who couldn't be but using yet another of his gadgets to listen in, or lipread or something, "nor one where you voice would be competing against others."
She stopped, and watched Jeremy's reactions.

I have accepted your proposal, please contact me for further details.

Otterby realised that he had fallen asleep as Byron was watching and shook himself awake with an embarrassed shudder.

Otterby realised that he had fallen asleep as Byron was watching and shook himself awake with an embarrassed shudder.
"Perhaps My friend you should take a nights refuge in the Bars sumptious bedrooms. Im sure Neville can easily prepare a room for you. The Dragon is indeed a fine beast and i am delighted to make its aquaintance. Neville if you will old friend another Keg for the Dragon and a Bed for Otterby. while were at it another round of drinks for the bar and make mine an Ennish Shandy."

"Toga!, Toga!, Toga!" said Jeremy of Cybertoria who was dressed in nothing but a toga, and was extremly drunk. (he had consumed a whole keg he smuggled from Neville's bar).

"You know, Neville," the dragon said, "just between you and me, the magical
realm could use some company. It's just us and the wasps anymore. We're
afraid the place is going to die out before too long--and it has so much to
offer this world. Dastardly Stench alone has a supply of (pfffft!) natural gas
that's nearly (pfffft!) inexhaustible. It would be a terrible shame if it were to
become inaccessible from this realm."

"Thank you Byron", Otterby said sleepily, "could you be so kind as to show us the way Neville."

"Of course," Neville said gruffly, but with a warm twinkle in his eyes, "follow me".

They went up a flight of stairs to a small furnished room with a soft and welcoming bed.

"Nighty-Night", Neville said and shut the door, whereupon Otterby changed into his pyjamas and climbed into the bed, falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow (which then hit him back).

Jeremy of cybertoria was so drunk, that he snuck behind Neville's bar and "borrowed" some, ok all of Neville's supply of Kentucky Burbon, and started drinking in vast gulps.

Disturbed from his sleep by a renewed bout of singing from Jeremy of Cybertoria, Otterby banged his foot on the floor and yelled a string of annoyed coments, before dozing off again.

Force Commander Amy Ackvick walks into the Bar, and orders a drink. She's been dealing with the major international crisis' that Militia Enforced State has been dealing with, ranging from regimine change, civil wars, to now nuclear wars between two countries. The thought of the world athmosphere being shattered by repeated nuclear blasts shudder her.

After consuming all that Kentucky Burbon, Jeremy was know hitting on every women in the bar, he kept it up even after all the slaps on the face from the female patrons because he was so drunk.....

Amy notices the very intoxicated Cybertorian diplomat and keeps an eye on him. She doesn't want to be messed around with, not right now. Especially since she's married.

Aaron Callopa, UN representative for the nation of CR Oscilloscopes sauntered into the pub. Finding a seat at the bar, he asked the barman for "The most expensive drink in the house.". Resting his elbows on the bar, he gazed around at the other representatives there. Weird lot he thought to himself, yet he smiled. He could have some fun here.

*Adaine threw a filthy look to the newcomer who was obviously not constrained by a budget, and watched Jeremy get slapped repeatedly.*

As Aaron looked around the bar he saw someone give him a jealous, dirty look. "I'm expecting to be called home soon," he explained "I'm just making the most of my remaining time." he raised his glass, which the barman had just delivered, to him and took a long sip. "Lurvely.".

In his drunken state, Jeremy fails to notice that he's getting close to Gurgle's... tail.

::Gurgle::

In a moment, he is enraptured in a pleasant slumber. It should last the night, but, if he takes after a small fraction of the human population, it could only put him out for a couple of minutes.

Gurgle gently removes the meat from the leg of the roast pig that the waiter has served. He continues to listen intently to his newfound friend talk of his clan's herd of horses. Gurgle has never dealt with horses that can't talk, and is taken aback by his fellow delegate's expertise in handling these powerful animals. Still, he is ignorant on the subject, and can offer only admiriation in return for his newfound friend's expertise.

Gurgle notices two newcomers enter the bar--and go off to separate places. He decides to speak with each of them, if they will have him. Though his friend is enchanting, he has business to attend to: Dastardly Stench has natural gas to export, and the magical realm is in danger of losing its connection to this one.

As he has spoken with only male humans previously, he decides to start with the female one.

"Greetings, madam," he says in his friendliest voice. "My name is Gurgle, and I hail from the Dominion of Dastardly Stench...and you needn't worry about me hitting on you. My interests are purely in matters of international trade and diplomacy."

===============================

OOC:

Cyberton, forgive my tampering. You can continue to ignore me if you want. In fact, I even gave you an easy out if you want to just wake Jeremy up and start him on another March of boorish Obnoxiousness. Your call.

the Kirisuban delegate enters after making another speech.

heading to the bar he orders a cup of green tea and looks round him, bowing to everyone in the room.

after sampling the tea he smiles and complements the bar staff.

"good tea"

Jeremy after wakeing up decided to ask Neville for a drink of burbon.

The Dastardly Stench Delegate, Gurgle the Dragon, returns the Kirisuban delegate's bow, head swept low.

The repeated sound of slaps from below added speed to Neville's feet as he galloped back down the stairs after tucking Otterby in. There was evidently a sudden rush of custom, and it wasn't fair to leave Violet to deal with it alone.

He was glad, though, that someone else had answered that "most expensive drink in the house" order he'd just overheard. After all, "expense" was merely a concept. He could have served up Clayton's and water, but charged more for it than he would have for the finest product of Telidia's secretive vintners. Or he could have made it "expensive" in terms of career, or physical pain, or ...

Firmly suppressing such un-Barlord-like thoughts, he skidded to a stop behind the bar and was reassured to see that the slapping sound was simply Nature, or possibly evolution, taking its course with Jeremy. Let's see, several new delegates, that interesting dragon (to whom he hadn't had a proper chat yet), and ...

"Dicey! You're back again! Where's Bast?"

The co-president of Ardchoille yawned hugely. "He's just popped in to Madame Gazunda's. There's a kitten of his there, he likes to keep a fatherly eye on her." Dismissing such boring parental concerns, Dicey looked shyly sideways. "Who's the ... dragon?" Her voice fluttered slightly.

Aha! Neville had spent many long, maudlin sessions hearing Dicey's tales of her first major diplomatic coup, the resolution of an unwarranted attack on The Heavenly Dragon. Dicey and the Dragon had hit it off bigtime, albeit platonically. Well, it was a slow Barlord who couldn't take a hint ...

"Er ... Excuse me, Gurgle, Madame," said Neville, with a nod to the new delegate in the military uniform, "I'd like you both to meet the co-president of Ardchoille, Dicey Riley. Dicey is a Firewitch and her fellow delegate and Feline Adviser, Bast, is a Magical Creature. May I renew your drinks? As this is your first visit, Madame, they are, naturally, on the house ..."

Burbling away about the manifold attractions of the Bar, Neville sized up the woman delegate. She seemed unfazed by the presence of witches, dragons and, by implication, large talking cats, but you never could tell with the military.

settling by the bar the Kirisuban ambassador at large pinched his nose feeling a headache coming on.

Captain Kaigan Miromuta, wearing his dark blue Kirisuban army uniform and insignia as well as his katana sips gratefully at the tea and leaves his hat on the bar as he looks round after a trying a few days of debates and trying to persuade other delegates.

his cell phone goes off and a brief conversation in his native language with his assistant ensues.

Despite the bad news he sticks to his tea thinking that he may well be better off with some saki.

noting the presence of the dragon he shrugs his shoulder and wonders how it could get any worse here..

'Who'd think record contracts would be such a hassle?' Hodgelett thought to herself as she went through the familiar doors. While Jeremy just needed to sign on the dotted line, behind the scenes a huge load of technical red tape meant everything took 500 times longer than it should. Long enough for Jeremy to get totally drunk apparently. But it was all settled, with the lawyers happily leaving with a fat wedge of notes, Dr. Ffox had a lucrative contract, Jeremy would be gracing the shelves of a music store near you - and finally the Strangers' Bar would have some peace temporarily.
Which was about to be disturbed abruptly as she recognised the rounded silhouette of a certain witch by the bar. It was with a rather overloud squeal that she tapped the Ardchoillian co-pres on the shoulder then threw her arms around her. "Well I never Dicey, what have you been doing with yourself? You seemed to be permanently just out of reach, it's just not on. It's not as if Ben Chifley's even thought to keep us informed," she noticed that she'd just interrupted introductions. "Greetings again Gurgle, how do you do erm..." she hesitated as she tried to work out the number of pips on the young lady's collar, "Lieutenant? I'm Ms Hodgelett Tirith from Randomea."

"I don't know about the others," the Dragon said, "but my keg's empty.

"So, ladies, you've got me at a loss. How is it that you came to make
each other's aquaintance? And you've got a fellow magical with you?
Well--I mean, I can't cast spells or anything, but...I was raised by a
wizard. In fact, I owe my pedigree and diplomatic leanings entirely to
the man's tutilage. It was a sad day when he passed the realm of the
living.

"And please tell me, madam, is there a place where magic works in this world?"

another cup of tea (and a few headache tablets) later Kaigan is ready to make his move and to introduce himself properly starting with the dragon.

he goes over to the knot of people and says bowing "Konbawa fellow delegates, my name is Captain Miromuta and I represent the interests of Kirisubo"

The Un Delegate from Harlandu, region of Kazham strides into the bar. Taking a look around and approving of what he sees he strides to the local message board for delegates and post a notice asking for review of his new proposal, The Human Rights Choice Act. Then noting the general decorum of the room, makes his war to the bar and orders a lager.

Hey Neville, dose this bar have a pinball machine?

Hey Neville, dose this bar have a pinball machine?
Byron looks up temporarly distracted from the Pinball machine game "United Nations Pinball", his ball bouncing off the "Red Tape" barrier slipping down the "Failed to reach Quorum" gulley into oblivion in a stream of whoops and flashing lights. Several dings later as the tally of UN points rolled on the electronic display a Ball appeared ready for a second deployment.
:D

After waiting for several minutes, (Byron was very good), Jeremy put in a quarter and decided to play, Jeremy was not doing so well, so he decided to tilt the machine.

Dastardly Stench']"And please tell me, madam, is there a place where magic works in this world?"

"Loads!" said Dicey, carelessly. "There's all the nations that send their adepts to The White Tower (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=378306). Or there's us, Ardchoille -- you might like to visit our University at the capital, Ardrigh, there's a pretty good pub there, too. And I think I made a list once ..."

She rummaged in her dillybag and produced a scruffy piece of paper folded like a paper plane: "Yes, here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=400429) we are!"

Scribbling on it, Dicey handed it over, somewhat shyly, to the dragon. "I'd be happy to discuss it in detail with you sometime soon. I've put my mobile number there. But, Neville," she said reproachfully, "why didn't you tell me Hodgelett was here?"

Embarrassed, she turned back to the group at the table. "I'm so sorry, but I do hope you'll forgive us? We're old friends, and we haven't met in ... oh, ages! And I know how boring it is listening to someone else's catchups, so ... if you'll excuse us ..."

Still apologising, she bore Hodgelett away to the bar, where a smiling Violet had already set up a bottle of Ardchoille Old 'n' Funky.

The smile was a mile wide; Violet always found Neville's attempts to organise other people's social lives highly entertaining.

(Vicki-Y arrives to the UN Stranger Bar. She never been to a stranger bar, she never even been to a bar. She heard that the bar is a diginifed place of debate, and that it is a place of greatness...

She thinks a 'party' should be held to help further the goals of SLI Sector in supporting International Federalism. Since she had never been out of her nation until the UN Act of 214, she doesn't know what a party is...but people in the "Outdoors" do it all the time. She'll proberly just improvise as she goes along...

She is very nervous, but she'll handle it. Hopefully. That why she was sent to be a UN delegate.)

(enters)

"Uh....hello, cit-fellow delgates. My name is Vicki-Y. Uh, can I request for some refreshments to be consumed in a manner that is believed to be in decorum for this room?"

having made his introductions Kaigan perks up his ears and spies a newcomer.

"excuse me" he says and goes over to Vicki-Y.

"i may be able to help you on that point" she says smiling "theres nothing to be nervous about.

If you want a drink you just ask at the bar.

by the way i'm Kaigan Miromuta, the delegate from the Kirisuban Empire"

"Nice to meet you Kaigan.

Yeah, I was thinking of having a party here, to celeberate the defeat of the WEA'. Are you here for that? Good, because SLI Sector is all for International Federalism and for the betterment of the UN. Let us have a...toast to the future UN!"

(goes up to the bar)

"Uh, hello bar. Can I have...a glass of clean water? With ice? I heard it's a delicacy here, very rare indeed. How much does it cost? And what clearance is that glass?"

"waters generally free" Kaigan replies and orders a cup of green tea.

"that debate kept me very busy as well. I thought i was going to have to draft a repeal a few days ago but at least we can get back to dealing with senisble ideas again"

The tea and water arrives and Kaigan raises his cup.

"to the future UN"

"To the future UN!" Vicki-Y toasts and then drinks the water. (It tastes good.)

"Can I order another glass of water? It is very tasty."

"And, yeah, I just made a suggestion to have nations donate forces to help out the UN (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=449442). Surely, if we are going to have a new UN, we must enforce its laws and protect fellow UN members. You heard speculations of those people who hate the UN? Lots of people say that it must die. Horrors, isn't it?

And, you have any suggestions for propsals for the new UN? I'm interested in ideas."

Kaigan takes pulls a bar stool for Vicki-Y, sits on one himself and leaves his dark blue formal Kirisubo army cap on the bar beside his tea.

"to be honest Vicki-Y san I'm new at this myself. i was only appointed my nations UN Ambassador a few weeks ago and am still trying to work out this place works.

normally I would be a samurai-officer in my nations army but I have a few ideas of my own. I like proposals that benefit smaller developing nations such as fair trade and sensible social action proposals.

Off course If the cabinet sends me instructions on their views I have to debate with those as my guide"

"True, true...I was at a plush job working as Internal Security 'till they sent me here, well, actually I had a myraid of jobs. I started out at HPD&MC working in the food vats, then had a stint in Troubleshooting, then got transferred to CPU to process fourms, and then finally got transferred to IS. Very long story."

Kaigan drinks some of his green tea, nods and then says "Sounds like you've had an interesting career. I've commanded an armoured brigage and served as the Kirisuban military liasaon to the Gatesville militia.

We only joined the UN very recently after moving regions to Gatesville.

The first Ambassador was recalled because of a scandal back home. I was a surprised as anyone when I was given the job.

At least I can't go wrong with the directive I was given"