NationStates Jolt Archive

Sammy stifled a laugh as he watched the Brawling Blondes on the floor, clawing and scratching at each other. The deputy ambassador from the Federal Republic had just attacked the High Holy Heir of Gruenberg -- the whole thing ought to have set off an alarm in him but it didn't. He had to smile at the Warring Whores, but then, having so soon run out of amusing titles for the situation, he remembered the long and boring lecture he'd have to endure later from Sec. Tehrani -- and all that damn paperwork he'd have to fill out if one of them got seriously injured.

But the pair rolling around on the ground in front of him were just one Big Blond Blur (OK, there was another amusing title); which Violent Vixen was his? Jess had been the one wearing the lavendar top, hadn't she? Yes, that was her. He stooped down and grabbed the girl, only to have her scream, "Aughhh!! Get off me, you fucking pervert!" and slap him hard. Oops. Wrong blonde.

The adrenaline had killed off Jessie's buzz; she groaned as one the Gruenbergers -- the one with the moustache -- helped her off the ground. Right in front of her the ambassador from Gruenberg had just assaulted the ambassador from Omigodtheykilledkenny; yet, she was strangely unaffected by it all. Although, any situation not involving her rack and a bottle of whipped cream left her surprisingly underwhelmed.

"God, Sammy!" she interjected. "You just couldn't wait to get your hands on the hot little royal, could you?!"

Jianna guffawed in disgust and pulled away from the lecherous fiend. "You're Sammy? The one Rono was talking about! You're that freak who wouldn't stop staring at me during orientation!"

"You had spinach in your teeth ..." Sammy began.

"It wasn't my mouth you were staring at!"

"... And a giant hicky on your collarbone ..."

"Oh, that's nothing, Jianna!" Jessie offered. "You should see all the naked women he has on his computer!"

"Wait a second. Riley was the one who left all that stuff ..."

"Right, Sammy!" the deputy interrupted. "Blame the mental patient!" The girls shared an appalled laugh.

"C'mon, Jianna," Jessie proposed; "let's get out of here. I saw the hottest club just down the street when I was trying to find one of those made-up sporting events the mission had scheduled. I know for a fact they don't let jerks like Sammy in!"

The liquor Jianna had been injesting just minutes before must have been a Norderian brand. "Hells yeah!" she declared. "Let's blow this joint!"

The giggling hotties left Sammy to share awkward glances with the Gruenbergers. "Bye, Jianna--er, Highness, Princess," the boy attempted pathetically after them.

The twain had made it all the way to the door, when the returning mob of horny Kennyites intercepted them. "Whoooo!!! Who's your friend, Jess??!! Show us your boobs!!"

Sammy smiled maliciously. Take that, you fucking skanks, he said triumphantly to himself as he turned toward a side exit.

[OOC note: Gruenberger characters used with permission.]

Hodgelett raised an eyebrow in Violet's direction. "Glad to see it's not just the men who make complete asses of themselves isn't it? I think we need a distraction as it were." Hodgelett eyed the Kwaiian priestesses warily. "in the furthest corner from them."

5 minutes later, behind a large screen was a kidney-shaped green baize table, with a final year student of the NS International Croupier School deftly shuffling packs of cards behind it, a pile of chips at his elbow.
"Baccarat is now available ladies and gentlemen. There are some rules however, each chip can be cashed at the bar for anything from a drink to a day's supply of drinks. However, chips can not be purchased on your tab, or come out of governement budgets, it has to come straight from your personal accounts. If you are into your overdraft Violet will refuse to sell."

"Be ready for a storm in a teacup" she added as an aside.

Fisnishing the Johnny Walker Blue, the Master turned to Amber, "Perhaps this is not the best time to introduce you to them afterall. I will definitely have to update my notes when I get back to the office, I mean the starbucks. I didn't realize the critical mass levels for blondes was so low. Only two are needed in close proximity in order to have an explosive reaction. ... Oh have I said anything offensive?"

"Not at all," Amber replied. "I'm not blonde, but I'm generally forgiving of familiarial sterotypes. Being from both the line of Red and Brown I've endured plenty of Red jokes myself. I'm mean just because I'm part red doesn't mean I have to be 'girl genius.' I'm happy with being just exceptionally talented and gifted. Speaking of which I'm hungry. Does the UN have any good sushi resturants by any chance?"

"I know a good one a few blocks from here. It's an odd combination of sports bar and sushi resturant. I think there might even be a Yankees rerun being played."

*Adaine had just returned from work to find two blonde girls fighting on the floor, when he had skirted round them and found a table they were the best of friends. he would never understand females*

Yukiko Uehara returned to the bar her head spinning.

'Kaigan and Midori make this job look so easy' she thought as she sat beside Raiko who introduced her to the observer from bears armed. Raiko also tells her about the catfight.

'Barbarians' she thinks as she drinks her beer and tries to relax so she can take in what she's learned so far..

The paladins had left quite some time ago, missing most of the subsequent action. Such was usually the case, at least for Serph, whose presence often induced if not a sense of calm, a sense of "let's not mess about and ruin the nice Chief Paladin's day, shall we?"

Jevo, Lord Telovar, had just inherited the post of UN Ambassador from the newly elected Kriovalian Senate. He was unsure of whether to celebrate the appointment or lament the time spent away from home. In any case, it was definitely time for a drink. Besides, it was one of the few times that his wife, the lovely yet sharp-tongued Christine Barro, leader of the far left Kriovalian Frontier political party, was able to join him. Jevo was unsure whether this was an incitement to drink or an admonition to control himself.

The re-entry of the Chief Paladin pushed the balance toward the first.

Wolfgang 013 walked in and sat down at the bar, slightly dejected from the failure of the current resolution. "Sparkling grape juice, please."
Noting the bartender's funny look at him, he explained, "Us wolves don't drink, but we do like to keep up appearances. So, other than that bit of a fight, anything exciting happening?"

Mr. Dounhour, a new delegate, had just recently heard of the Strangers’ bar. After a quick, courteous nod to Wolfgang 013, “I know how you feel….” Mr. Dounhour proceeds to the bar.
“I’d like two Sapphire martinis, no vermouth, extra dirty, and can I get them both in a Red Dixie cup.” People of Kethland believe that only beer and wine belong in a glass. Then Mr.Dourhour notices the dart boards over in the corner. He barrows a few darts from the bartender and has a go at the board. The first dart….thunk…“Double 20!!” The day is looking better already. The second dart…thunk.. “20… well its better than 1” The third dart… clack, thunk. Mr. Dounhour looks down to see the dart stick in the floor after rebounding off a bar. “well… at least it wasn’t my foot.”
He returns the darts to the bartender after a not so disappointing game and heads for the door. One of the beauties of the red Dixie cup, you can always take a traveler. Well, as long as you’re not in Utah that is.

Sir Albert sighs, wobbles off his chair, meanders to the bar and balancing hisself between Hodgelett and that strange Dicewhatshername (if only he could remember her name) he does the polite thing....

"Here, Neville, double my pint order for the next hour, I hear someone ordered a non-alcoholic drink, got to keep the average consumption up old chap"

The Monk and his new aide walked into the bar. "I can't believe the repeal failed," the Monk complained to Amber, "And by such a wide margin."

"Well at least we can still do things in the privacy of our own homes," Amber replied.

"I suppose," the Monk replied. "But I would have liked to be able to do it intelligently. I need a vacation. I suppose you saw Tzorsland before you were assigned here. What did you think of it?"

"It was," Amber said pausing a moment to consider the proper response, "Interesting."

"Yes it is," the Monk replied. "That is why I am here and not there. No we need a good vacation, a few days of R&R with people who are strange in a good way. I have it, let's go to a mythical land of 'Indy' where strange people called 'nerds' are having a whole weekend of games! It's called 'Gen Con.'"

"It sounds interesting," Amber said, smiling. "Do they have sushi resturants?"

"But of course!"

Wolfgang chuckled at the foreign word, "nerd," but made a note in his tiny computer about the event, which he figured his countrymen would enjoy, being avid gamers of anything they got their claws on. He also asked it what this "sushi" was and quickly decided it sounded nasty. It did make him want orange chicken and fried rice, though. Badly. Funny, really, considering it didn't exist, to his knowledge. He asked the computer if it knew where to get it.

Bloody hell, he thought, I hate interdimensional travel.

. . . Once there, he sat down, filled the air with the scent of Hickory and Cedar, and waited for Neville to arrive.

The life of a Barlord is packed with demands on his time. It seemed to Neville almost as if a full eight days had passed before he could get away to see Gurgle, though he knew it must have been less than half an hour.

With a flourish, he drew forth a pair of crystal glasses. No pretentious nonsense about brandy balloons here. Reverently he opened the gleaming bottle, prayerfully he breathed in the bouquet, worshipfully he filled the gleaming glasses.

"Here's cheers!" he intoned solemnly (Georgian plain-song, actually). Together the secret celebrants consumed a symbolic sip of the sacred liquor.

"You did it!" breathed Neville. "Gurgle, you actually did it! Zamundan Brandy is saved for for a grateful world! Now, I wonder just how grateful ..."

NEVILLE, THIS IS YOUR CONSCIENCE SPEAKING. ZAMUNDAN BRANDY IS A GIFT. YOU SURELY WOULD NOT EVEN CONSIDER COMMERCIAL EXPLOITATION OF SUCH A RESOURCE? CONSIDER WHAT IT DID FOR THE KRIOVALIANS! IMAGINE WHAT IT COULD DO FOR NATIONS EVERYWHERE! NEVILLE,YOU MUST SHARE IT WITH A WAITING WORLD ...

Shaddup, spoilsport! Make a mint out of it, kid! Anyway, think of the things you could do with the money. You could always give a bit to charity to shut up ol' whineypants there and still have plenty left over for mansions and Ferraris and such ...

His eyes whirling madly, Neville continued his inner dialogue while Gurgle's larger frame was still dealing with the brew's initial effects.

Meanwhile, out in the Bar ...

"Wheeee!" giggled Violet, leaning over to rake in the losers' chips and shamelessly exploiting the low-cut neckline of her red satin gown. The even lower-cut back of her gown did its own exploiting.

"Hodgelett, this was a brilliant idea!"

The Wolf Guardians']Wolfgang 013 walked in and sat down at the bar, slightly dejected from the failure of the current resolution. "Sparkling grape juice, please."
Noting the bartender's funny look at him, he explained, "Us wolves don't drink, but we do like to keep up appearances. So, other than that bit of a fight, anything exciting happening?"

Borrin o Redwood, hearing the words "us wolves", turns to see whether this is indeed another non-'human' speaking...

The first few days at the UN had been alright for the man dressed all in black. He enjoyed (if this man ever enjoyed anything) sitting in the corner of the bar observing the scene.

Jean de Brex was the younger brother of Bezad's President. So far everything seemed to be alright for the former commander of Bezad's army. He ordered another drink and continued observing...

His eyes whirling madly, Neville continued his inner dialogue while Gurgle's larger frame was still dealing with the brew's initial effects.

Meanwhile, out in the Bar ...
"Wheeee!" giggled Violet, leaning over to rake in the losers' chips and shamelessly exploiting the low-cut neckline of her red satin gown. The even lower-cut back of her gown did its own exploiting.

Meanwhile, at one end of the actual bar, a rather complex cocktail appreaed to be assembling itself...

Invisible Wabbits']Meanwhile, at one end of the actual bar, a rather complex cocktail appreaed to be assembling itself...[OOC: OK, so is this TBNW, or Norderia?

Borrin o Redwood, hearing the words "us wolves", turns to see whether this is indeed another non-'human' speaking...
Wolfgang got that eerie feeling he was being looked at, and nonchalantly swivelled his head around, scanning the room with his genetically engineered eyes. He found the source, one of his fellow nonhuman humanoids. A bear. In a top hat, no less.
Unique, he thought.

Casandra slowly walked into the Strangers Bar. It looked like she had been crying. She had make-up streaked down her face. She made her way over to the bar.

"Give me the strongest thing you have please."

The bartender handed her something that resembled swamp water, and most likely tasted about as good.

" How nice." She thought to herself as she searched for an empty table. Finding one, she sat down and looked around. She noticed a few familiar faces, but no one she really wanted to talk to at this point. As she sat thinking about her failed repeal, she heard someone calling her. She looked towards the door and noticed that it was her assistant.

" I thought that I might find you here."

"What the hell do you want Lacey?"

"Just wanted to give you your messeges. You have five or six of them. You really should return your calls."

"If they have anything to do with the bloody repeal, I do not want them. I sick of people telling me how happy they are about it failing."

"These are the nice ones Casandra. There are some people who are dissapointed that it failed."

"Oh, I see. Have you and the others started working on redrafting the repeal?"

"Yes. But I don't see why we should do it so soon."

"Why? Well my dear, because I said so. That should be the only reason that you need."

"Right. Well then, I guess I should get back to work."

" Yes you should. I would very much like to be left alone. If anyone else sends a messege about how much they hate me and my fascist ways, tell them where they can shove it."

"And that would be where?"

"Up their bloody arse, that where! One more thing Lacey. Find out how the hell I can get myself noticed around this place."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Find out how I can get noticed by others. I don't think being mean is working out too well. You're my assistant, so assist me with this."

I'll see what I can do Ms.Chase. I will see you back at the office. Please don't over do it on the drinks."

"Whatever Lacey. Leave now."

(OOC) This is my first attempt at this. Be gentle.

Wolfgang overheard "Ms. Chase", as he heard her name was, and sympathized.
"Sorry about the repeal!" he called. "We were with you all the way."

Raiko had notices a new delegate enter who seemed in distress.

it had been ironic that her ambassador had voted against the repeal since he usually voted for repeals but that was the nature of the NSUN. Something could always surprise you here.

She walks over to Ms Chase and asks softly "is there something I can help you with" a sympathetic look on her young oriental face.

Casandra was pulled back from her daydream.

"Thank you sir. I hope to have your support in the future."

"Hmmm. Wolves. How nice."

Amidst the goings on around her, including the bear accosting the wolf and the drink that seemed to be consuming itself (she was certain that, were he still there, Moltan Bausch (ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Moltan_Bausch) would be the only one to see whoever or whatever was responsible for the miracle), Cmdr. Chiang noticed the young woman grousing at her assistant.

Audaciously approaching her, she introduced herself to the ambassador. "I couldn't help but overhear your predicament," she said. "Being noticed has never really been a problem for me in my line of work. Maybe some of my wardrobe would do the trick? You of course are free to scour it if you have some free time -- I got some pasties and a zebra thong and a Jennifer Lopez-esque see-through gown (http://images.ibsys.com/2001/0326/558465.jpg) that would suit you perfectly! With tits like those, my dear, you shouldn't be smothering them. Incidentally, my employers are always seeking out good girls with bad reputations; maybe once you've retired from this gig, you can give them a call?"

She produced a business card, and having already foisted her company on the poor weeping envoy, elected to grab a chair beside her and extend their conference, setting her glass of Jameson on the table. "That's funny," she said, looking off into the distance. "Dicey left Amb. Radey here! ... Uh-oh! She's coming this way! ... Pretend you don't see her!" she advised her new friend. "Make like you're mesmerized by the invisible wabbit over there!"

Raiko having been ignored mutters and heads back to the bar but she sees a man in black observing whats going on.

she heads over to Ambassador De Brex and smiles.

"Hi, I'm Raiko from the Empire of Kirisubo" she says to him

[OOC: OK, so is this TBNW, or Norderia?
OOC: Kenny, if you want to know who it is check page 6 of the puppet thread in the DEFCON forums.

Casandra was pulled back from her daydream.

"Thank you sir. I hope to have your support in the future."

"Hmmm. Wolves. How nice."

"If anyone has offended you, Avarhierrim will be happy to have them assasinated, free of charge." *Adaine said as he whipped out an order for assination from*

Taking the business card and eyeing her new "friend" with suspiscion, tucked it into her purse.

"Thank you for the kind offer. I might have to take you up on that. Wait a minute! Who said that I have a bad reputation? Oh, it doesn't matter."

Casandra shifted in her chair a little. " When could I look through your wardrobe? I've been meaning to buy some new clothes, but just haven't had the time lately."

It had appeared, to Serph at least, that the woman who had complained of near-invisibility only minutes earlier was now being swarmed by well-wishers. "One should take caution in what one wishes," he said slowly, mostly to himself. A few steps away, Jevo shivered slightly. There was *something* about the Chief that made the new ambassador uncomfortable. Some spoke of "The Incident", enunciated clearly with capital letters, and the paladin's hair turning almost silver in the intervening months had the tinge of portent to it.

Jevo's attention turned momentarily toward Neville, the bartender, who appeared to be lost in deep concentration. Whispering, the ambassador quipped, "I sense a great disturbance in the Force. It is as if Neville has had an independent thought, but was suddenly silenced." To his credit, the Chief Paladin snickered. A good sign, and it dispelled the tension between them.

Raiko having been ignored mutters and heads back to the bar but she sees a man in black observing whats going on.

Serph motioned to Jevo to follow, and the slightly older man complied. They kept a respectful distance from the Asian woman, who seemed to have been rebuffed from the newcomer. In Krioval, it was considered unseemly to leave a diplomat to his or her solitude, unless such was desired, and the prospect of opening relations with another Eastern power pushed them further forward. Silently, they waited either for a signal to approach or another to depart.

"And what line of work would that be?" Casandra shifted again. This new "friend" was making her feel a little uncomfortable. Of course, a new line of work sounded pretty good at the moment. "But, why quite the job I have now? Why can't I do both?" Casandra asked with a wry smile.

"I'm pretty sure that I could work my schedule so that I would be able to take on both jobs. You have to tell me what I need to do Ms...I'm sorry, what was your name again and who exactly are your employers?"

"Seems like you weren't the only one starved for attention," cracked Chiang to Chase as the former watched the Kirisuban shuffle off.

Taking the business card and eyeing her new "friend" with suspiscion, tucked it into her purse.

"Thank you for the kind offer. I might have to take you up on that. Wait a minute! Who said that I have a bad reputation? Oh, it doesn't matter.""You did," the commander answered, "when you said people have been terming you 'fascist.' Now I don't know if that's true, and we in the Federal Republic pride ourselves in our strong democratic, lunatic tradition, but we're always seeking out allies to help advance our cause."

"And what line of work would that be?" Casandra shifted again. This new "friend" was making her feel a little uncomfortable. Of course, a new line of work sounded pretty good at the moment. "But, why quite the job I have now? Why can't I do both?" Casandra asked with a wry smile.

"I'm pretty sure that I could work my schedule so that I would be able to take on both jobs. You have to tell me what I need to do Ms...I'm sorry, what was your name again and who exactly are your employers?""Commander Jenny Chiang," the woman icily corrected the ambassador. "That's my name, and my game is national defense: 'To protect and secure the Federal Republic, by any obscene act necessary.'" She smiled cockily as she took a sip from her glass of Jameson. "It's rather a time-consuming profession, and, shall we say, seductive? I can understand your enthusiasm." She laughed.

She rolled her eyes as she beheld the Kirisuban and the Kriovalians timidly studying each other from a distance. "Silly Easterners and their customs," she scoffed. "In the Federal Republic we got rid of all our customs, and we're just as decent and well-mannered as ever!" She downed the last of her Jameson and slammed the glass onto the table, burping loudly. "Damn, that stuff's smooth!" she bellowed satisfacorily.

She grabbed her waistline suddenly. "But this thong is fucking killing me! I gotta go up to the office to change. You're welcome to tag along if you like," she informed Chase. "You did say you'd like to see some of my collection, didn't you? Well, whatever's in my closet is yours; within reason, if course. In my job, I don't have much need for clothes ... well, not for long, anyway."

"You did," the commander answered, "when you said people have been terming you 'fascist.' Now I don't know if that's true, and we in the Federal Republic pride ourselves in our strong democratic, lunatic tradition, but we're always seeking out allies to help advance our cause."

"Right. I was trying to forget that. No it's not true. I am not a fascist." She took a rather large drink of the 'swamp water' she had been sipping at for the last little while. "What the hell can I do to help advance your cause?"

"Commander Jenny Chiang," the woman icily corrected the ambassador. "That's my name, and my game is national defense: 'To protect and secure the Federal Republic, by any obscene act necessary.'"

"Um...sorry Commander Chiang. I know all about protecting things at any cost, but that's a story for another time. I'd like to hear more about the Federal Republic, I mean if you're willing to tell." She was feeling more and more uncomfortable. Maybe it was the alcohol. She doesn't usually drink, but she was stressed and needed to relax. This woman wasn't helping either.

She smiled cockily as she took a sip from her glass of Jameson. "It's rather a time-consuming profession, and, shall we say, seductive? I can understand your enthusiasm." She laughed.

"Seductive? Interesting."

She rolled her eyes as she beheld the Kirisuban and the Kriovalians timidly studying each other from a distance. "Silly Easterners and their customs," she scoffed. "In the Federal Republic we got rid of all our customs, and we're just as decent and well-mannered as ever!" She downed the last of her Jameson and slammed the glass onto the table, burping loudly. "Damn, that stuff's smooth!" she bellowed satisfacorily.

"There aren't too many customs left......." Casandra stared in disbelief as the Commander belch rather loudly. "Okay then. Would you like another Commander?"

She grabbed her waistline suddenly. "But this thong is fucking killing me! I gotta go up to the office to change. You're welcome to tag along if you like," she informed Chase. "You did say you'd like to see some of my collection, didn't you? Well, whatever's in my closet is yours; within reason, if course. In my job, I don't have much need for clothes ... well, not for long, anyway."

"I'd be happy to tag along. Just let me finish my drink and then we can go. Are you sure that your clothing will fit me?" She downed the rest of her drink and tried her best to prepare herself for what she was about to do. Maybe Commander Chiang isn't so bad. It's good to make new friends, even if they are a little crude.

"What the hell can I do to help advance your cause?" ...

"Um...sorry Commander Chiang. I know all about protecting things at any cost, but that's a story for another time. I'd like to hear more about the Federal Republic, I mean if you're willing to tell.""That's what foreign ministries are for, my dear. I'll put you in touch with our State Department (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=454422); they'll answer any questions you may have."

"I'd be happy to tag along. Just let me finish my drink and then we can go. Are you sure that your clothing will fit me?""Well, just look at my figure (http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/kessler071.jpg), silly! Whatever doesn't fit you exactly I'm sure will stretch quite nicely. Cute little body like yours demands some accentuation."

Wolfgang had to chuckle once again, this time at Commander Chiang's belch. He thoroughly enjoyed just hanging out here. He was essentially earning credits with the Commonwealth just to be here. Drunk people are the most entertaining. He tapped out a note on "Commander Jenny Chiang" in his minicomputer, adding to the growing list of information his engineered hearing gathered since he entered. He still wondered about what the bear had on his mind, though. He hadn't said a word to anyone in the entire time Wolfgang had been here.

The silver-haired man whispered something to Jevo, who nodded silently. Serph walked slowly toward the women, who were variously discussing military matters and belching. He regarded Commander Chiang. "Are you feeling quite all right this afternoon?" Not particularly interested in the response, he continued. "What was all this about customs? The protocols of other nations interest me." The Chief Paladin ran his left hand through his hair as he scanned his would-be conversation partners. Not bad, he thought. Quite a few men back home would appreciate their forms.

Raiko having been ignored mutters and heads back to the bar but she sees a man in black observing whats going on.

she heads over to Ambassador De Brex and smiles.

"Hi, I'm Raiko from the Empire of Kirisubo" she says to him

"And I am Adaine from the nation of Avarhierrim" *moving to their table after Cassandra didn't seem interested in assination. never mind, he wasn't paid for commisions*

The silver-haired man whispered something to Jevo, who nodded silently. Serph walked slowly toward the women, who were variously discussing military matters and belching. He regarded Commander Chiang. "Are you feeling quite all right this afternoon?" Not particularly interested in the response, he continued. "What was all this about customs? The protocols of other nations interest me." The Chief Paladin ran his left hand through his hair as he scanned his would-be conversation partners. Not bad, he thought. Quite a few men back home would appreciate their forms.Cmdr. Chiang really needed to go back upstairs to change, and the thong really was becoming quite uncomfortable, but dammit, she didn't want to be rude. Blasted Kennyites hadn't yet divested themselves of all their customs, it seemed.

"You see?" she elbowed the Karmicarian. "I told you getting attention was never a problem for me!"

She turned back toward the mysterious gentleman, noting that his eyes were wandering lower than what was customary for polite conversation. Nothing wrong with having a little fun with this gentleman, she concluded to herself.

"Seems to me our 'protocols' aren't the only thing that's interesting you, sir," she said wryly. "And here I thought a third of all Kriovalian men played on the wrong team! I'm happy to see that's not the case here." She flashed him a sly smile as she ran her hand up her thigh.

"Let me tell you a thing or two about the 'protocols' for women in my profession: remain loyal to your brigade, loyal to your country and loyal to your God -- but there's never anything wrong with making a quick buck on the side if you can get it." She leaned closer to him. "I also do private shows, Your Excellency, and I assure you, I'm very discreet."

She produced another business card. "I have a pager number, if you're interested."

"Seems to me our 'protocols' aren't the only thing that's interesting you, sir," she said wryly. "And here I thought a third of all Kriovalian men played on the wrong team! I'm happy to see that's not the case here." She flashed him a sly smile as she ran her hand up her thigh.

The Chief Paladin of Krioval was instantly perplexed. Is that how foreign women interpret that look? I suppose the White City is some distance from me after all. He redirected his glance almost instantly. Etiquette demanded some sort of response, though it was hardly mandated that it *not* be playful.

"If my Lady is referring to the 'Slashers' she must be quite the fan of football. Of course, they are headquartered in the capital, and truly are the best team money can buy. But to say that a third of the males of Krioval play for them is to overestimate their ranks ever so slightly." Serph laughed lightly at his conclusion.

"I also do private shows, Your Excellency, and I assure you, I'm very discreet."

"I can see that," the paladin said without the slightest trace of irony. In the Republic, where sex was a commodity bought, sold, and traded with industrial efficiency, Chiang's behavior would be seen by many a Kriovaller as bordering on coy.

She produced another business card. "I have a pager number, if you're interested."

This elicited a laugh a bit louder than the silver-haired man might have liked. "I do appreciate the offer, however, I am bound to [Force] at the time. There are others, mind you, for whom discretion is not only the better part of valor, but for whom it supersedes it entirely."

OOC: Kenny, if you want to know who it is check page 6 of the puppet thread in the DEFCON forums.
Bah, bring it back home to the Nogger forum.

The Strangers Bar wardrobe seemed to have been opened again...unless Violet had been looking at online retailers again. Shaking her head and laughing Hodgelett left her glass of carrot juice on the table, and proceeded to rescue the paladin from the Kennyite...or perhaps the other way around. "Forgive me for interrupting Commander but I need the Kriovillians'(?) assistance. I'm sure your protégé will be demanding your attention for the near future, she has much to learn if she wants to be in the same ambassadorial league as you."

"Forgive me for interrupting Commander but I need the Kriovillians'(?) assistance. I'm sure your protégé will be demanding your attention for the near future, she has much to learn if she wants to be in the same ambassadorial league as you."

Fifteen years earlier, Serph might have detonated with laughter. Aristocracy be damned; it was Guild discipline that allowed him to maintain a neutral expression, though the next Directors' meeting would certainly be regaled with Hodgelett's comment. Such was the entertainment of paladins.

Instead, the paladin regarded the newcomer with more interest than the Kennyite commander, though he deftly tucked the business card away - there were those in Krioval who might enjoy such services. When he spoke, Serph's tones were level and friendly. "Might this fighter be of assistance, or does Your Excellency require an audience with the Republic?"

Appearing from the dark recesses of the room, leaving her sister mothers in law in muttering lurk mode behind her, the grand high MIL of the Bahgumian mother in law squad walked imperiously to the bar. Apart from a well placed 'tsk' or two from her sneering lips, she ignores the ripple of dread passing through the males, she leans over the bar and beckons Neville to her.

"Neville, it seems the bar has been without the need of a professional intervention for some time, my girls are becoming restless, and as barkeeper you don't want that.......here's my card, if there is anything you may need a Bahgumian MIL for let me know, perhaps one of your patrons may find us useful..hmmmm?", she lets the words sink in, beady eyes locked on the normally cheery Neville, who can't help noticing that somehow her features are dimly lit in a calculated scary fashion. Quietly and without a trace, except for a slowly dissipating all pervasive feeling of inknown terror, she disappears back into the shadowy depths of the bar.

"Belch" slurred Sir Albert, "ah'm going t'ave to have words with them MILs", he paused to look at his glass, lean over and fart in reflection," got anything stronger to drink?"

Yukiko finished her beer and asked for another one sliding a few obans over the bar to Neville now the MIL had left him alone.

Still this was a good time to make contacts.

she moved over beside Sir Albert, beer in hand and introduced herself.

"hello, i'm Yukiko Uehara from the Empire of Kirisubo and the acting deputy ambassador"

Violet looked up. Hodgelett was coming towards the gaming table with a gorgeous -- with another gorgeous -- man. Probably off-limits, she sighed to herself. Anyone that good just had to be. Why did she never see them first?

Although Hodgelett was a good GF, and she might be trying to help ... Violet had been lamenting to her about the lack of men in her life lately. She perked up a bit and tweaked nervously at the scarlet dress ...

Only to catch the eyes of both upon her. Not admiringly. Dammit, she'd thought this the perfect outfit for a croupier. Maybe, with her colouring, the red was a bit over the top?

The way the man was watching her suggested more interest in her fashion sense than in any of her other attributes. Oh, damn. Was he? Wasn't he? Men should have to wear a sign, Violet thought resentfully. Something like Interested/Not Interested, flashing above their heads.

She wished she was warm, friendly Dicey, who loved all men of all species indiscriminately, beddable or not. She wished she was cool, irresistible Hodgelett, whom all men loved, as far as she could see. She wished she was a mother-in-law, and past all this nonsense, She wished she'd gone ahead with that plan to get contact lenses; she couldn't even see this one's eyes yet, and eyes were so important ...

She wished she'd realised from the first that it was the Kriovalian -- a Kriovalian, would you believe! The important one. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her. She wished she'd grow out of this. She wished she were dead.

"Violet, we --"

"Damn you! Double damn you! BOTH!" said Violet furiously; burst into tears; and fled to the bar.

Where Sir Albert, possibly without even realising it, was given a punitive quadruple-strength Bahgumian Blue to pay him our for being a man.

"Damn you! Double damn you! BOTH!" said Violet furiously; burst into tears; and fled to the bar.

"This seems familiar," Serph said, voice tinged with exasperation. Looking toward nobody in particular, he continued. "Exactly what did I do *this* time, I wonder?"

"Exactly what did I do *this* time, I wonder?"

OOC: He was there, of course. Honestly, don't you men understand anything? *Poster departs in a petulant snit, leaving poster's male characters to stare blankly at each other*

IC: "I wasn't even in the bar!" protested Brother Tim. Neville, who had been helplessly patting whatever bit of Violet was accessible, took Tim's hand and made him take over. "She needs a priest," he said, in obnoxiously smarmy tones. Tim, realising where his hand had been deposited, snatched it back and wrapped it firmly around a pint. Violet sniffled and served more delegates.

Meanwhile, Good and Evil were continuing their battle in Neville's consciousness. Fortunately Common Sense had had a word with them both. They weren't going to get anywhere until they found out Gurgle's intentions, so what was the point of harrassing the Barlord? Neville had been allowed to shrug them off and leave Gurgle long enough to see what was happening out in the bar.

Unfortunately, aside from the Violet incident, what was happening had turned out to be the MIL.

Neville knew it was wisest to take no sides in the delegates' little feuds. He had been scrupulously neutral, so far, in the Kennyite-Ardchoille contretemps. But, well, Bahgum was in Ardchoille's region, anyway, so it would probably just be giving events a little nudge in the direction they'd always intended to go. And besides, one thing he didn't want was bored MILs trashing the Bar with their homemaker magazines.

"Sir Albert?" he called. "Sir Albert, sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if the MILs would like to take a little coach trip to Ardchoille? They've got this hu-u-uge Bingo place there -- I think I've heard Dicey call it the Great Hall. Apparently their government's offering free trips and free Bingo cards, too, as a tourist promotion ... "

A troop of Bahgumian MILs strolling round Ardrigh, the capital, would at least complicate matters between the squabbling nations, he mused. And if the formidable females decided not to go, well -- well, no doubt he'd think of something else to keep them occupied.

The Wolf Guardians']He still wondered about what the bear had on his mind, though. He hadn't said a word to anyone in the entire time Wolfgang had been here.

The bear heads over towards Wolfgang. "Greetings," he says. "I am Borrin o Redwood, sent here as an 'observer' by my homeland of Bears Armed to learn more about this organisation and especially to find out how the humans who seem to form the majority of its member-nations' governments respond to the presence of other sapient species. May I enquire whether your homeland, like mine, is populated entirely by beings of a non-human nature, whether it has actually joined the UN yet, and whether you have found difference in species to be any problem here?"

Shaking her head and laughing Hodgelett left her glass of carrot juice on the table, and proceeded to rescue the paladin from the Kennyite...or perhaps the other way around.

Behind her back the glass appeared to raise itself into the air and tilt sideways, as if somebody had lifted it to drink, and its remaining contents disappeared into thin air; it then difted back down to rest on the nearest table...

"May I enquire whether your homeland, like mine, is populated entirely by beings of a non-human nature, whether it has actually joined the UN yet, and whether you have found difference in species to be any problem here?"

"Not at all, Mr. Borrin o Redwood of Bears Armed. It is part of my duty as Ambassador, really." Wolfgang set his glass of grape juice on the bar and extended his clawed right hand to the bear. "Wolfgang Zero Thirteen of the Commonwealth of the Wolf Guardians, Pacifica. While the native population of the Commonwealth are, indeed, gen'eng' hybrid beings such as myself, there is nothing stopping anyone else living there. We are, indeed, already UN members, and have been nearly since our establishment. We were created for war, but left our creators so that we could pursue peace, and thus felt it was important to establish ourselves in the UN. And no, in the short time our nation has existed and been in the UN, we have found nothing suggesting that we aren't wanted. Although I hear the Kennyites sent the Commonwealth as an ambassador a psychotic punk-rocker who always seems to have better places to be. But then, I hear he's not a particularly abnormal Kennyite, either." He chuckled. "I think Wolfe will have an interesting time in their country, as well. Hell, it couldn't get much weirder than it already is, nonhuman or otherwise. I think half the people in here use magic, from the feel of it. The bloody gizmo at the door even uses magic. It tried to alter my self defense gun. All it got was the ammo, thankfully, or else I'd be at Commonwealth CyberMedical." There was a click as Wolfgang raised his apparently well-concealed metallic left arm and extended a barrel even more well-concealed inside. "Altoid mint?"

OOC: LOL, I needed to disarm him without... dis-arming him.

The Wolf Guardians'] ... There was a click as Wolfgang raised his apparently well-concealed metallic left arm and extended a barrel even more well-concealed inside. "Altoid mint?"

OOC: LOL, I needed to disarm him without... dis-arming him.


OOC: Boom-TISH! And no way do I believe your post-count!

OOC: Boom-TISH! And no way do I believe your post-count!

OOC: LOL... I've never seen a musical sting written before! And I don't know what you mean about the post count, so I'm going to take it as a complement... lol

Serph couldn't remember the last time he had offended somebody so deeply simply through his existence. Well, actually, that wasn't quite true. He couldn't remember somebody who he had offended so deeply in that manner who was still among the living. Oh, sure, there were the people who cursed him roundly, usually because they claimed to still want their vital soul - some days, it didn't pay to get out of bed.

He turned from the flustered Violet and toward Hodgelett and asked, "Is there anything I can do to be of assistance that does not involve eternal damnation?" As he waited for a response, he checked his watch. Any minute now...

Actually, Gurgle was getting along quite well. Though he was polite, he was also easily bored. Thus, it should come as no surprise that he had, after sitting for a short while, searched the entire back room for something to occupy his mind...and found its surveilance system. Thus, he had managed to follow, without becoming involved in, most of the goings-on in the bar.

Particularly, he had noted the return of Serph. The avatar had been his usual enigmatic self, but Gurgle had noted a particular disdain for the local females. He had trouble keeping himself from laughing at them. From this, the dragon decided that it would be worth it to watch and see how he handled himself around nubile men.

As to Neville, the dragon almost pitied him. He'd been dealt with by a Grand Bahgumian Mother In Law. That she had chosen to withold the full might of her natural rancor was where the "almost" came in. Even a Bahgumian Mother In Law, it appeard, could be diplomatic when the circumstances called for it.

Finally, he had noticed Borrin o Redwood. He hoped he had found a new friend. He hoped that Borrin would find that the UN and its Strangers' bar were as open to non-humanoid sentients in their full depth as they were on their surface. He hoped that no one tried to think too hard about the poor creature's name.

Satisfied that things were tending themselves, the dragon decided to relax...and open himself a bottle of good newfangled Aromatic Blue...though he did make sure that he had a bottle of Arrogant Bastard Ale on hand, just in case.

He turned from the flustered Violet and toward Hodgelett and asked, "Is there anything I can do to be of assistance that does not involve eternal damnation?" As he waited for a response, he checked his watch. Any minute now...
"Nothing so drastic. In fact I hadn't really interrupted you for much purpose at all, but now that you mention it...Neville's been acting extremely suspiciously the past few weeks, disappearing for no reason as if he had some emergency, and going off into dazes." Spotting the MiL heading purposely in the direction of the bar over Serph's shoulder, she added "although he seems to have one now. Either way, is there some way of having him discreetly observed?"

The Meddling Monk strode into the bar with a stride not seen on him in years, along with his Aide Amber. “That was definitely fantastic,” Amber replied as they entered. “That was the best long weekend vacation I’ve ever had.” In her hand were several small metal penguins each less than an inch in height. “I can’t wait to start painting these minis.”

“Yes,” the Monk replied, “I never thought that they would make minis of penguins.”

“And the sushi was excellent,” Amber added. “The uni was also wonderful. As I always say, a good uni is better than an …”

“I’ll take your word for it,” the Meddling Monk interrupted her before the censors kicked in. “Mind you I never thought that the roe of a sea urchin would be so … interesting.”

“And the oysters in the other restaurants were fantastic; both the raw ones and the fried ones. I’m sure that there would be a market for them in the Free Land.”

“I’m sure there would be,” the Meddling Monk replied, “Assuming we can find them around here in a nation state that can ship them reasonably well.”

“So are you ready to resume the normal work of the United Nations?”

“Yes. I made a brief stop to the UN voting room before I picked you up. It appears we have a major infestation of fluffy resolutions that to either nothing or very little. So after a good laugh I silently voted against on the current resolution, and will probably do so again at the next resolution that blows across the floor.”

"Nothing so drastic. In fact I hadn't really interrupted you for much purpose at all, but now that you mention it...Neville's been acting extremely suspiciously the past few weeks, disappearing for no reason as if he had some emergency, and going off into dazes." Spotting the MiL heading purposely in the direction of the bar over Serph's shoulder, she added "although he seems to have one now. Either way, is there some way of having him discreetly observed?"

OOC: Depends on "the Powers that Be" :D

IC:

"I think it could be done." Serph turned slightly, and appeared to speak to nobody at all. "Kiros?"

A voice reponded, the slight Caribbean accent almost perfectly preserved. "Ya, Leader? On my way, ya know."

"Good. Is High Commander Sakura on assignment?"

"Eh........no?" The tone changed from slightly exasperated to completely so. "Lookin' now........what's goin' on?"

"Routine mission, type eight, if possible."

"Be dere in five minutes. Jus' wait a bit, can you Leader?" The commlink went dead.

The Chief returned his attention to Hodgelett. "Should not be a problem." Then he smiled, ever so slightly.

For those of you wondering what came of Dicey's beloved kitty, he's still "missing," but there have been some surprising developments on that front (in the II (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/forumdisplay.php?f=1230) forum):

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=11508107#post11508107

[Since we've been gone for a bit, a quick update: The HOCEK finally sent two nekomusume ("cat-eared" shrine maidens) to look after the Shrine of the Manifestation, ensconced at one end of the Stranger's Bar bar. And just in time, as the local carousing seemed poised dangerously to offend the tiny island of tranquility the Kawaiians had set up to honor their divinity. As it was, only a few wards were damaged, and a timely intervention by a HOCEK otaku, courtesy of Expository Narration (tm) was able to set it straight. We now join our regular silliness in progress.]

The elder nekomusume scanned the bar, looking over the patrons in turn. The Conclave of Friendship had informed her that foreigners came in all shapes and sizes, and their words did not disappoint the old nun. Dragons and wolves and bears oh my, she thought. Even invisible beings, judging from a rapidly disappearing cocktail at the far end of the bar. Her eyes continued looking over the bar, and narrowed when they alighted upon the Kennyite whore plying her trade. A flashback to her younger days in the Happiness Police crossed her mind, and her hand instinctively began to make the traditional warding gesture, the beginning of the Ritual of Denunciation, as if she still was wielding her ceremonial mallet of justice.

She shook her cat-eared head, and calmed herself. Time for dealing with the Kennyite later--her first duty was to the Shrine, and encouraging visitors to it here in the bar. No Manifestation wishes to be lonely, after all. Perhaps the two beast-men trading stories would be a useful advertisement? Smiling, she wandered over to Borrin and Wolfgang, bowed politely and said, "Kuma-san, Ookami-san, welcome. Would the gentlemen be interested in observing the Shrine of the Manifestation? The only one like it outside the land of the Eternal Kawaii..."

"Kuma-san, Ookami-san, welcome. Would the gentlemen be interested in observing the Shrine of the Manifestation? The only one like it outside the land of the Eternal Kawaii..."

Popping an Altoid in his mouth, Wolfgang turned on his stool to meet the newcomer. Well, hello there, kitty kitty. Scanning the room, he located the shrine in question. Odd that I didn't notice that before, he thought, recording it with his eyes for the Commonwealth Encyclopedia, as that was the other part of his job here. He extended his (right) hand to the newcomer. "Greetings, miss. The Guardians are always interested in other cultures and cultural experiences, as we have little cultural background of our own. Perhaps you'd care to explain a bit more about this shrine? And, may I ask what you called us? That sounds like an interesting language."

"There's a what?" Amber whispered to the Monk.

"Stop ease dropping," the Monk replied. "It can be extreemely dangerous. I estimate there are at least two dozen NYP fields in operation in this bar and several of them have enough paradox to cause serious backlash should you notice them at the same time. Like my TARDIS over there and the Kawaiian shrine."

"A what field?"

"A not my problem field," the Monk replied. "Have you been listening to a word I said?"

Amber stared blankly at the Monk and then turned towards the elder nekomusume ajusting her tux shirt as she hopped off of the bar stool. She approached slightly but waited until the conversation with the beast men had ended before trying to introduce herself.

"I guess not," the Monk sighed. Apparently companions were as much as annoyance as a convience.

The Wolf Guardians']"Not at all, Mr. Borrin o Redwood of Bears Armed. It is part of my duty as Ambassador, really." Wolfgang set his glass of grape juice on the bar and extended his clawed right hand to the bear. "Wolfgang Zero Thirteen of the Commonwealth of the Wolf Guardians, Pacifica. While the native population of the Commonwealth are, indeed, gen'eng' hybrid beings such as myself, there is nothing stopping anyone else living there. We are, indeed, already UN members, and have been nearly since our establishment. We were created for war, but left our creators so that we could pursue peace, and thus felt it was important to establish ourselves in the UN. And no, in the short time our nation has existed and been in the UN, we have found nothing suggesting that we aren't wanted. Although I hear the Kennyites sent the Commonwealth as an ambassador a psychotic punk-rocker who always seems to have better places to be. But then, I hear he's not a particularly abnormal Kennyite, either." He chuckled. "I think Wolfe will have an interesting time in their country, as well. Hell, it couldn't get much weirder than it already is, nonhuman or otherwise. I think half the people in here use magic, from the feel of it. The bloody gizmo at the door even uses magic. It tried to alter my self defense gun. All it got was the ammo, thankfully, or else I'd be at Commonwealth CyberMedical." There was a click as Wolfgang raised his apparently well-concealed metallic left arm and extended a barrel even more well-concealed inside. "Altoid mint?"

Borrin took the extended hand, carefully, and shook it as he understood was the human custom.
"'gen'eng' hybrid'?" he enquired, "would that refer to some sort of 'scientific' process having been involved in your people's creation? I must admit that I don't know much about 'science', and neither do most of my people... Our ancestors simply 'awoke' -- or were 'awoken' by the GREAT BEAR, many believe -- to consciousness from amongst the populations of non-sapient bears that existed in a number of human-dominated lands, and apparently faced considerable problems before they found their way to the safe haven where we now dwell. We've only recently opened relations with our human neighbours in the 'International Democratic Union', and although they have been perfectly accepting of our different nature the fact that this 'United Nations' has a specifically 'Human Rights' category for its laws rather than a more generally applicable 'Sapient Rights one had left many of us dubious about how far its acceptance would stretch. Finding other non-humans such as Gurgle the Dragon and yourself comfortable here, and hearing that you've had no problems along those lines, is definitely encouraging..."
"The 'Kennyites'? Oh, yes, I've heard a few stories about them: Somehow, I don't think that we will be exchanging embassies with them anytime soon..."
"A mint? Thank you." (He takes the offered item.) "May I buy you a drink?"

"Kuma-san, Ookami-san, welcome. Would the gentlemen be interested in observing the Shrine of the Manifestation? The only one like it outside the land of the Eternal Kawaii..."
The Wolf Guardians']Popping an Altoid in his mouth, Wolfgang turned on his stool to meet the newcomer. Well, hello there, kitty kitty. Scanning the room, he located the shrine in question. Odd that I didn't notice that before, he thought, recording it with his eyes for the Commonwealth Encyclopedia, as that was the other part of his job here. He extended his (right) hand to the newcomer. "Greetings, miss. The Guardians are always interested in other cultures and cultural experiences, as we have little cultural background of our own. Perhaps you'd care to explain a bit more about this shrine? And, may I ask what you called us? That sounds like an interesting language."

Borrin nodded his head respectfully at the cat-eared woman.
"I would be honoured to observe your Shrine," he answered politely and -- as he is a keen student of other cultures, which is one of the reasons why he was chosen for this mission -- truthfully.

_________________________________________________

OOC: Is there anything actually supernatural about her, or about the Shrine? Although Borrin doesn't have any 'active' mystical abilities he does have something of a 'nose' for such matters...)

(OOC: Finishing the conversation between Wolfgang and Borrin BEFORE the nekomusume approached)
Borrin took the extended hand, carefully, and shook it as he understood was the human custom.
"'gen'eng' hybrid'?" he enquired, "would that refer to some sort of 'scientific' process having been involved in your people's creation? I must admit that I don't know much about 'science', and neither do most of my people... Our ancestors simply 'awoke' -- or were 'awoken' by the GREAT BEAR, many believe -- to consciousness from amongst the populations of non-sapient bears that existed in a number of human-dominated lands, and apparently faced considerable problems before they found their way to the safe haven where we now dwell. We've only recently opened relations with our human neighbours in the 'International Democratic Union', and although they have been perfectly accepting of our different nature the fact that this 'United Nations' has a specifically 'Human Rights' category for its laws rather than a more generally applicable 'Sapient Rights one had left many of us dubious about how far its acceptance would stretch. Finding other non-humans such as Gurgle the Dragon and yourself comfortable here, and hearing that you've had no problems along those lines, is definitely encouraging..."
"The 'Kennyites'? Oh, yes, I've heard a few stories about them: Somehow, I don't think that we will be exchanging embassies with them anytime soon..."
"A mint? Thank you." (He takes the offered item.) "May I buy you a drink?"

Whilst making a note of the bear's cultural reference for the Encyclopedia, he continued, "To answer your question, yes. We were genetically engineered, gen'eng for short, as a hybrid of wolf, human, and a bit of cat in there, too. Imagine a being of sentient intelligence with canine strength and senses and feline reflexes. And then throw in some machine, too. That was the purpose. As I said, though, we left our warmongering creators.
"I never really thought about it before, but you are correct about the human rights bit. I guess we never noticed because we are genetically part human. We are not, however, completely human, and thus I now question whether or not it technically applies to us." To the room in general, he asked, "Does anyone know of a resolution protecting the rights of nonhuman sentients?" Turning back to Borrin, he said, "I will ask the Beta of Foreign Affairs for a review later. I do not perceive it as a deliberate attempt against our rights, though. I think it was just an oversight. And, no thank you, I've plenty of credits and nonalcoholic drinks aren't particularly expensive. I'd rather offer you a drink."

(OOC: We now return to your regularly schedule timeline)

For some reason, Sammy returned to the bar (probably seeking out his deputy, who so easily got herself into trouble, but was so hard to keep track of), and overhearing the wolf's question, he turned to the representative from the Kennyites' newest diplomatic partner, and informed him, "There was a resolution for protecting sapient rights, but it failed (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Rights_of_Biological_Sapients) near the end of last year."

He never found Jessie, but he did spot his security attaché at the far end of the bar toying with male patrons, and, shaking his head at her obnoxious exploits, quickly left, hoping she wouldn't see him.

Damn, Wolfgang thought. "Why, thank you, sir. We'll have to try that again, then." He made yet another note into his minicomputer.

The elder nekomusume smiled at Wolfgang and Borrin, bowed politely again and begain regaling them with the story of the Shrine, from the initial discovery of hordes of small animals apparently popping in and out of reality near the end of the bar where it stood, to the installation of the Shrine commemorating this Manifestation of the Cute One. Warming to her pitch, she showed the wolf-man and bear-man the booth set up before the shrine, where she and her young granddaughter were apparently busy hawking hand-made good-luck charms, reading fortunes and offering travel brochures for shrine pilgrimages to the lands of the Eternal Kawaii.

"Our oldest legends speak of kemono, or beast-folk, who lived in harmony with the Cute One before the arrival of Man," she added. "Ookami the Wolf, Kuma the Bear, and many others. First and formost was the Sanrio Kitten, the avatar through whom the Cute One extended Its blessings. Though the kemono are long gone, the Sanrio kittens have remained with us, teaching us the Cute One's ways. Have you no such avatars among your people, sirs?

The Monk walked up to Amber, who was alternating her stare between the cat lady and the booth before the shrine, "I thought curiosity killed the cat," the Monk whispered.

"But I'm not a cat, I'm a werepenguin," Amber whispered back.

"It's a metaphor," the Monk whispered. "I do have an obligation to keep you safe after all. Just beware of the excessively cute. And by the way, she's not a cat either."

The Monk turned to face the bar and the Kennite who the nekomusume had previously stared at. "Why is the only hocek shrine outside of Kawaii in of all places a sex and booze filled bar?" He asked to no one in particular. He paused thinking about all the mindless representatives and delegates who often walked in to vote on the cuteness of the titles of resolutions. "Nah, it can't be that powerful ... can it?"

(OOC: Though I've been reading the NSWiki about HOCEK, I'm going to continue as though Wolfgang is completely ignorant of everything about them, since... he is.)

Overhearing the Monk's comment, Wolfgang smiled and continued tapping out the entry for the HOCEK into his computer. Things like that are indeed why my people don't understand religion. "Ah, no, the Commonwealth doesn't. It is a relatively young nation, and did not... 'develop' over time, it was kind of just... created. May I enquire as to these... 'blessings' you speak of?"

OOC: Away for a week on holiday, and then busy TGing, I rather neglected this post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11493108&postcount=4001), which this is now a reply to. I'm not aware of any relevant happenings in the meantime that put off the "story", such as two blonde girls rolling round is...

...sorry, I was miles away. Anyway, I had the idea for the following post at work today, and half-wrote it in my head. Now, I'm not so sure it's funny or that it works...but I'll try it anyway.

IC: "Ahhh!" shrieked Jianna as the Kennyites lunged forward. She felt a tug at her shoulder, and wheeled, expecting to resume battle with Jessie, but instead found herself being dragged off.

"Come on, this way!" the Federal Republic deputy ambassador squealed, and the two charged off down the 13th floor corridor, heels clacking awkwardly on the dull floor. "I think I know a way out of here."

They cantered on breathlessly for a minute, the sound of the chasing Kennyites rising around of them, before Jessie turned, spitting, "You're still a bitch, you know."

"Shut up, slag," snapped back Jianna. They both grinned, and then ran on.

"Turn left here," panted Jessie, tossing her hair from her eyes. The cries of the Kennyites were now loud and audible - and they demanded flesh.

"Where are we going?"

"If we head down through the GA, we can get to the Kenny UN Offices - we can hide there. It's only four floors."

"That is, like, sooo far," whined Jianna. "Can't we just take the lift?"

"Haven't you seen what's in them? I do not want to get that stuff on my new top."

Jianna grumbled her approval - her shoes were, like, so totally shiny new, and she didn't want space guck on them. They continued dashing on, weaving down through the tiers of the GA, hurling desks, files, and empty bottles of Miervatian spirits behind them to slow their pursuers' progress.

"Ok, ninth floor! It must just be along here..." Jessie slowed, progressing uncertainly. The men chasing them had slowed down to laugh at two squirrels doin' it.

"This doesn't really look like your national decor," Jianna said. "Oh, look, so cute!!" She pointed to a happy smiling kitten.

"Oh fuck. This is the wrong end of the building - HOCEK territory!"

"Aren't you, like, at war with them or something?"

"Hmm, not really - they're too polite for anything like that. But I don't think we should be here."

"There they are!" came a voice from down the corridor. "Hey girls, fancy a good time?!"

"Shit." Jessie pulled Jianna into the nearby closet. "Stay quiet, and they'll pass us by."

Jianna gagged at the smell of ammonia, but nodded weakly. She began looking around. "What are all these magazines?"

They leafed through a few pages as the Kennyites charged around outside screaming and whooping. "Ew."

"Is this..."

"...hentai? Yuk."

"You'd think they'd hide it a bit better. It's so gross."

"Some of it's quite tasteful, actually." Jessie held up a page. Jianna cocked her head.

"Wait..."

"No, that belongs to her, not him. Well, 'her'."

"Oh, I get it. Ew. I wish I didn't."

"Anyway, they've gone. We can probably head back - and kick Sammy's ass."

"Aw, don't be too harsh - he seemed kinda sweet."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Girl, we need to talk." She opened the door.

"THERE THEY ARE!"

"Oh, fuck." They began running again, charging down the corridor, right, left, and then on, and then...

"It's a dead end!" cried Jianna.

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know! HELP!"

The Kennyite men advanced slowly, grinning. "Well, hello..."


OOC: The next few seconds of the post have tragically been lost.


IC: "Gosh, that was a lucky escape," said Jessie, sipping on a tall, colourful drink in the safety of the Strangers' Bar.

"I'll say," agreed Jianna.

OOC: Is there anything actually supernatural about her, or about the Shrine? Although Borrin doesn't have any 'active' mystical abilities he does have something of a 'nose' for such matters...)
ooc: Haha. The Shrine. It'll be quite a few pages back, but Neville decided it would be a good idea for some cute things to appear in the bar....except it got out of hand. Everything was becoming cute. The Kwaiian Nuncio decided it was 'A Manifestation of the Cute One' and called a meeting of various priesty people who agreed, purified a corner of the Bar and erected the shrine. So consider it holy and not to be frequented by the not-so-cute drunkards known as the majority of the ambassadors.
...yes, the history of the Bar is rather curious.

Oh and fyi 'person' is usually defined as any sapient being, most recent proposals use person over human. So if anyone wants to rp that in...I can't as my character is otherwise occupied.

ic: At the sign of a less severe outlook on life in the paladin's demeanour Hodgelett's smile broadened, it always amused her when ambassador's stopped being haughty, over-pompous or just too serious and started to enjoy themselves, and her sense of mischief was always ready to exploit new opportunities.
Giving a small bow of her head she said "Thank you, I do hope he won't cause your assistant too much trouble, I don't doubt he'll find himself in some awkward situations, a barlord's life being what it is."

Serph regarded Hodgelett intently. "Oh, Kiros won't be assigned to this - he's the Director of Logistics for the Guild." Each capitalization was clearly enunciated, though the Chief Paladin's voice remained friendly. He leaned in toward the Randomean diplomat as if hatching some grand conspiracy. "Besides, I'd hate for him to be away for such a long period of time. 'Kiros' meaning 'force' in the ancient language and all."

The floor shook slightly.

"Though you probably meant the High Commander Sakura, who is far more suited to secrecy...you'll see why shortly."

A man half-walked, half-stomped into the Strangers' Bar. Anybody looking his way would quickly see that he was black-skinned and in a Guild uniform, which was rare enough. That his hair cascaded down in a series of almost immaculately maintained dreadlocks might have escaped notice for the sledgehammer strapped to his back. Serph sighed in mock annoyance.

"'Ey, Leader! Dey say I can't bring dis in here!" The large man who was clearly 'Kiros' spoke, laughing. "Guess dey wrong, ya know?"

"Just don't swing it at anybody. Weapons have an ability to shape-change here."

"Transmutational field? Seriously?!"

"Kiros," the silver-haired Chief smoothly interrupted, "there's someone I'd like for you to meet."

"Our oldest legends speak of kemono, or beast-folk, who lived in harmony with the Cute One before the arrival of Man," she added. "Ookami the Wolf, Kuma the Bear, and many others. First and formost was the Sanrio Kitten, the avatar through whom the Cute One extended Its blessings. Though the kemono are long gone, the Sanrio kittens have remained with us, teaching us the Cute One's ways. Have you no such avatars among your people, sirs?

"Many of our people believe in a spirit whom they call 'the Great Bear', and credit Him -- or possibly Her -- with the 'awakening' of our ancestors to consciousness," Borrin replied, "but if He of She does exist then that seems to be without any actual avatars living physically amongst us today... However some of our people's more mystically-gifted individuals, belonging to a profession known as 'shabears', can contact and interact with spirits of various kinds -- including the souls of the dead -- and some of those do claim to have received guidance from spirits that acknowledged 'the Great Bear' as their master..."

Back at the bar Casandra thought. I guess I don't really have anything else to do with my time. "Lacey? Why did she fire me again?"

"Because you were thinking about taking another job Ms. Chase."

"Right. You don't have to call me Ms. Chase anymore. I'm not your boss. Now, let's go and have a few drinks."

The pair headed into the bar. Casandra was hoping that they wouldn't run into the Commander again. As fas as she was concerned, that was the last thing she needed.

Lacey ordered the drinks while Casandra found them a table. There were still a few familiar faces. She was starting to wonder if some of the people here ever left.

"So, I guess you'll have to find another job, that is, unless you want to be out on the street. I don't think that's the best idea though. Our Queen has street trash killed. Can't have that cluttering up her streets. Maybe you should give the Commanders employer a call."

"Not just yet. Maybe I'll let them come to me. They're most likely to find out that I've been fired. Things don't stay quiet for long around the AO."

"True. It was just a suggestion. Why don't we go dance?"

"Sure."

Casandra and Lacey made their way to the dance floor. Casandra thought that maybe it was a good time to let loose and give the others in the bar a good show. She slowly walked over to Lacey and pulled her close.

"Let's give them something to stare at love." She said as she nibbled on Lacey's ear.

"And that, my dear Amber," explained the Monk, "was one of the principle reasons why this august body had such a hard time trying to repeal that dumb sexual resolution, even though technically that resolution doesn't cover this because this is not technically the privacy of a home now is it. Oh my, I wonder if the elder nekomusume noticed that clearly erotic little bit of psudo cannibalism."

"So," Amber asked. "Do you dance?" Grabbing the Monk towards the dance floor.

The Monk was clearly protesting, "But we're in public."

"Precisely," Amber replied and as she started to move the Monk towards the two dancing ladies she whispered, "scandal is the perfect cover."

"I'm teaching you too well," the Monk whsipered as they moved close to Casandra and Lacey. "Greetings my lovely ladies. Perhaps after you finish your dancing you can come over to my table where me and my aide can buy you a few drinks and discuss with you a business proposition of sorts."

Casandra noticed the two making their way towards them. She was hoping that they just wanted to dance and not talk. Damn! An invitation to join them at their table for drinks. Being as curious as she was, Casandra had to accept.

"We would love to join you. I'm insanely curious about your business proposition. Since I don't have to worry about getting fired anymore, I don't see what harm it can do."

"Um, Casandra? Are you sure about this? You barely even know these people. You have no idea what you'll be getting yourself into."

"I'm sure that our new friends here will be more than willing to explain things. Then, my dear, I will be fully aware of what I'm getting myself into."

Casandra dragged Lacey over to the table and sat down.

"Now, about that business proposition."

"So this is the Strangers' Bar, huh? God, what a dump!"

"I'll go find us a table, Madame Vice President," Sammy offered.

"And leave me all alone standing here? I think not. What if that mob of perverts you unleashed on the UN shows up and starts harassing me?"

"I'll take my chances, ma'am."

"Oh, look! They've got a cute little shrine and everything!"

Sammy examined the religious site that so fascinated Morgan. "That's a Kawaiian shrine, Madame Vice President."

"Oh. It would have to be cute, then."

"You wanna sit with Cmdr. Chiang?"

"That little hussy? God, no!"

Sammy started looking around for a free spot, as Morgan was suddenly alerted to something unsettling about this bar, something very, very wrong.

"Sammy, why isn't anyone looking at me?" she asked urgently.

"Uhh, everyone seems to be distracted by the lesbians on the dance floor, ma'am."

"Lesbians? Where?"

Sammy pointed them out.

"Oh, those little lipstick wannabes?"

"Well, you won't have to worry about them much longer, Madame Vice President. It's the Karmicarians; I hear they just got canned."

"Even so, I can't have posers like them sucking up all the attention!" she said, grabbing the ambassador's arm. "C'mon, Sammy! Let's dance!"

"Er ..."

"What? You're not afraid to dance with your former boss, are you?"

"No, ma'am. I just think it's a bad idea, especially since you were almost impeached, and the tabloids are always trying to get you in trouble. Add to that the Ardchoilleans haven't taken their eyes off us since Riley left, and they may want revenge for Bast."

"Oh, blah, blah, blah!" Morgan quacked. "Is all you and Alex think about is politics? One little dance doesn't mean anything! Now get your ass on that floor!" She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him with her.

"Alright, fine, Madame Vice President, but I'm not nibbling on your ear!"

"Thank God!" Morgan snapped as the two of them started aping the dance scene from "Pulp Fiction."

"So ladies," the Monk replied. "First things first, because I promised them to you. What's your pleasure? Drink wise that is." After getting Casandra's and Lacey's desire for a drink, he turned to Amber who went off to the bar. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Meddling Monk; president and current United Nations representative of Tzorsland. My associate and aide is Amber Red-Brown, a third generation werepenguin from the Free Land of Retired Werepenguins, and daughter to the current Faithful Admiral."

The Monk paused for a moment after seeing Amber wave to him from the bar. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I'll help Amber with the drinks. Then we can have a little private discussion, thanks to the Kennite Vice President taking to the dance floor and attracting everyone's attention." With that he headed over to the bar glancing several times at the elder nekomusume to see her reaction to the dancing Kennyite.

"You know," the Monk commented to Amber, "that naval tux uniform makes you the perfect waitress. All it needs are bunny ears and a cotton tail."

"A what?"

"Nevermind," the Monk replied.

OOC: Because looks are everything, the Meddling Monk (http://pic9.picturetrail.com/VOL291/1756382/5512569/175835520.jpg) is dressed in a brown robe with a rope belt and berkenstock sandals wearing fancy eyeglasses and a bluetooth ear piece on his right ear. Amber Red-Brown (http://pic9.picturetrail.com/VOL291/1756382/5512569/173876309.jpg) is wearing tails, a black bow tie, and a short black skirt, along with pattent leather shoes.

"What do you think they want Casandra?"

"I have no idea, but it might prove to be interesting and maybe even a little fun. Of course, I have no idea what 'fun' is for a bloody Monk."

"Praying a thousand times a day?"

Casandra let out a rather loud laugh. She now turned towards the dance floor. "Look at that bitch. She thinks she owns the whole goddamn world! Those Kennyites! I mean the Commander was nice enough, but I'm really starting to think that the entire nation is made up of whores. Then again, I could be completely wrong."

"Right. You don't think our little display on the dance floor will have people saying the same about the Karmicarians?"

"No. That was one little thing. All I did was nibble on your ear. There was nothing else, besides it didn't mean anything. Just a couple of friends dancing. Who cares what the others think of us. At least we got noticed. well this is until that damn Kennyite whore came in. I think she might have been a little jealous."

"Maybe. The Monk and his associate are on there way back now. We'll talk about this later Casandra.

The Monk returned to the table, presenting Casandra and Lacey with their drinks. "There you are," he said as Amber sat down next to Lacy, allowing him to sit next to Casandra. "So, it would seem that you and I have a similiar type of problem. Indeed you might call it a royal pain in the bottom."

The Monk paused for a dramatic effect and continued. "Perhaps I can explain mine first. You see I represent the nation of Tzorsland. Originally this nation was a series of feudal lands the largest of which was the Kingdom of Tzor. Unfortunately for the pagan Tzorites, the land was invaded by an army of Franciscans who converted the pagan people and set up the cathedral of St. Philomena in the then capitol of Eyesore. Creating their own governent they moved over to what is now Capitol City."

"Needless to say, this angered the King of Tzor greatly. I mean who wouldn't be angry to go from the absolute ruller to historical oddity overnight. So the King arranged a plan to put me in charge of the government, seeing that the Friars who didn't like being cloistered in any one place would find a 'monk' more to their liking."

"So as you can see, we both share something in common. Royal pains in the bottom. To make a long story short, the plan has worked beyond everyone's dreams. The frustrated Franciscans created their own nation and have left to run themselves to blazes. But now that I've done my job I think that the King wants to get back in on the action."

"And here is where it comes to you, and the Antartic Oasis in general. You see I think he wants to cement some relations with your Queen. Yes he's a married man, that's not the cement I had in mind, but I'm not rulling it out mind you. In addition I think he wants to get solid relationships with that nation over there." Pointing discretely to Sammy.

"And you fit the bill both ways. First of all in terms of knowing everything there is to know about your former boss. And secondly, I understand you have job opportunities at the other nation. I would personally pay quite well to have a good mole in Ohmygodtheykilledkenny. And I would pay equally well for any good royal information you might have. Are you interested?"

"You want me to spy on the Kennyites, give you all the information on Queen Adrienne, and you're going to pay me for this. Heh." Casandra sat forward in her chair. "How much would this payment be and would you be willing to bring Lacey in on it as well? We're pretty much attached at the hip these days and I wouldn't want to leave her behind."

Lacey was dumbfounded. You're not actually going to accept this, are you Casandra?"

"Why not. The only reason that bitch fired me was because she was jealous. She wants to have all the glory and the fame. She couldn't stand the fact that I was making a name for myself, or at least trying to."

"But you can't turn on the Queen. Do you have any idea what she will do to you?"

"Excuse us please. Lacey and I need to have a little private chat. Come on dear."

Casandra all but dragged Lacey into a corner, where she hoped that they wouldn't be overheard. "What the hell is the matter with you? The Monk is offering me a job that will most likely pay more than that bitch ever did. What does it really matter anyway. I agree to spy on the Kennyites, gossip about Adrienne and get paid for it. I don't see the issue with this."

"Why in the world would you want to spy on the them?"

"Because it might be fun. Now, let's go back to the table and our drinks."

They walked back to the table. Casandra didn't sit down. "I accept. I will do what you wish, for the right price of course."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," the Monk mused. "The amount of money we waste in Tzorsland's government exceeds the amount of money in your nation's defense budget. And of course that waste is not really waste, it's going to people like you. I'm pretty sure we could double or more your previous employers plan. And of course that will include you as well Lacy."

"Tzorsland offers exceptional benefits, and there are additional benefits for working for me. Actually the benefits are priceless. But why don't we celebrate this union by getting on the dance floor as a foursome. Honestly I think our distraction has taken too much attention ... don't you think."

OOC: I just worked a 12 hour day (with time off for lunch and dinner) so forgive the otherwise short post.

"Great! It was a pleasure doing business with you. I think we have the time to dance some more." Casandra grabbed the monk and rushed onto the dance floor. Pulling the Monk close to her, she whispered, "I have a feeling you and I are going to work great together." She then nibbled on his ear and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I believe Lacey will enjoy the new job as well. Hey, let's get out of here. How about the four of us go back yo my place. We can talk further about what it is you would like us to do."

while all these events were going on both kirisubans had left returning to their office.

Midori Kasigi-Nero entered the bar in her dark green airforce uniform and holding her peaked cap taking a break after a long drafting debate.

She orders a green tea and sits at the bar watching the dancers glad to be back in the bar away from work.

Meanwhile, Wolfgang, having given up on the nekomusume from HOCEK returning from wherever she had vanished to mid-conversation, resumed his seat at the bar to drink his grape juice and watch (and, unbeknownst to them, listen to) the scene between the monk from Tzorsland and the Karmicarian woman. I love espionage. "Hit me," he told the bartender with a chuckle.

John McKay and The Doctor re-entered the bar.

"I'm certainly glad you turned up when you did. I could have been turned into one of those things." said John, "Please let me get you a drink."

"No, I think it's time we went off, Things to see places to go, you know." said the Doctor.

"Thanks for staying for the Delegate elections too, Have a good trip."

"Rose, Jack. We're off."

"Sounded like you had some fun without us Doctor." Rose

"Oh, you know just a little, and for once it looked like you guys stayed with the TARDIS."

"Don't expect it to be a permanent thing." said Rose as she got up and "Shall we?" Rose motioned and lead the way into the TARDIS, Jack and the Doctor Followed.

It was not long until the TARDIS started wailing and started to vanish from known existance.

Wolfgang walked in and sat down at the bar. Not a lot has changed this evening, he noted. The clock is wrong, though. He heard himself say, "Hit me," though there was no one for him to say it to and... he hadn't opened his mouth. Looking around very carefully, he noticed himself sitting down the bar a few seats. Dammit, I hate interdimensional travel. Just HAD to have my chinese food from that funny alternate earth, didn't I? He quietly turned on his apathy field, making himself basically invisible, as no one cared enough to see him, and made his way out of the bar.

OOC:I applaud your use of Doctor Who, Bazalonia! I've as yet to see the older ones, but I think the new series is excellent, and hope it continues.

OOC: I wasn't a fan of Dr Who until they started to show the old series re-runs before the new one started. I like the new Dr Who but I wish they would do ~4 parters that they did before. Butr I understand attention span nowadays are crap. Oh and John's now the Delegate for my region.

OOC: I've been a whovian since the '70's. The first ones I saw were with Pertwe as The Doctor. I thought that the show was cheap, but liked John's sense of humor.

It was a shame when, in one of the sims I'm doing in "International Incidents," no one could recognise that a steam thrower and a columnized electron beam were both Dalek Guns at one time or another. :) :) :)

OOC: I'm so happy the Meddling Monk left the bar in the previous page. He was of course a very old enemy of the Doctor, as far as I can remember only appeared in one episode where he was trying to change the course of history of the Saxons. (You know those guys who the Normans defeated in the Battle of Hastings?)

I was always a fan of Dr. Who. Getting my reruns whenever I could from PBS back in the old days. Even have a few video tapes of some of the various doctors. The doctor, like the tardis itself, must be measured in all his various dimensions in order to be appreciated in its entitity.

I was planning on bringing in another Doctor last year for a role playing event of the invasion of Chechenya. Unfortunately, the land locked nation had no effective army, and Ohmygodtheykilledkenny only used his Village People strippers against the population. I had planned the Doctor to materialize in the middle of the battlefield, explaining how this is a wonderful winter vacation spot just before the shit hit the fan. Looking for his two comapnions he would classically shout out, "Jamie! Zoe! Zoe! Jame! Oh no, I've got their faces wrong again."

(Extra credit to the epsiode where the Doctor said the last part. Some of those early epsiodes were exceptionally corny.)

Neville was astonished by the way his customers were gossiping about the Doctor. It was completely out of character: usually gossip dwelt on the absentee's sexual preferences and financial peccadilloes. But this particular line of gossip suggested the Doctor's life was a television series.

Perhaps not a reality show, though. A mockumentary, then? It was an interesting concept; Neville could think of several delegates whose lives would make quite high-rating (though low IQing) TV shows, particularly when they wrestled with such charming lack of inhibition all over the barroom floor.

His inner traffic cop smartly redirected his thoughts away from that particular cul-de-sac. He gazed mournfully at the space where the TARDIS had disappeared. Neville felt kinship with the Time Lord; after all, was he not, himself, a Barlord? Though by no means adept with the manipulation of time and space, except when the Acme machines were working. He wondered if it was something you could be taught, or was it innate; apparently that new wolf person could do it, and the Ennish delegation had always excelled in that direction ...

But enough of this. Absently he filled glasses (and saucers, with carrot juice; it was not fair to subject the invisible rabbit to the strain of using a glass all the time). The Strangers' Bar was hitting new heights of intrigue. It was almost enough to take his mind off his own current imbroglio.

The Wolf Guardians']"Ah, no, the Commonwealth doesn't. It is a relatively young nation, and did not... 'develop' over time, it was kind of just... created. May I enquire as to these... 'blessings' you speak of?"

Kawaiians, like many religious folk who strive to live apart from other people, naturally assume that all foreigners have some manner of religion. No doubt a debased, heathen religion, but a religion nonetheless. So Wolfgang's question came across to the old nekomusume as if the wolf-man had asked her why people breathe. What a peculiar thing to ask, she thought, staring blankly at him, and tried to formulate an answer. Unfortunately the press of business at the bar swept him away before she could reply.

Shrugging, she turned to Borrin, finding the tall bear-man a more understandable customer. "I see, I see," she nodded at his brief explanation of 'shabearism'. "Much like some otaku of note who live among our Sanrio kittens and try to learn from their ways. Perhaps the Cute One has favored your people in the past?" She pushed a handful of brochures into Borrin's paw and said, "Surely, you must visit some of our shrines. I believe you'll find them most enlightening, sir."

Meanwhile, the younger shrine-maiden, having just finished that hour's prayers, was startled to find a tall, surprisingly beautiful woman speaking in a broad Kennyite accent and fawning over the Shrine. She was about to say something before the strange woman flitted away and was apparently engaged in something that didn't look very proper with her fellow Kennyite escort.

Neville was astonished by the way his customers were gossiping about the Doctor. It was completely out of character: usually gossip dwelt on the absentee's sexual preferences and financial peccadilloes. But this particular line of gossip suggested the Doctor's life was a television series.

OOC: LMFAO, THAT'S EXCELLENT. Especially the bit about "completely out of character." Well done! *Applauds loudly. You know, the not-golf kind.*

Wolfgang, seeing the nekomusume had reappeared, decided it would be best just to observe her explanation to Borrin, as he seemed to have confused her quite a lot with his confusion over the... thing. The religious icons, that was it. No, "avatars" was the word she'd used. Which, in turn, further confused him. There were times where the (relative) youth of his nation made it difficult for his kind to understand things. Lack of experience, as it were. Oh, well. He brightened, suddenly, realizing he was helping to combat this lack of experience. That was the reason for working with the Encyclopedia, wasn't it? With a slightly better outlook, he resumed tapping out the entry in the minicomputer. Until he remembered the resolution at vote. Aw... he thought, his long ears laying back against his head. I made myself sad again.

OOC: You know, it took me 20 minutes to get this to go through and post. Bloody forums.

With the Doctor gone out in his TARDIS, John knew that his life would never be the same, no one spends any serious amount of time with the Doctor would tell you what the doctor does to a person.

John looked around to see if he recognised anyone from his previous visits but couldn't. Maybe it was the hustle and bustle of the Bar that just prevented him from seeing anyone. Well, he did notice the Barlord. Neville...

"A glass of milk thanks, so, what's been happening here since I left?" said John chatting..

It was not long until the TARDIS started wailing and started to vanish from known existance.

(A little while later, aboard the TARDIS... [OOC: with Bazalonia's agreement])

The Doctor was just setting the controls for his intended destination, while Rose and Jack were in another room having a meal, when he thought that he heard a light footstep from somewhere behind him. Turning warily, he couldn’t see anybody … but then a voice spoke, from the same part of the chamber where that sound had originated, saying _
“Naah, what’s up, Doc?”

Oz Blues bursts through the front door, energized after just completing his latest tour. Strangely enough, nobody realised he'd left, having stealthily creeped out as only a Blues Brother can do.

Sliding up to the bar, he sees that his three fried chickens and coke are finally ready. Setting his plate down on the bar next to John and with more flourish than necessary, he takes a seat.

"G'day John, how's it goin'?" then turning to the Barlord, "It's been a while since i was last in here too, so tell us what's been happening?"

ooc: Apologies, not had much time for Jolt...

Serph regarded Hodgelett intently. "Oh, Kiros won't be assigned to this - he's the Director of Logistics for the Guild." Each capitalization was clearly enunciated, though the Chief Paladin's voice remained friendly. He leaned in toward the Randomean diplomat as if hatching some grand conspiracy. "Besides, I'd hate for him to be away for such a long period of time. 'Kiros' meaning 'force' in the ancient language and all."

The floor shook slightly.

"Though you probably meant the High Commander Sakura, who is far more suited to secrecy...you'll see why shortly."

A man half-walked, half-stomped into the Strangers' Bar. Anybody looking his way would quickly see that he was black-skinned and in a Guild uniform, which was rare enough. That his hair cascaded down in a series of almost immaculately maintained dreadlocks might have escaped notice for the sledgehammer strapped to his back. Serph sighed in mock annoyance.

"'Ey, Leader! Dey say I can't bring dis in here!" The large man who was clearly 'Kiros' spoke, laughing. "Guess dey wrong, ya know?"

"Just don't swing it at anybody. Weapons have an ability to shape-change here."

"Transmutational field? Seriously?!"

"Kiros," the silver-haired Chief smoothly interrupted, "there's someone I'd like for you to meet."

'This could be a riot' Hodgelett thought to herself, 'or at least a reminder of home...' it had been a while since she'd been back to the tropics.
"Greets man! Hodgelett from that Randomea Island," she said as she extended her hand with a grin. "The Chief tell me good things 'bout you."

John looked towards the blues brother and smiled, "Pretty good, there ah... Oz, is it? That smells good, do you know how they prepare it?" John's drink appeared in front of him but the staff where busy and did not yet have the time to start a discussion.

Taking a sip of his milk John sat contentedly in his seat next to the blues brother. Remembering some of his adventure with the doctor and smiliing.

....

Meanwhile in the TARDIS,
"Ooo, an incorporeal voice. Don't tell me. An aluminalLeporidae? Yes, of course. Only an invisible rabbit, no sorry, wabbit would introduce themselves like that. Nice to meet you. Do you mind, I want to introduce some friends of mine. JACK, ROSE, THERE'S SOMEONE I WANT YOU TOO MEET."

and with that two quizzical people entered the TARDIS control centre. Jack and Rose. The doctor turned to them and said "Jack, Rose. I want you to meet, uh sorry, I didn't get your name."

Jack and Rose did not see anyone, It was Rose that spoke up "but Doctor, I don't see anyone."

"ah ha, just because you can't see them does not mean they are not there." finished the Doctor.

(A small man crashes through the roof of a nearby building, he appears to have been thrown out of a window in that large UN looking building).

Edward smirked into his drink, thinking he was glad to no longer be the Minister of UN Affairs.

Edward smirked into his drink, thinking he was glad to no longer be the Minister of UN Affairs.

An intern rushes into the bar asking "Did anyone by any chance see a small man fall from the sky?".

-Johny Redshirt
-Intern For HIre

An intern rushes into the bar asking "Did anyone by any chance see a small man fall from the sky?"....

"If he wasn't wearing his hard hat, we don't want to know," said Neville coldly, with a meaningful glance towards the "Construction area: safety equipment must be worn" sign that had decorated the Bar time out of mind.

The Strangers' Bar had an excellent record for industrial safety, and Neville wasn't about to see it ruined by randomly defenestrating delegates.

"It's just a matter of exercising a little self-control," he told John and anyone else who would listen, loftily. "Anytime I feel the urge to throw myself out of a window, or let someone do it for me, I simply pull the curtains. It's not rocket science."

Wolfgang grinned. "I prefer actually killing myself. Apparently and temporarily, that is." He pulls out a small hangun-looking thing, which he seemed to have been allowed to carry in. "The Holographic Simulated Destruction handgun. My people have a nasty temper from time to time, but we're also peaceful. So, to relieve stress, just shoot something. Or someone. Or yourself. With the HSD." By means of demonstration, he shot a bottle behind the bar, which, of course, shattered into myriads of pieces, its contents spilling all over the shelf. About 15 seconds later, with no descernable transition, the bottle appeared to be sitting there, undisturbed. "I've shot myself through the head... hmm... six times, now, since becoming an Ambassador due to utter silliness in the GA. It's really wonderful." He holds the gun out to the room in general. "Anyone else want to try?"

An intern rushes into the bar asking "Did anyone by any chance see a small man fall from the sky?".

-Johny Redshirt
-Intern For HIre

"If he wasn't wearing his hard hat, we don't want to know," said Neville coldly, with a meaningful glance towards the "Construction area: safety equipment must be worn" sign that had decorated the Bar time out of mind.

The Strangers' Bar had an excellent record for industrial safety, and Neville wasn't about to see it ruined by randomly defenestrating delegates.

"It's just a matter of exercising a little self-control," he told John and anyone else who would listen, loftily. "Anytime I feel the urge to throw myself out of a window, or let someone do it for me, I simply pull the curtains. It's not rocket science."

"I think it was a building next door. I find the best way to relieve stress is to either constantly fiddle of have something to do. Funnel the frustration into something at least non-harmful, but preferably constructive." Looking at the results of the HSD Handgun, pondered and asked. "Do you happen to have a HSD Chainsaw?"

Wolfgang pondered this for a second and chuckled. "Well, it's just a holographic system, so you could apply it however you wanted, really." He hooked the pistol into his minicomputer and seemed to be making some tweaks for a minute. He unplugged it, and it suddenly assumed the shape (and sound) of a chainsaw, which he sliced the bar up with, until it, too, reverted to its true form 15 seconds later. He handed the pseudoweapon, still 'chugging' quietly, off to John. "Here, have fun. Make a mess, kill people, what have you. Just use that trigger, there." He pointed. "Who wants one? I'll have some shipped out here for whoever does. Courtesy of the Commonwealth. Stress relief second to none. Can be hooked up for great laser-tag type games, too."

An intern rushes into the bar asking "Did anyone by any chance see a small man fall from the sky?".

-Johny Redshirt
-Intern For HIre

"I haven't had that much to drink yet," replied Edward softly.

After being handed the HSD Chainsaw John said "Please excuse me, I've got something to do..." and with that he headed out of the bar and headed up to his office....

Midori Kasigi-Nero and Yukiko Uehara played a game of pool, Midori telling Yukiko a lot of the things she would need to know as the game continued.

The younger Kirisuban was frankly overwhelmed and Midori knew this knowing she would have to introduce her to the bar before too long.

As she was about to take a shot she felt a sharp pain and dropped the cue. Yukiko helped her over to the rocking chair as the heavily preganant Kirisuban deputy ambasador looked in serious pain...

Six bikers walked into the bar, three males and three females all singing this odd chant as they barged through the doors, "We know what we want to do! We just want to *BEEP* and *CENSORED*!"

One of the girls, a red haired biker approached the bartender, while the rest found barstools at the bar. "A couple of large hot saki and six cups please," she asked the bartender. "You wouldn't by any chance know of an Amber Red-Brown, currently working as an aide to the representative of Tzorsland? She's my sister."

"She's not a midwife, is she?" demanded Neville, halting in mid-panic. "Or an obstetrician, or a doula, or an ambulance officer, or a paramedic, or police, or maybe just someone who's had a baby? Ye gods, where's a Bahgumian Mother-In-Law when you need one? Shouldn't somebody give her a silver bullet to bite on, or something?"

He dashed away to boil water. If Midori-san's twins had decided to arrive in the middle of the pool-table, at least he could make sure they floated into the world on a tide of freshly brewed tea.

"Just ignore him," Violet advised the newcomers. "Your sister was in a while ago, but I can't seem to see her now," she told the ... were-penguin? She really should read up on the various sapients. "But the delegations pop in and out as the fancy takes them. Please, make yourselves comfortable, I'm sure you won't have to wait long. Or I could buzz their office, if you liked."

Competently, she dispensed the drinks order and awaited events. Bikers, holographic chainsaws, tumbling men, possible twin births (or maybe just a twinge) ... no doubt the Universe was unfolding as it should.

(Meanwhile in the TARDIS...)
and with that two quizzical people entered the TARDIS control centre. Jack and Rose. The doctor turned to them and said "Jack, Rose. I want you to meet, uh sorry, I didn't get your name."

Jack and Rose did not see anyone, It was Rose that spoke up "but Doctor, I don't see anyone."

"ah ha, just because you can't see them does not mean they are not there." finished the Doctor.

"Call me 'Harvey' ", the Wabbit replied, although -- strangely -- only the Doctor heard him...

Midori accepted the tea despite her pain and Yukiko helped her to get comfortable in the rocking chair.

"its time" she whispered to Yukiko who called out to the bar in general "is there a doctor in the house? the twins are on the way"

She then takes Midori's mobile phone and looks out Pazy Lenny's number telling him whats happened.

"Thanks," Rouge replied. "That lady in the rocking chair. Is she? That's gross. Still I suppose it won't hurt to watch; see how the other half live as it were. Makes me glad I lay eggs as any proper advance race should do."

Around this time another biker, stong and clearly blone enters the bar, "Rogue, Amber is in her hotel room at the UN Hilton."

"Thanks Flash," Rogue replied. "I really hate to miss this but I have a very important message to tell her. Flash, you go help those people any way you can. Bob, do you have you videocamera with you? Well use it. Wildlife documentaries don't happen when you keep the lens cap on you know." With that Rogue headed out the door leaving a very confused Flash.

Flash walked up to Yukiko, "Hi. I'm Flash Blonde, famous rugby player for Retired Werepenguins. She seems to have a serious ... well can I help in any way?" Turning to Bob he asked, "Did Rouge finish her sake?"

Yukiko replies after sizing up the newcomer "I need to call the hospital in UN HQ. Can you keep the deputy ambassador company while I find a way of getting her there?"

Yukiko opens up her mobile phone and starts talking firstly to the switchboard and then to a receptionist in the UN hospital.

"I need a doctor and a trolley here right away. the deputy ambassador's waters have broken and its only a matter of time before labour starts and I mean now" she can be heard to say.

Midori was ignoring her tea as she tried to rest wearing her dark green airforce uniform with the dark green maternity skirt. she couldn't do it as her pains increased.

"The miracle of birth!" Lori Jiffjeff clapped her hands together, and walked in, starry-eyed.

"Out of my way..." grumbled Pyandran, as he staggered past her. His pupils were rotating crazily, his pallid skin painted thick with noxious sweat, his fingers twitching rapidly.

"Oh dear Wena, Rono...what's the matter with you?"

"We were spraying the aerosols in a confined space..." he sucked in breath, and whooped, his red eyes exploding open. "Yeaah this is good stuff!"

He produced a long hatpin from his belt. "Now, did someone mention birth?"

the door to the bar burst open as 5 gnomes wheeled a medical trolley. they were all dressed like nurses except for a male gnome who was a doctor.

"coming through" they called out as they worked their way through the crowded bar area to where Midori and Yukiko was.

The gnome doctor looked up at Rono and said "sir, i think you should sit down before you do some damage with that pin" as it suddenly turned into a cooked frankenfurter.

After some minutes of simulated mayhem in the Bazalonian Mission in the UN Building John managed to release alot of the pent up frustration, he set some things in order for his staff telling giving instructions for the days task. Then he started on his way back to the bar... on the way he was confronted by a random gnome complaining about the Chainsaw in his hand. Why didn't someone complain on the way up into the UN building was certainly a mystery to John but someone had. He decided to swing the chainsaw around and the the gnome fall down dead in two distinct pieces and then 15 seconds later resume it's shape. By that time John was already back in the stranger's bar.

Returning the HSD Chainsaw back to Wolfgang John thanked him.

John finally the noticed the who-har surrounding the Kirisubon,. Midori. It looks like she's finally having a baby.

....................

"Isn't this great, his name is Harvey." said the Doctor

"But doctor, there's no-one there." Rose

"Yes, there is he's an Aluminalleporidae, an Invisible Wabbit. There's a whole nation of them. Didn't you hear him introduce himself?" replied the doctor.

"No." answered Rose.

"Don't look at me, I didn't hear anything." said jack

"If you didn't heat it he mustn't be actually speaking, perhaps some psychic method of communication." replied The dcotor

Rose and Jack didn't really know how to reply to the doctor, they are starting to believe that the Doctor may have lost it, but are certainly giving him the benefit of the doubt, for the moment.

Flash turned to Midori, "Don't worry lady, the doctor has arrived, you should be safe no. Well he is knind of short for a doctor but I'm sure he is ok." Turning to the doctor, "Do you mind if I go with her? No I'm not related to her in any way, I just want to make sure that she isn't completely alone. I know what it's like to be in a foreign place with foreign doctors working on you. Mind you I wasn't in labor at the time."

Bob, camera in hand, jumped off the barstool. "Don't forget me!"

Wolfgang was glad that this whole scene was leaving the area. Well, that, and that he'd gotten the HSD weapon back. If he hadn't, and the birth process wasn't moved soon, he'd probably have shot himself with his self defense weapon. And, getting knocked in the head by an Altoid wasn't going to do it for him. He was quite disturbed by the process, a holdover from his own artificial creation. Because the Creators wanted an army that had no choice but to follow their will, no future of their own, they were not given the ability to procreate naturally. Bastards. However, they had surpassed the Creators in every way, and had mastered the artificial creation process themselves, thus paving the way for the Commonwealth. Side effect: natural birth seems repulsive to Guardians. This was fading, with each generation, but Wolfgang, being one of the oldest people in the Commonwealth, one of the very first generation, felt it quite strongly. This fought against his natural curiosity and desire to help the Encyclopedia, which were trying to make him watch.

He was very glad he didn't drink, or it would probably backfire shortly. Assuming it didn't anyway. Bastard Creators. He still grimaced, just thinking about it. A moment later, anyone who hadn't seen the HSD gun received a complete demonstration.

Flash turned to Midori, "Don't worry lady, the doctor has arrived, you should be safe no. Well he is knind of short for a doctor but I'm sure he is ok." Turning to the doctor, "Do you mind if I go with her? No I'm not related to her in any way, I just want to make sure that she isn't completely alone. I know what it's like to be in a foreign place with foreign doctors working on you. Mind you I wasn't in labor at the time."

Bob, camera in hand, jumped off the barstool. "Don't forget me!"

as the gnomes helped Midori onto the trolley and strapped her in she wasn't in much of a state to reply. The gnome doctor had a dubious look on his face and spoke quietly with Yukiko.

it was Yukiko who noticed the camera although and told both Flash and Bob firmly "your offer of help is appreciated but she needs some female company at the moment. i will be with Midori so she will be fine until her husband gets here. you and only you can go on the condition that your friend remains in the bar with the camera"

Yukiko then followed the gnomes out as they pushed the trolley out of the bar on the way to the UN hospital.

it was Yukiko who noticed the camera although and told both Flash and Bob firmly "your offer of help is appreciated but she needs some female company at the moment. i will be with Midori so she will be fine until her husband gets here.

I will make an announcement nearer the time"


Flash was clearly having antother "Blonde" moment as the trolley left the bar. Turning to Bob he said, "Female company? I would have thought she needed pain medication myself. I don't think she's in any condition to have 'company.' I'm glad her husband will soon be here, but didn't she just say 'female company?' Is that camera still on?"

"Sorry," Bob replied, turning off the camera and putting it away. "I got caught up in the moment. 'Werepenguin rugby star aids UN diplomat in womb hatching.' I could have gotten that footage in all the Antarctic Oasis newscasts."

"Well," Flash replied, "at least we can have some more sake here. I can save the universe later. I wonder if Rouge found Amber?"

"I hate to be the one to tell Amber that she's out of a nice job as a UN aide," Bob replied. "Still she will probably have a nice job in the Retired Werepenguin Navy working in one of those massive aircraft carriers the size of a small city. So are you and Rouge still a pair? You thought about marriage? Ruffling the feathers? An egg in the nest? Hint hint, wink wink, say no more?"

"Me? Rouge? We're just friends."

Meanwhile, at the Mikado, a expensive sushi bar and resturant only a block away from the UN Hilton, Amber, Rouge, the Meddling Monk and the Master were eating expensive sushi and drinking sake all at the Free Land of Retired Werepenguin's expense. I'd tell you more, but what goes on at the Mikado stays at the Mikado.

Ignoring the hubbub behind him, Sammy stood at the bar while Violet handed him an Arrogant Bastard Ale and muttered something to him. "That much?" the diplomat gasped in reply. He sighed and cast a weary gaze upon the two giggling men wolfing down Jack in the Box sandwiches at a nearby table, and reluctantly approached them.

"Hey, guys -- my bar tab's already at $495 UN credits; you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" he said accusingly as he grabbed a chair and set down his beer. Nervously he looked around to make sure Neville was occupied; he was sure outside food wasn't allowed.

"Dude, Sammy, you got one enormous head!" one them replied, and they both chuckled mischievously.

"I do not have a big head!" the ambassador protested, feeling his scalp to make sure. His compadres pointed and laughed even harder.

"Shut the fuck up, guys; if I get in trouble with Neville over my tab, you bitches are paying for it."

"Dude, whatever," the redhead replied dismissively through a mouthful of hamburger. "We're not the ones screwing the VP."

"Look, Ace, I did not fuck around with Vice President Morgan!" Sammy fumed. "Do you realize how out of my league that woman is?"

"She's always all over you whenever we see her with you!" the Latino guy said as he greedily shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. "She's on your tip so bad it's not even funny," he continued with his mouth full. "Well, actually it kinda is!" he cackled stupidly.

"You're such a fucktard, Rico," the ambassador said angrily. "That woman's a mentor to me; you know I wouldn't--"

"You wouldn't what, Bighead?" Rico asked; the twain laughing evilly at their friend. Sammy gave them both a withering stare.

"So, what did she taste like?" Ace asked.

"Shut up!" the diplomat's face was turning red.

"I can't believe it!" Rico exclaimed. "Everyone's saying you fucked one of the hottest women in the region, and you're just sitting there like some pussy, denying it!"

"Oh, I ain't denyin' nothin': We were at it like animals!" Sammy retorted sarcastically, his voice rising. "I had her on my desk screaming like a wild banshee! Her head was banging against my computer screen--"

He had absentmindedly tilted his chair back, only to feel someone behind him push it back upright. The Kennyite looked over his shoulder to see a pair of bloodshot eyes glaring down on him, their wobbly, spaced-out owner menacingly clutching a hatpin.

"Sorry, Ambassador, didn't see you back there," Sammy said guiltily.

"Biiiiig-head!" Rico whispered tauntingly behind him.

"I'm gonna kick your ass, Rico!" the envoy shouted as he whirled back around and flew across the table to plant his fist in Rico's chin.

Neville's reflexes had him slamming down the protective grid across the mirrored display at the back of the Bar before he'd even thought about it.

Pity, he decided, when he did think about it. He could have left it up and put the whole cost of breakages in any subsequent free-for-all on the Kennyite's tab. It was time for a bit of redecorating.

Nah. Violet'd give him hell.

There wasn't much he could do to protect the Kawaiian's shrine, but he lowered the lights in that part of the Bar. None but the most dedicated would brawl where it was dark. Delegates usually preferred to conduct their affairs in the full glare of publicity.

'This could be a riot' Hodgelett thought to herself, 'or at least a reminder of home...' it had been a while since she'd been back to the tropics.
"Greets man! Hodgelett from that Randomea Island," she said as she extended her hand with a grin. "The Chief tell me good things 'bout you."

OOC: I also appear to be lacking in Jolt time these days...

Kiros's head snapped around, allowing the dark-skinned paladin to regard the Chief. "Serph?" he asked, incredulity evident. "What you been sayin' 'bout me?" His attempt at being menacing fell flat as a sneaky grin appeared in short order. "You been tellin' 'bout *that* time...?"

"Here? Of course not."

"Oh." Kiros returned his attention to Hodgelett, vaguely aware he had revealed something that otherwise would have remained secret. He gripped her hand firmly, but not too tightly. "Randomea Island? What's dat like?"

Serph relaxed as he watched Kiros interact with the Randomean diplomat. The Guild's directorate didn't get out much lately, and this trip was meant, in part, to break the endless cycle of work. Except for the Chief Paladin. Even as his demeanor softened, his mind buzzed with activity. Sure, there were those against the Miyamoto technology and cybernetics, but the impants allowed Serph the freedom to collect and process information with few being able to detect it. And so he read about Neville - what little there was publicly available about the man.

The ambassador from Community Property glanced over at the developing brawl, and then shook her head and returned to her papaya juice and the shot of wheatgrass next to it.

Boys will be boys, she thought...

Accelerus Dioce tossed back another glass of Imperial Brandy from Clearwater and smiled. Always an interesting time in the Bar, what with folks drugging themselves, flirting, getting pregnant, casting spells, and generally making sure everyone was on their toes. He idly considered letting his pet python loose to see the results, but decided against it, and got some more brandy instead.

Landaman Pendankr, the Allech-Atrean ambassador to the UN, entered the bar cautiously, having never been inside the place before.

Technically, his bodyguards entered first, followed by two lower-level aides, but he was still inside the bar itself.

It wasn't that he had a security issue, nor was he a generally frightened person - it was just Imperial protocol to have a noble accompanied by bodyguards (even when not on official business.) Of course, the security was also partially due to the fact that the last Allech-Atrean ambassador had been assasinated in his offices. (by his own government, but that was hush-hush)

Sidling up to the bar, he rapped his knuckles on the bar, having no idea how to order, or even what to order - by virture of his nation being connected to the rest of the universe by a super-secret wormhole, not much Imperial culture got out. He doubted they'd have Yuoth from Khaylamnis.

"Um.." he cleared his throat, hoping to get someones attention.

Landaman Pendankr, the Allech-Atrean ambassador to the UN, entered the bar cautiously, having never been inside the place before.

Technically, his bodyguards entered first, followed by two lower-level aides, but he was still inside the bar itself.

It wasn't that he had a security issue, nor was he a generally frightened person - it was just Imperial protocol to have a noble accompanied by bodyguards (even when not on official business.) Of course, the security was also partially due to the fact that the last Allech-Atrean ambassador had been assasinated in his offices. (by his own government, but that was hush-hush)

Sidling up to the bar, he rapped his knuckles on the bar, having no idea how to order, or even what to order - by virture of his nation being connected to the rest of the universe by a super-secret wormhole, not much Imperial culture got out. He doubted they'd have Yuoth from Khaylamnis.

"Um.." he cleared his throat, hoping to get someones attention.

"Howdy." Accelerus nodded to the new fellow, his wrinkled skin taut against his forehead. Accelerus knew he was one of the oldest human representatives here. "Have the Imperial Brandy. It's very good. Outlawed in eight nations because of how good it is, actually."

One of the ambassador's bodyguards immediatly moved to execute a "Hypnian Hug" on the eldelry man, but a quick word from Pendankr saved everyone from a most cruel and unnecessary scene. Speaking to Accelerus, he was apologetic.

"Terribly sorry. I am stuck with somewhat overzealous defenders who consider outside contact of any kind to be a threat. It makes it very difficult to carry on conversations. I will try this brandy, however. Being from an interstellar empire, it is amazing how little of the universe one can try."

Having ordered his drink, he sat back again and began to converse with the man.

"It is unusual, having been ambassador for some years now, I have never had the opportunity to relax in this place. Usually my schedule requires me to return to Brackthan's immediatly after debate, but thankfully His Most Excellent Majesty has relaxed the rules somewhat. Where might you be from, my acquaintance?"

One of the ambassador's bodyguards immediatly moved to execute a "Hypnian Hug" on the eldelry man, but a quick word from Pendankr saved everyone from a most cruel and unnecessary scene. Speaking to Accelerus, he was apologetic.

"Terribly sorry. I am stuck with somewhat overzealous defenders who consider outside contact of any kind to be a threat. It makes it very difficult to carry on conversations. I will try this brandy, however. Being from an interstellar empire, it is amazing how little of the universe one can try."

Having ordered his drink, he sat back again and began to converse with the man.

"It is unusual, having been ambassador for some years now, I have never had the opportunity to relax in this place. Usually my schedule requires me to return to Brackthan's immediatly after debate, but thankfully His Most Excellent Majesty has relaxed the rules somewhat. Where might you be from, my acquaintance?"

Accelerus shrugged at the new fellow's apology, and was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't gotten to tangle with the bodyguard. He always enjoyed a good tussle. It kept him young, and the truly young ones on their toes, given his surprising agility and strength. Cybernetic enhancements made him considerably more formidable than most expected.

"I'm from HotRodia. How about yourself?" Accelerus ordered another two glasses of brandy.

Pendankr's eyes lit up

"Oh yes! I remember, our governments are now part of the same organization... I am quite glad to be able to to socialize with someone outside of the Imperial Court - it gets stuffy and altogether too bureaucratic sometimes."

He took a deep drink of the brandy, noting its taste and bouquet.

"Not bad at all! Particular taste, I enjoy it quite well... were it ever to be marketed in my land, it would fetch high prices."

He waved his hand at his bodyguards, who headed off in the direction of the restrooms, where they would wait until summoned, in the meanwhile casting menacing glances at any gentleman who had to use the facilities.

Pendankr caught himself before taking another drink.

"I have not properly introduced myself... Landaman Pendankr dan Samda, Baron of Khaylamnian Samda. The Great Star Empire composes many planets, and I am lord of but one meager part of it. We do produce a fine liquor in Samda, however, and the next time I return I will bring you a bottle of Samda's finest."

Pendankr's eyes lit up

"Oh yes! I remember, our governments are now part of the same organization... I am quite glad to be able to to socialize with someone outside of the Imperial Court - it gets stuffy and altogether too bureaucratic sometimes."

He took a deep drink of the brandy, noting its taste and bouquet.

"Not bad at all! Particular taste, I enjoy it quite well... were it ever to be marketed in my land, it would fetch high prices."

He waved his hand at his bodyguards, who headed off in the direction of the restrooms, where they would wait until summoned, in the meanwhile casting menacing glances at any gentleman who had to use the facilities.

Pendankr caught himself before taking another drink.

"I have not properly introduced myself... Landaman Pendankr dan Samda, Baron of Khaylamnian Samda. The Great Star Empire composes many planets, and I am lord of but one meager part of it. We do produce a fine liquor in Samda, however, and the next time I return I will bring you a bottle of Samda's finest."

Accelerus nodded respectfully, aknowledging the other man's titles and granting them no significance beyond that. HotRodians had little use for titles, generally. "Thank you kindly. I'm Accelerus Dioce, from the city of Showroomtown. It's a pleasure to meet you."

As an afterthought, he added, "Have you ever tried HotRodia Tequila Negri? It's aged in oak barrels, and has a fine flavor as a result."

"I must say that I have not, but after this most excellent suggestion that you have given me, I'll gladly try another."

He paused, then squinted questioningly at the HotRodian.

"There aren't any laws about intoxication here, are they? I lost a secretary on Kazman Prime when she got hammered and said something crude about the Sultan Osman."

"I must say that I have not, but after this most excellent suggestion that you have given me, I'll gladly try another."

He paused, then squinted questioningly at the HotRodian.

"There aren't any laws about intoxication here, are they? I lost a secretary on Kazman Prime when she got hammered and said something crude about the Sultan Osman."

Accelerus chuckled softly. "Laws? I certainly hope not."

He leaned closer, and took a confidential tone. "And from what I've seen, not even various laws of physics apply here, so I doubt you'll encounter any laws regarding intoxication."

Pendankr smiled and brought the glass to his lips, memories from his youth flooding back to him.

University on Bibliotecos. The summer break on Gish. That one wicked party on Kolthurnia, where the Imperial Guard showed up and packed a bunch of people away for "Gross Acts of Indeceny, Public Lewdness, Insulting the Imperial Family, Grand Larceny, and (oddly enough,) embezzlement... those were the days.

"A round for you, then, my friend!" Pendankr smiled. "The best in the house!"

in the maternity wing of the UN Hospital Midori was now settled into bed as the gnome doctor decided when to start her off.

when Pazu Lenny arrived he was informed of the situation and stayed with her as Yukiko waited for news.

Before too long she she wheeled into the delivery room and the miracle of new life was about to begin.

a few hours later a crying baby girl who Midori named Suki came into the world with her fathers hair and eyes and her mothers olive skin and nose.

However she still had work to do and while Pazy Lenny nursed his daughter Midori concentrated on giving birth to her brother.

...
"A round for you, then, my friend!" Pendankr smiled. "The best in the house!"

"And on the house!" said Neville, hoping the bonhomie didn't ring false.

What with the parturition of Midori and the just-announced promotion to glory (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11634615&postcount=1) of the Hotrodian leader, the Strangers' Bar was going to have to be en fete for at least 24 hours to celebrate.

Which meant free booze. Which meant low profits.

On the other hand, one could always jack up the prices in the restaurant ...

Accelerus smiled boadly at Neville's pronouncement. He was always up for more drinks, and free libations were nothing to be sneezed at.

"Neville, could you get us some food as well, on me? I think I'm going to be here for quite some time."

You know, Neville, the dragon thought, if you're going to keep me waiting in this back room forever, you shouldn't be passing out quite so much of the stuff I'm trying to show you.

It was getting absurdly boring waiting in the back room, observing everything but able to do almost nothing. The thought of breaking out the cell phone and getting the Silent But Deadly brigade (Dastardly Stench's Special Forces--the dragon had a small contingent as a personal guard, though they were almost never needed) into the act had crossed the humble dragon's mind, but it had been banished as quickly as it arose. The SBDs were expert at stealth. They were simply not meant to become involved.

It won't be long, old chap, the dragon continued to himself, until I grow so bored that I leave this place...and, if I do, you may find me all too willing to switch a few bottles of the other brandy in your stores with Aromatic Blue...just for the fun of it!

Until this happened, or Neville decided to make his long-overdue appearance, the dragon continued to stew...and dragon stew is a most unsavory dish.

Looking hunted, Neville slipped into the room and leant against the door.

"Well?" he demanded. "What do you think? What's the decision?"

Without waiting for an answer, he began to pace. "You don't seem to be at all affected," he told the dragon, wonderingly. "The original stuff brought on some sort of epiphany for the Krioval delegation, and your scientists' version has had me teetering on the edge of ethical dilemmas ever since I tasted it, but it doesn't seem to bother you at all!"

Anxiously thinking back over what he'd said, he seemed to reach a conclusion.

"Look, Gurgle, you decide, please," he begged. "Do we go into production and unleash this stuff on the world? Do we keep discreet supplies and dole it out as we judge it's needed -- and who are we to judge? Or could you put some sort of ban on it and keep it strictly limited to Dastardly Stench? Or even destroy the formula? I mean, Zamundan brandy, as itself, packed a punch, but this stuff you've come up with seems to be some sort of meta-Zamundan Brandy: it ta-a-asssstes ex-act-ly-the-saaaame ..." his tirade slowed as he relived the taste " ... but it does a lot more, somehow ..."

Suddenly Neville's normally rather innocent expression changed. His eyes narrowed; he began doing calculations on a drinks coaster. "On the other hand, think of what we could sell it for," he gloated. "Just think, Gurgle, we'd be so rich we could ... buy the UN! Bribe every delegate! Hell, we could run the UN! World domination! Cluichistani Death Stars, pff! We could buy the Kraven Corporation! AMF, even! Those FT nations know how to deal with picayune Death Stars! ..."

He caught sight of the cameras through which Gurgle had been keeping tabs on the action.

"Look at them!" he sneered, eyeing the Bar below. "Innocent of their fate, the little victims played on! MWAHAHAAAA!" He leapt triumphantly atop a table ...

And his expression snapped back to its normal vacuous amiability.

"Gurgle?" he said plaintively. "Gurgle, why are you looking at me like that?"

an hour later an exhausted Midori was cradling her as yet unnamed son while Pazu-Lenny thought about it.

Just like his sister he had fine brown hair and his fathers eyes with Midori's nose and skin tone.

Now bathed he slept contently in Midori's arms as Yukiko used her camera phone to get pictures of the twins.

she had been away from the bar nearly a day and felt the need to return and to tell the good news as both proud parents nursed their children.

###

another hour later after going back to her apartment to get showered and changed she returned to the Bar now wearing a white top and black knee length skirt with her white jacket.

she looked happy as she went to the bar and ordered a beer ready to show the pictures of the twins she had taken having printed them off.

"Here," Gurgle said, holding out a small caraffe of Arogant Bastard Ale in his arogant bastard tail, "have some of this."

So much for lot one, he thought. Let's see about lot two.

Reports of how they'd tested the stuff hadn't reached the dragon. He was going to have to find this out. He was also going to have to convince Neville that he could invite a few friends in for a more or less controlled taste test. After all, the special affects of the Zumandian brandy hadn't become immediately appearant...it had needed to age a while. That the Aromaneers had done this well on such short notice was nothing short of miraculous. To expect it to be perfect at this juncture was...a bit much.

Still, Neville was almost right about the capitalistic aspect of the stuff. The dragon had barely considered this side of the deal. His intent was merely to bring back to the world a treasure that was rapidly disappearing. Though he felt that his nation deserved just compensation for this, he hadn't thought of how much one would charge for...a treasure. Or the things that one could do if one could cut oneself in for a small part of the profit. After all, it wasn't embezzlement if one worked for it. And one could amass a huge pile of gold and just sit there on it and admire the...

Quickly, before it took ahold of him as well, the dragon took a swig of ale from his own stock. It was horribly bitter after the smooth, mellow flavor of Aromatic Blue, but it served its purpose. In a moment, the dragon's composure returned.

"After you've had your draught," he said to the barlord, "I've got a plan to discuss with you."

With a mechanical whirring sound, the pressure suit trundled slowly through the lounge. It leaked, though not too badly; several delegates looked up to watch it pass.

The Special Envoy from the Rogue Pod of Bloodthirsty Dolphins stopped the suit just a few inches short of the bar, cursing in the colorful way dolphins do. Then he eyed the barman.

“You got a Bass-o-Matic?” he squeaked. It was a pretty mean squeak, all the same.

“Yes,” replied the barman. “What are you good for?”

“Holy Mackerel with a spear of Sea Cucumber,” the Envoy ordered imperiously. “Light on the black pepper,” he then added.

“A ... Holy Mackerel?” asked the barman quizzically.

The dolphin glared at him. “A Bloody Mary with pureed mackerel in place of tomato juice, of course!” he sniffed. “Humans...” the surly diplomat grumbled.

“Coming up,” chirped the barman as he tossed the fish into the Bass-o-Matic.

With a mechanical whirring sound, the pressure suit trundled slowly through the lounge. It leaked, though not too badly; several delegates looked up to watch it pass.

The Special Envoy from the Rogue Pod of Bloodthirsty Dolphins stopped the suit just a few inches short of the bar, cursing in the colorful way dolphins do. Then he eyed the barman.

“You got a Bass-o-Matic?” he squeaked. It was a pretty mean squeak, all the same.

“Yes,” replied the barman. “What are you good for?”

“Holy Mackerel with a spear of Sea Cucumber,” the Envoy ordered imperiously. “Light on the black pepper,” he then added.

“A ... Holy Mackerel?” asked the barman quizzically.

The dolphin glared at him. “A Bloody Mary with pureed mackerel in place of tomato juice, of course!” he sniffed. “Humans...” the surly diplomat grumbled.

“Coming up,” chirped the barman as he tossed the fish into the Bass-o-Matic.


Landaman Pendankr eyed the pressure-suited foreigner with a bit of suspicion, and then made his way over to the dolphin-creature and sat down next to it.

"Have you ever had a Pressure Suit? We make them on one of the Imperial Planets that's mostly water. Some brandy, some whisky, some scotch, three anchovies, a filet of perch and some herring oil. It's popular with the local fishermen, though I can't imagine why. Bibliotecan natives have always been a bit daffy."

He paused, and took a drink of his Wild Turkey. Sulla had recommended it in a moment of lucidity, before he collapsed back into a torpor.

"I've only ever had a Pressure Suit once, back in my college days. Took a weeklong break with some buddies from Imperial U and went down to some fishing towns. Hoo boy- picked up some strange drinks and customs along the way. Tried that drink, woke up three days later in a canoe covered with fish."

He paused again, and a devilish smile crept across his face.

"Barkeep, bring me a Pressure Suit. And one for the ambassador here, if he wants it."

Dahlia walked into the bar. She sat at the bar, looking around to see if she recognised anyone. "Bartender, give me something sweet and girly"

* Felix stamps into the establishment, notices a dolphin, growls at it, and procedes to the bar.*

Vodka!

“Herring oil, eh?” mused the Special Envoy. “That'll put hair on your flukes.”

Across the bar, the Ambassador from Community Property rubbed her temples and then self-administered reiki while awaiting her pot of lemon herb tea.

Sei Hei Ki, Sei Hei Ki, Sei Hei Ki, she thought quietly, watching the symbol swirl in her mind's eye. Then the tea was there; she thanked the server, sipped, and relaxed. Or tried to.

Rewrites, the diplomat thought, her blond hair fluttering slightly as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. There are always rewrites, but this is ridiculous, she mused. I'm looking at major overhauls!

She wondered if she should tell the Special Envoy from Bloodthirsty Dolphins what was happening. No, she thought, watching him squeal with delight as he quaffed some new concoction. Let him enjoy himself; it'll get much worse for him soon enough.

The Meddling Monk entered the bar alone and takes a vacant stool. "Gin Martini please, and make it a good one." After getting the martini and taking a sip he starts to pour his heart out. "There was a time when I was really on a roll. Everything was coming up Monk. I thought it would go on forever. Then our Navy walks out and goes home. I loose my werepenguin assistant. And to add insult to injury I have to argue for a bunch of resolutions written by Gruenberg. That past one was a complete piece of trash, although the one currently up for vote is decent. I still miss my assistant. Dam, the sex was great. Ever had sex with a werepenguin? Of course not, that was stupid of me. Forget I ever asked. I'm told I'm going to get a new assistant. I'm told that she's going to be very bright and knowledgeable. But will she love sushi? I never liked sushi until she came into my life. Do you know that uni is really better than an ... oh never-mind."

“Sushi?” squeaked the dolphin. “Did you say 'sushi'? Is that on the menu here?”

“Of course,” said the barman.

“A bowl – no make that two. And another Pressure Suit,” clicked the Special Envoy.

And with that, the dolphin rocked back in his pressure suit and dreamed of being smothered in fish.

Cmdr. Chiang approached the bar, drumming her fingers on the countertop as she scanned the menu. "Hey, Neville! You guys still serve dolphin (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9840195&postcount=2827) here?" she asked loudly.

Wolfgang made a note of this newest delegate, the dolphin, in his computer. He seems in need of a new suit, he thought. He absently began designing a new one in the back of his mind, guessing at everything he didn't know about the species. Just another of his peoples' little pasttimes. He'd have it done in a day or two, and have the computer zap it off to Commonwealth Electronics.

Turning to the envoy, he began, "Greetings. I'm Wolfgang Zero-Thirteen of the Wolf Guardians, Ambassador and information collector. So, how's your time in the UN been? If you don't mind my asking, that is. A bear in here earlier expressed uncertainty as to whether or not nonhumans were accepted here, though I've no doubts, really. (OOC: just added following sentance) And my computer tells me you're assisting with a new proposal dealing with the matter, for which I thank you, on behalf of all Guardians. And how's life in your homeland? Please forgive my curiosity, but I am part cat." His claws clicked quietly on his computer as he furiously tapped out his notes.

The Ambassador from Community Property had slipped the rewrite of her National Overtime Standards resolution – neatly written with a wooden stylus and natural inks on handmade paper – into her wicker binder and was heading for the door when the Kennyite's words caught her ear.

Oh, no, she thought. She didn't need her delphin comrade going tooth and flipper with a human, even one as stupid (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Omigodtheykilledkenny) and deserving as a Kennyite; it would only stir up trouble in the coming debate. Hurrying toward the bar as she heard the dolphin's raucous, chattering stream of obscenities – how did they learn to swear like that?!? - she intercepted the Special Envoy as he turned his mechanical suit to face the object of his fury.

“Don't,” she implored. “I'll take care of it. Just go back to your fish – or leave, if you can't stand it any more.” Then she leaned close enough to the cetacean's ears that no one else could hear. “But I think you're going to want to see this...”

She leaned back, smiling wickedly.

Lilting past the Kennyite as her delphin peer returned to his place at the bar in a huff - and then immediately became distracted as the Ambassador from the Wolf Guardians gratefully stepped in - the willowy blonde slipped behind Commander Chiang, eyes shooting daggers into the d_mn_able woman's back. Payback's a b_tch, girlfriend, she mused intercepting the barman as he prepared to turn in the order. “Neville,” she cooed softly, “I'd like to ask a little favor or you.”

“What's that?” the barkeep asked suspiciously.

Unclipping her handmade earrings and rolling them in a pair of $100 bills – That's more than two years income for the typical family back home! she thought, but now was not the time to hesitate – she asked quietly, “We have zombie nations here in the NSUN, don't we?”

A few minutes later, the barman emerged from the back, carrying a plate with a large, juicy burger on a sesame seed bun. On the side, next to the generous helping of chips, were crisp onion, lettuce, and pickles, with a pair of big, ripe, juicy tomatoes on top. The open face burger was covered by a slice of cheddar cheese; it gave off a slightly fishy odor.

OOC: Just like in the picture, but if that's not how you ordered it, modify accordingly.

Setting down the condiment tray, the bartender said to Commander Chiang: “They you go. Enjoy.” Then he turned away, winking almost imperceptibly at the dolphin.

Cmdr. Chiang approached the bar, drumming her fingers on the countertop as she scanned the menu. "Hey, Neville! You guys still serve dolphin (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9840195&postcount=2827) here?" she asked loudly.

"Yes, of course we serve dolphins," said Neville pointedly. "Cats, wolves, bears, penguins, dragons, invisible beings and unclassified sapients, we serve 'em all."

Please let her take the hint, please, he prayed. But, of course, she was a Kennyite. Hints had to be nuclear-powered to make much of an impact.

As a drowning man sees his life pass before him, so did Neville remember how, some time ago, he had realised that there'd be "a bit of a kerfuffle if someone figured out that an entire section of the menu -- Dauphin en croquette, filets de dauphin, dauphin flambe, etc -- wasn't some sort of obscure tribute to the lost heirs of the French monarchy".

So he'd planned to have a quiet word with the chef, the cheerily outgoing Dazza. De-personify the menu, he had intended to say. Cease with the cetaceans. Sonic sapients are not sanger-suitable.

But had he had that word? Or did the Forbidden Freezer still exist? The one that Daz had provisioned, pointing out, in his breezy fashion, that, after all, there were vampire nations in good standing in the UN, not to mention necrophages and gastro-gnomes, who deserved to have their little quirks catered for.

"I mean, mate, it wouldn't be fair if they couldn't knock back their own special stuff, would it?" Daz had said. "Come in knackered after a hard day in the General Assembly, all you want is a bit of home cookin', throw another shrimp -- or whoever -- on the barbie ... you owe it to the customers, Nev. You can't go all picky on me now."

Oh, why didn't I go all picky? Neville tormented himself. What'll I do if the Building Management get their teeth into this one? Damn all fusion cuisine Australian chefs ... as if Vegemite with everything wasn't bad enough ...

Just one hope glimmered feebly in the darkness. Dazza had winked at him as he handed over the burger; and he, automatically, had copied that wink as he delivered it. So was it, in fact, not-dolphin? Soy dolphin? Dolphin-extender? Dolphin Spam?

With bated breath, he awaited the verdict of Cmdr Chiang's tastebuds.

The monk glanced over at the burger and started quietly laughing. "That's a nice joke, with the Maui-Maui burger. Why they ever called that fish 'dolphin' is beyond me." Looking over at the Kennite he paused, "Oh you thought it was a ... smell it ... fishy ... fish ... no mammal ... oh nevermind ... enjoy."

Turning over to the dolphin he replied, "That Kennite. Dumber than a WerePenguin Blonde, and half as cute. You wouldn't like it anyway, it's cooked."

Stupid Kennite, the Monk thought to himself. Stupid Antarctic Oasis. They got themselves a frigging Death Star. I have got to convince the Master to fund me a good Battlestar. I wonder if dolphins would make great space fighter pilots? I could always use the Tzorsland natives, if they only had something other than drinking that odd drink of theirs. When is my aide going to arrive? What was her name. Ah yes, Agatha.

"Neville," a voice said in the barlord's ear, "why not have them both try some Aromatic Blue? Maybe it'll help ease the mood."

The dragon had obviously graduated from the security cameras to the intercom system, and found the channel for Neville's earpiece.

OOC: I also appear to be lacking in Jolt time these days...

Kiros's head snapped around, allowing the dark-skinned paladin to regard the Chief. "Serph?" he asked, incredulity evident. "What you been sayin' 'bout me?" His attempt at being menacing fell flat as a sneaky grin appeared in short order. "You been tellin' 'bout *that* time...?"

"Here? Of course not."

"Oh." Kiros returned his attention to Hodgelett, vaguely aware he had revealed something that otherwise would have remained secret. He gripped her hand firmly, but not too tightly. "Randomea Island? What's dat like?"

Serph relaxed as he watched Kiros interact with the Randomean diplomat. The Guild's directorate didn't get out much lately, and this trip was meant, in part, to break the endless cycle of work. Except for the Chief Paladin. Even as his demeanor softened, his mind buzzed with activity. Sure, there were those against the Miyamoto technology and cybernetics, but the impants allowed Serph the freedom to collect and process information with few being able to detect it. And so he read about Neville - what little there was publicly available about the man.
Either pretending not to have heard or really having diplomatic deafness, Hodgelett ignored the exchange. "Randomea? Sun, ol' man nature, plenty fishes an' fruits to eat, little wild men livin' in the woods, others livin' in the towns, you know the sorta place."
She was then distracted by the flurry of new visitors, while Neville returned from the kitchen holding aloft one of his famous burgers du dauphin, with yet another shifty smile. Breaking out of her reverie (how long had she been standing there?) she said "Well if you need to know the subject, there he is in all his glory - a charming if slightly vain man, treading a fine line between seducing and affronting delegates, but not actually able to see his feet, a master of what he knows, allured by what he doesn't. And he has something up his sleeve right now...."

Dolphins. Edward snorted at the thought. The sapient dolphins had always been annoying. He was entirely in favor of them having equal rights, insofar as their biology allowed, but sometimes he wanted to eat them for breakfast just so they would quit making those awful noises.

The monk glanced over at the burger and started quietly laughing. "That's a nice joke, with the Maui-Maui burger. Why they ever called that fish 'dolphin' is beyond me." Looking over at the Kennite he paused, "Oh you thought it was a ... smell it ... fishy ... fish ... no mammal ... oh nevermind ... enjoy."

Turning over to the dolphin he replied, "That Kennite. Dumber than a WerePenguin Blonde, and half as cute. You wouldn't like it anyway, it's cooked."“That's assuming that it is Maui-Maui,” quipped the Ambassador from Community Property softly - but just loud enough to be heard by the Kennyite. “But it could be almost anything,” she added, “Seasoned with some kind of fish sauce. For my money, from the consistency, it looks like ... well, head cheese.”

Then, after a pause she asked rhetorically, “But the head of what, I wonder...”

“That's assuming that it is Maui-Maui,” quipped the Ambassador from Community Property softly - but just loud enough to be heard by the Kennyite. “But it could be almost anything,” she added, “Seasoned with some kind of fish sauce. For my money, from the consistency, it looks like ... well, head cheese.”

Then, after a pause she asked rhetorically, “But the head of what, I wonder...”

Pendankr laughed heartily.

"Head cheese! That's nothing compared to what the damn Cascans eat in the Empire. There's this ugly little cross between a bird and a dog, and they catch it and bludgeon it to death with sticks. Not rocks, there's some sort of rule. Then, they cut out the brains and remove the intestines. Jam the brains into the guts and boil it in brine."

He laughed again.

"I can't remember what they call it, but you can smell it from Imperia Prime. They can't get enough of the stuff, too."

He leaned closer to the ambassador from Community Property (but not too close, enough to be proprietary)

"Madam, I think you would like the Cascans. They live mostly in wicker huts and cower in fear when it rains. They have no concept of money, and they also don't have concepts of hygiene. I think you would like Casca quite a bit, ma'am."

He winked, first at her, then at Neville. Lemon herb tea? He hoped she liked it.

"Madam, I think you would like the Cascans. They live mostly in wicker huts and cower in fear when it rains. They have no concept of money, and they also don't have concepts of hygiene. I think you would like Casca quite a bit, ma'am."“I think Cascans would be appalled were they to visit Community Property,” she said with a smile “We run out and play in the rain. But with their love of wicker huts and the lack of money, they'd feel right at home.”

“I think Cascans would be appalled were they to visit Community Property,” she said with a smile “We run out and play in the rain. But with their love of wicker huts and the lack of money, they'd feel right at home.”

"You know it really depends on the type of rain," the Monk replied. "There are some rains you really do need to run away from. There are others where you just need a good acid resistant umbrella. Then there is that pure stuff whcih I don't think has fallen in Tzorsland in years."

Pausing a moment he quickly adds, "I hear the rain is particularly nasty on Venus."

Reluctantly Sammy trudged into the bar, bearing photocopies in one hand, a staple gun in the other. Angrily grumbling to himself over this latest demeaning assignment from the State Department, he eyed the Kawaiian shrine, quietly muttering how that would be "a great place to stick it," and weaved his way toward it through the tables and chairs. Dropping his stack upon a miniature sculpture of the Cute One, he held one of the copies up to the support post and irreverently tacked it into place with two well-placed shots. Standing back to examine his work, he heaved an aggravated sigh and swore softly, caring not whether the nuns could hear him. Here he was, the senior-ranking officer in the Kenny Diplomatic Service, an Army lieutenant, relegated to sticking up fliers. Grudgingly he reclaimed his stack of papers from their desecratory place upon the shrine, and moved on.

He found a bulletin board on the wall, and made sure to fix another ad on it, before heading toward the counter and impatiently summoning the barlord. "Neville!" he called, holding out a flier. Curiously the businessman took it, along with oral instructions from the Kennyite ambassador to have any interested parties call the number on the top. Nervously the boy turned about, stopping at several tables on his way out, trying to interest relaxing delegates into taking one of his ads, but, finding no takers, decided instead to separate a small pile from his master stack and fling it into the air. There better be some big-ass reward for this find, he thought hopefully to himself as he strode toward the exit through the rain of fluttering papers he had created.

"Not That One" had another look at what the Kennyite had thrust at him. Blared the flier, in adorable crayon scrawlings:

CAT FOUND!!!

To identify and claim:
1-800-HOT-SEXX*Touchtone phones only. This number will take you to a main menu, and after negotiating at least a dozen following submenus, each with at least 20 different choices, each more obscene than the last, you will be connected to a surly government operator, who will berate you for the better part of half an hour for interrupting her game of computer solitaire, but with some cajoling will eventually transfer you to some low-level Kennyite official who may or may not know anything about your stupid cat.

P.S. Jack Riley? Never heard of him. You must be thinking of some other psychopath from some other witheringly insane nation.

P.P.S. Your "GrandAlf" owes at least $4 million in back taxes. Please remand him to the nearest Kennyite consulate so he may be properly extradited. Thank you.* OOC: The toll-free line for the OMGTKK federal government.

"You know it really depends on the type of rain," the Monk replied. "There are some rains you really do need to run away from. There are others where you just need a good acid resistant umbrella. Then there is that pure stuff whcih I don't think has fallen in Tzorsland in years."

Pausing a moment he quickly adds, "I hear the rain is particularly nasty on Venus."

Pendankr nodded in solidarity with the Monk.

"Acid rain is no laughing matter, unless you're in the Fleet. Then, it's hilarious when it's used to put down rebellions. Now, there is reputedly a planet in our Empire that frequently produces acid rain, though I have never been there nor seen the report. The rumour has it that communists from Vardacia live there, hiding in the trees and cursing the Emperor's name."

Leaning back, he gestured toward the barlord.

"Neville, my dear man, bring the nice lady from Community Property a pot of Pu-Erh tea. Tisanes get boring, and if I'm not mistaken, the lady is not one who..." he dropped to a whisper, just in case Sen. Sulla was awake... "enjoys alcoholic beverages."

Kemintiri gracefully walked into this new place. She looked around to see a mass of unusual individuals, shrugged and walked over to the bar. "May I have some beer, please"

After being handed her drink, she searched for a table off in a corner. Finding one, she sat, ready to observe her new neighbours.

Having given up on the Bloodthirsty Dolphin's response, as that delegate seemed to have fallen asleep inside his still-standing pressure suit, Wolfgang returned to his nonalcoholic drinking. What's he dreaming about in there? He wondered with an inner chuckle. A few minutes later, his minicomputer chimed and a small holographic wolf materialized, apparently standing about four inches tall on top of the device's screen. In a voice so quiet only the most sensitive of ears would've heard it, the device whispered, "The Clothing Supply Pact failed." At this, Wolfgang slammed a hand down on the device, silencing it and scattering the hologram. He then proceded to bark, howl, and hiss alternately in a combination that would've been very, very, very unbecoming in the Commonwealth.

Calming down, he gently pressed one of the device's buttons and told it to send Gruenberg his condolences, and to tell the Alpha that the production of the Laser Anti-Moron Expedient (OOC:LOL, it took FOREVER to find an E word that had any relevance) needed to be stepped up. He then turned to the representative whose name, as he recalled, was Pendankr, and asked, "Is acid rain a great problem elsewhere in the world? Our force-defense system does screwy things with the atmosphere around the Commonwealth, luckily for the better, so we've little experience with acid rain and other such foreign pollutants, and it usually happens on the outermost, sparsely populated areas."

The Wolf Guardians;11683759']Having given up on the Bloodthirsty Dolphin's response, as that delegate seemed to have fallen asleep inside his still-standing pressure suit, Wolfgang returned to his nonalcoholic drinking. What's he dreaming about in there? He wondered with an inner chuckle. A few minutes later, his minicomputer chimed and a small holographic wolf materialized, apparently standing about four inches tall on top of the device's screen. In a voice so quiet only the most sensitive of ears would've heard it, the device whispered, "The Clothing Supply Pact failed." At this, Wolfgang slammed a hand down on the device, silencing it and scattering the hologram. He then proceded to bark, howl, and hiss alternately in a combination that would've been very, very, very unbecoming in the Commonwealth.

Calming down, he gently pressed one of the device's buttons and told it to send Gruenberg his condolences, and to tell the Alpha that the production of the Laser Anti-Moron Expedient (OOC:LOL, it took FOREVER to find an E word that had any relevance) needed to be stepped up. He then turned to the representative whose name, as he recalled, was Pendankr, and asked, "Is acid rain a great problem elsewhere in the world? Our force-defense system does screwy things with the atmosphere around the Commonwealth, luckily for the better, so we've little experience with acid rain and other such foreign pollutants, and it usually happens on the outermost, sparsely populated areas."

Pendankr smiled.

"Just on that particular planet. Our Empire encompasses some 200 worlds, but we really only have that problem on any other planet. We have had issues, however, with orbital defense platforms malfunctioning and obliterating whole cities. But generally, we just blame that on "rebels" and everything's peachy."

"On the planet Wayland, though, industrial pollution is a slight problem... Wayland's one of our Forge Worlds, and is very big in the metals industry. The average lifespan for a worker on the Wayland is about 100, give or take."

Wolfgang cocked his head in a quizical gesture. "100? One hundred what, might I ask? You say it as though that's a short time, whereas it is actually quite old to most other species that I know of. Of course, I'm 172 Earth years old, myself, and still quite young by our standards, despite being the oldest person in the Commonwealth. Of course, technically, we don't know how long we'll live." Intrigued, he had resumed tapping furiously on his computer, wondering if he'd met another extemely long-lived race. Solid alliances can be built when the original forgers of that alliance are going to be around for centuries.

Pendankr furrowed his brow as he thought about the question.

"I suppose it's one hundred Earth years. See, we are humans (homo sapiens, as we've learned), and legends place our people on Earth. Somehow, in the distant past, a wormhole transported a great number of people to planets in what is now the Empire. There's all manner of legends and theories about it, but no one quite knows what happened."

He took a drink.

"I'm no scientist, but the average lifespan of an Imperial citizen is about 300 Gaian years, give or take. I'm about 220 myself. No one's ever been able to figure out why we live so long, but it's most likely a combination of diet, planetary ecosystesm, and technology. But like I said, we're not sure."

He paused, and eyed Wolfgang.

"Strangely enough, there are no "aliens" as the term is used here. There are some other nations surrounding our interstellar Empire- the Zurrians, the Beldani, the Dakashi... and most recently the Emperor's grandfather completed a marriage agreement with the Taganar of Tangallamarnay... but these nations are mostly human as well. Come to think of it, you're one of the first non-human races I've ever come across."

Accelerus Dioce had been idly listening to the conversation between Pendankr and Wolfgang, but with the mention of ages stopped drinking copiously and interjected.

"I'm only 127 years old. Y'all are making me feel young. Your next drinks are on me."

Accelerus Dioce had been idly listening to the conversation between Pendankr and Wolfgang, but with the mention of ages stopped drinking copiously and interjected.

"I'm only 127 years old. Y'all are making me feel young. Your next drinks are on me."

Landaman Pendankr smiled with the offer.

"My thanks! Next time the wormhole opens up, you have my invitation to come visit the Empire. For security reason, you'll have to have a Zurrian passport, but I'm sure you'd love the weather on Gish."

"Might I send an observer team for the Commonwealth, as well? I'm sure I could round up a suitable Guardian group somewhere." He tapped out an order to the computer, which set about finding people, and automatically notifying them. "You said wormhole? Is it natural? Our only actual interstellar vessel uses a captive black hole to generate all of its energies, though no-one is quite sure... er... how. Do you have to wait for this wormhole to open, or can your people force it open? Is it always the exact same wormhole, or a series of identical ones?" In this exciting place, so different from the Commonwealth, Wolfgang was developing what was probably an irritating habit of rapid-fire questioning, allowing his catlike curiosity to get the better of him.

The computer quietly noticed this, and would have a preprogrammed thing or two to say to him later, yes it would. Not that he'd listen. It would have to tell the Alpha, who'd reprimand him personally for being irritating. That'd show him what happens to people who beat it at CounterStrike. Oh, yes. Suddenly, its 'consciousness' was invaded by the message, IRRATIONAL ACTIVITY. DIAGNOSTICS IN PROGRESS. Oh, damn, it thought.

"Well...I'm going to have to get back to rubbing limb joints," the dragon said.

After imbibing his antidote, Neville had simply walked out of the back room in a daze. Gurgle wondered if the barlord would remember anything that had happened. He had even ignored the dragon's attempts to contact him using the intercom system that was built into the room. It was simply taking too long.

"If he wants to talk, he'll talk," the dragon rationalized. "Negotiating is, after all, what we diplomats do. If he doesn't, he won't. Not distributing Aromatic Blue won't break Dastardly Stench, so there's no harm done."

With that, the dragon stood up and began his liesurely stroll back into the bar.

"Wonder what Pendankr is going to make of me," he mused to himself with a chuckle.

Yukiko's phone went off and she left the bar to answer it. A new proposal was up for vote and Kaigan was bringing her up to speed on it.

a little while later she was back in the office discussing how they would vote on the repeal.

The Wolf Guardians;11686078']"Might I send an observer team for the Commonwealth, as well? I'm sure I could round up a suitable Guardian group somewhere." He tapped out an order to the computer, which set about finding people, and automatically notifying them. "You said wormhole? Is it natural? Our only actual interstellar vessel uses a captive black hole to generate all of its energies, though no-one is quite sure... er... how. Do you have to wait for this wormhole to open, or can your people force it open? Is it always the exact same wormhole, or a series of identical ones?" In this exciting place, so different from the Commonwealth, Wolfgang was developing what was probably an irritating habit of rapid-fire questioning, allowing his catlike curiosity to get the better of him.

The computer quietly noticed this, and would have a preprogrammed thing or two to say to him later, yes it would. Not that he'd listen. It would have to tell the Alpha, who'd reprimand him personally for being irritating. That'd show him what happens to people who beat it at CounterStrike. Oh, yes. Suddenly, its 'consciousness' was invaded by the message, IRRATIONAL ACTIVITY. DIAGNOSTICS IN PROGRESS. Oh, damn, it thought.

Pendankr took Wolfgang's questions in stride.

"Well, I'm not sicentist and I don't have a high enough clearance, but as I understand it, our scientists created a wormhole by artifical means that connected with the Union of Independent Nations. That's how we get here. I think we can turn it on or off at will, but it's on a schedule to account for the UN floor debates and the Union timetables. There are some theories that try to place the Great Event around a wormhole of the same kind, but I don't really know at all."

He furrowed his brow with Wolfgang's request.

"Non-Imperial races, nations, and ephemera are either covered up, liquidated, or invaded. That's why all travelers from beyond our existence need Zurrian Trader passports. I don't have the proper authority to let a team of yours in, but I can grease the wheels with the Director of the Interior."

When the dragon came sauntering out of the back room, Pendankr carefully set his glass down on the bar and blinked.

'Birkhmag!" he said astonishedly, slipping into his native tongue. "Ga thu orna mat phurimaj!"

He took a swig of his Wild Turkey and addressed the creature.

"Where are you from? I've only ever seen pictures of things like you on Bibliotecos... They say you live in the deepest seas on that planet. You're not from our Empire, are you?"

"Hmm..." Wolfgang was slightly unnerved by the thought that another race would arbitrarily try to take over his own, but was assured by the fact that the OMFG was quite an awful lot of impenetrable. What was it that scientist said? 'Earth could be destroyed in a supernova, and we'd be spinning off into space, still intact'? A mental chuckle. His now-sane computer chimed and begrudgingly informed him of the current Resolution at vote, and he told it to vote accordingly. His holographic double sitting in the chamber was doing its job well. So well, he might just take up residence here in the bar... He turned about and tapped the still apparently-sleeping Bloodthirsty Dolphin's suit, which remained inert. Sigh. Oh, wait... Dragon? That actually made him -embarrasingly- wag his tail. Amazing! "Yes, do tell, please. Are you cold-blooded? Are you typical of your people? Can you breath fire, as in the legends most Earth cultures tell?"

Reluctantly Sammy trudged into the bar, bearing photocopies in one hand, a staple gun in the other. Angrily grumbling to himself over this latest demeaning assignment from the State Department, he eyed the Kawaiian shrine, quietly muttering how that would be "a great place to stick it," and weaved his way toward it through the tables and chairs. Dropping his stack upon a miniature sculpture of the Cute One, he held one of the copies up to the support post and irreverently tacked it into place with two well-placed shots. Standing back to examine his work, he heaved an aggravated sigh and swore softly, caring not whether the nuns could hear him. Here he was, the senior-ranking officer in the Kenny Diplomatic Service, an Army lieutenant, relegated to sticking up fliers. Grudgingly he reclaimed his stack of papers from their desecratory place upon the shrine, and moved on.

The younger shrine maiden, still exploring the disapperance of the whiskey-thieving otter, turned back to the Shrine and shrieked, "Aiya!" as she saw the impious Kennyite tacking up a missive to the pole supporting the Shrine, as if the home of the Manifestation of the Cute One was some kind of vulgar public kiosk! She rushed over to the pole and ripped off the tacked missive, and made numerous bows towards the edifice, repeating "gomen nasai, gomen, gomen!" making amends for her lax behavior.

Meanwhile the old nekomusume, having exhausted her sales pitch for religious pilgramage to the delegate from Bears Armed, turned and headed back to her booth, only to find Sammy dumping a stack of papers unceremoniously upon some macrame icons she had been laboriously knitting earlier that day. Furious, she marched over towards him with a face that would impress even a Bahgumian mother-in-law, and said in a voice that could cut diamonds, "Pardon me young man, but just what may you be doing?"

Accelerus Dioce took his drink and wandered away, thinking to himself. Some folks are just excitable, acting like that. It's just a dragon. He let out an audible snort of disappointment, and began looking for another spot to finish drinking.

The Wolf Guardians;11690692']"Hmm..." Wolfgang was slightly unnerved by the thought that another race would arbitrarily try to take over his own, but was assured by the fact that the OMFG was quite an awful lot of impenetrable. What was it that scientist said? 'Earth could be destroyed in a supernova, and we'd be spinning off into space, still intact'? A mental chuckle. His now-sane computer chimed and begrudgingly informed him of the current Resolution at vote, and he told it to vote accordingly. His holographic double sitting in the chamber was doing its job well. So well, he might just take up residence here in the bar... He turned about and tapped the still apparently-sleeping Bloodthirsty Dolphin's suit, which remained inert. Sigh. Oh, wait... Dragon? That actually made him -embarrasingly- wag his tail. Amazing! "Yes, do tell, please. Are you cold-blooded? Are you typical of your people? Can you breath fire, as in the legends most Earth cultures tell?"

"Well, sir, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your aquaintance," the dragon said. "My name is Gurgle, and I'm the ambassador from the Dominion of Dastardly Stench. Technically, I am an endotherm, but I'm large enough, and my scales enough of an insulator, that I hold heat like the so-called warm-blooded. And I am a Musk Dragon. I don't breath fire. I do, however, have a special magical spell that allows me certain liberties with...other emissions that I must make from time to time. You will, for instance, note that the room around you now smells distinctly of Pine Forrest.

"May I ask your name, the nation that you serve, and the capacity in which you serve it? I've...been away for a short while and need to catch up."

Jack Patch, newly voted ambasador to the N.S.U.N from The Democratic States of Arlette sauntered into the bar to have a nip of rum after casting a vote as Cap'n Arlette had directed - "We don't need anyone telling us to subsidize our hemp or any other crop..." With his ornate, cerimonial flintlocks in his sash, and took off his tricorn and sat at the bar to contemplate the fine liquid. 'Tis allways good to drink. He felt that there were some fine accords to be coming to vote soon. We may yet make a difference. He thought as he eyed the crowd.

having voted and spoken in the debate on the repeal Kaigan Miromuta and Yukiko Uehara entered the bar.

they were an odd pair pair with Kaigan wearing his dark blue army uniform and Yukiko wearing her white top, a black skirt and a white jacket.

they made their way to the bar Yukiko ordering a beer and Kaigan ordering a coffee.

It was then that Yukiko noticed the new face and went over to the stranger.

"Hello" she said "Welcome to the strangers bar. I'm Yukiko Uehara, the deputy ambassador from the Empire of Kirisubo"

It was then that Yukiko noticed the new face and went over to the stranger.

"Hello" she said "Welcome to the strangers bar. I'm Yukiko Uehara, the deputy ambassador from the Empire of Kirisubo"

Jack appraised the woman, Yukiko, with his one good eye and introduced himself. "Jack Patch, Cap'n Arlette's elected representitive. Most just call me Jack." He sipped some rum and giving her his best smile. "Any excitement to be found 'round here?"

There is a rumbling sound from the corridor outside the Bar, and then a Bear -- wearing mirrored sunglasses, and a black leather jacket whose back is decorated with an inscription (in the Bears' own script, with which I doubt any of the other nations' delegates present would be familiar) around a garish picture of an axe-wielding ursine skeleton -- rides a motorcycle slowly into the room. He manouvers carefully through the assembled dignitaries until he reaches Borrin o Redwood, hands that person a rolled-up scroll, and then leaves as he'd arrived.
Borrin puts on a pair of spectacles, undoes the scroll, reads it -- a low growling noise starting to rise in his throat as he takes the contents in -- and then stuffs it into one of his jacket pockets, carefully puts the spectacles back into their case and into another pocket, and then raises himself to his full height. He looks around the room, with what anybody who's familiar with Bears would recognise as a distinctly annoyed expression.

"Can any of you," he enquires in a tone that suggests he is working hard to refrain from shouting, "tell me whether the nation of Swilatia has an ambassador here?"

_________________________________________________________

OOC: Swilatia is setting up a Worldvision Song Contest (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=499900). Their response to the Bears' application for a place in this, earlier today, did not promote good inter-species relations...

Jack appraised the woman, Yukiko, with his one good eye and introduced himself. "Jack Patch, Cap'n Arlette's elected representitive. Most just call me Jack." He sipped some rum and giving her his best smile. "Any excitement to be found 'round here?"

"this place has its moments especially when the Kennyites are here" Yukiko replies with a smile.

"they also serve most drinks you can imagine and do food but I haven't tried the Australian fusion style yet.

theres also a karioke machine, a pool table, a pinball machine and a dance game here as well"

Her beer arrives and she pays Violet sitting on a stool next to Jack.

"Here, give this to the lady with the pirate," said Daz, grabbing Violet's arm as she turned back the till. His chef's hat hung askew over one eye; he was obviously in a hurry. He thrust a loaded tray at the startled barmaid.

"Wha ...?"

"Sushi pizza. Spaghetti bolognese and avocado burger. And Greek salad with pineapple, mango, plum and banana. All with chips. Just be sure to tell her, compliments of the chef."

The ex-shearers'-cook popped back into his lair and Violet obediently delivered the tray.

"Well, sir, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your aquaintance," the dragon said. "My name is Gurgle, and I'm the ambassador from the Dominion of Dastardly Stench. Technically, I am an endotherm, but I'm large enough, and my scales enough of an insulator, that I hold heat like the so-called warm-blooded. And I am a Musk Dragon. I don't breath fire. I do, however, have a special magical spell that allows me certain liberties with...other emissions that I must make from time to time. You will, for instance, note that the room around you now smells distinctly of Pine Forrest.

"May I ask your name, the nation that you serve, and the capacity in which you serve it? I've...been away for a short while and need to catch up."

(OOC: To my confusion, and subsequently Wolfgang's, though he'll pretend like he's not, endotherm seems to mean warm-blooded, though I seem to understand that Gurgle is not. Ectotherm, perhaps? Anyway, off to make Wolfgang's dossier file on you:))

Extending a clawed hand, he explained, "I am Wolfgang Zero Thirteen, citizen and UN-Ambassador of the Commonwealth of the Wolf Guardians, Earth. I handle all of the UN duties for my country, at the will of my boss, the Alpha Elect. Where is your Dominion located? The term "Musk Dragon" holds no meaning to me. I presume this is a specific type of dragon? Does your society contain multiple variants, then?" He paused, looking at the notes on his computer. "Oh, and how do you view the rights granted towards nonhumans in the UN? Do you feel they're on par with human rights? Do you feel accepted here?" Once again almost unheard, his computer whispered at him to "shut up and let the man speak," which he decided was a good idea, so he took a drink to try pause nonobviously.

The Wolf Guardians;11714919'](OOC: To my confusion, and subsequently Wolfgang's, though he'll pretend like he's not, endotherm seems to mean warm-blooded, though I seem to understand that Gurgle is not. Ectotherm, perhaps? Anyway, off to make Wolfgang's dossier file on you:))

OOC: Yes, "ectotherm" is actually correct. Thank you for paying attention.

The Wolf Guardians;11714919']Extending a clawed hand, he explained, "I am Wolfgang Zero Thirteen, citizen and UN-Ambassador of the Commonwealth of the Wolf Guardians, Earth. I handle all of the UN duties for my country, at the will of my boss, the Alpha Elect. Where is your Dominion located? The term "Musk Dragon" holds no meaning to me. I presume this is a specific type of dragon? Does your society contain multiple variants, then?" He paused, looking at the notes on his computer. "Oh, and how do you view the rights granted towards nonhumans in the UN? Do you feel they're on par with human rights? Do you feel accepted here?" Once again almost unheard, his computer whispered at him to "shut up and let the man speak," which he decided was a good idea, so he took a drink to try pause nonobviously.

"Why, Ambassador Thirteen, I'm surprised at you. Of course there are many subspecies of dragon, just as there are many subspecies of bear. Would you have trouble distinguishing a Polar Bear from a Grizzley? We Musk Dragons are distinguished by our bronze scales, with a more coppery colour on the top; deftly prehensile tails," to emphasize the point, the dragon gently took his counterpart's hand in his tail, "and...well, it's probably not polite to talk about the aiming mechanism, isn't it? Musk dragons are particularly rare, Mr. Ambassador, and that is why I haven't found a mate despite quite a long search. We're a winged species, though we haven't completely lost the ability to swim or burrow, as some airborn species have.

"But enough about me. Yes, the Dominion of Dastardly Stench is located within the Magical Realm. There's a portal between here and there within the NSUN main building. It's another universe entirely--and magic is much more common and much easier to work there than it is here.

"As to the rights that I am afforded, I've never had any trouble with the semiaquatic apes that populate this dimension in such great numbers. I respect them and they respect me. Some do gape at first, but the novelty wears off. We have more in common than one might think, and we all have certain common goals for which we strive.

"And please tell your computer that dragons have extremely sharp hearing, and that I am not a man.

"So...who elects your Alpha Elect? What form of government do you practice? Where, precisely, is your nation located? What are your chief exports? Imports? What would you like to imort? How do you feel about National Sovernty? What is..."

And so the diplomatic process once again began in earnest. :) :) :)

Ambassador Pendankr listened intently, noting every word.

"Fascinating. I know some scientists who'd love to take a look at you, but I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy that. It's interesting - we have creatures that fit your definition in the deepest oceans of our sea planets, and here I find you, able to speak."

He took a look at the dragon more intensely.

"Of course, the University never captured a Kareu Sea King before, so I suppose you are two completely different things."

"domo arigato" Yukiko replied accepting the tray.

she turned back to Jack and said "dig in. theres far too much for me to eat" as she waves Kaigan over.

"this is my boss Samurai-Captain Kaigan Miromuta, our UN Ambassador and he's not realy that scary" she says introducing the middle aged man in the dark blue uniform.

OOC: lol, excellent.

(Continuing the conversation between the Guardian and the dragon)

IC: "Ah, well, call me Wolfgang or Zero-Thirteen, please. Saying Thirteen probably won't get my attention in a crowded room and the like. And, I realized that there were probably multiple variants, but didn't know whether or not your society included them all, or a specific one. And, you'll have to forgive my computer. It's quite insane, despite my best efforts to fix it. It's also far too useful, even insane, for me to get rid of. Oh, and if you're ever in a debate with me and I act oddly, it's probably a hologram of me that the computer controls. Psychotic thing. At least it keeps me from having to do... you know, work.

"Anywho, the entire citizenry of the Commonwealth elects the Alpha. Although Andrew is very young by our standards, he is still an excellent leader, and selected excellent Betas to help him. The UN currently has us classed as a Centrist Democracy, though we're usually a little more left than that. We give the people the freedom to do anything that won't kill someone, really, but we also keep the necessary businesses from taking over by regulating them a lot. The Commonwealth is on Pacifica, a seemingly small island in the Pacific Ocean of Earth. We accomodate our population by interdimensional methods, allowing us to save incredible space on everything. As for imports and exports... We're very self contained. We have no needs to speak of. Except cultural things. Entertainment, art, et cetera. Our nation has very little, since our original population was created rather suddenly. We will take anything of such value that we can get.

"Sigh... National Sovereignty. We find this confusing, and thus tend to ignore issues heavy in it. This... definition of marriage, for instance. We let any group of beings of legal age that can show legal consent to do so, get married. So, we've no definition, really. And, any definition passes, the Beta of Legal Interpretations informs me he'll let loose the Loophole Exploitation Team to insure it doesn't change anything for us. On the other hand... sometimes it seems to us like people use NatSov as an excuse against things they don't like. But, I'll let the computer worry about that, since it's already insane, and I don't want to be." At this point, the small device chirped in a way that seemed to signify annoyance, to which Wolfgang slammed his hand down on it. "So, tell me about your government. And, about this magic. And, do you have an office here in the building? I've applied for one, but the bloody management is taking its time. I'd like one on the 69th and three quarters floor, for the view, assuming I can. Not that I have a staff, it's just me, really." His computer tried to interrupt again, and in response, he shot it with the HSD gun. That stupid thing is going to have to learn when to shut up.

Cmdr. Chiang couldn't help but be amused as she overheard the wolf-man (or is it man-wolf? hmm) reveal that his nation had its own Creative Solutions Agency counterpart, and that TWG's legal advisors even went so far as to Godmode and pretend as though the loophole exploitation would leave them all but exempt from UN mandates. Just like in the Federal Republic! she thought with a sentimental sniffle, a tear running down her cheek. Man, that Zero-13 really knew how to make a girl feel homesick.

"Wolfgang's next drink is on me," she informed Neville as she raised her glass of Jameson to the Wolf Guardians ambassador.

Wolfgang, seeing the look from one "Commander Chiang", as he recalled, was momentarily off-guard, but accepted the refill of his nonalcoholic beverage and returned the salute. I shall have to enquire as to what that was about, later, he thought. Perhaps he'd somehow made another ally. He discreetly tapped a note on his computer.

The Wolf Guardians;11718185']Wolfgang, seeing the look from one "Commander Chiang", as he recalled, was momentarily off-guard, but accepted the refill of his nonalcoholic beverage and returned the salute. I shall have to enquire as to what that was about, later, he thought. Perhaps he'd somehow made another ally. He discreetly tapped a note on his computer.

Pendankr eyed Wolfgang.

"Are you... a clone, then? That guy Discowhatsisname is a clone, I think. How interesting..."

He went to take a drink, but noticed his glass was empty. Taking a step over to the bar, he stepped in some of the leaking water from the inert Bloodthirsty Dolphin. Nearly losing his footing, he caught himself on the bar, and swore loudly at the large creature. He turned to Neville.

"Can't you get a mop out here and clean this up? Damn thing's leaking all over the place... maybe you should put him in the closet until he wakes up, or something. Oh, and get me some more of that brandy."

Momentarily distracted again, Wolfgang gave some thought to the question. "Yes, I seem to recall that person. Hmm... we're... created by an extemely similar process, but we are genetically not identical. We were originally designed to be an army, you see, and that's how our... masters," he hissed the word, "first created us. Why do you ask?"

OOC: I apologize for the lengthy nature of most of my posts here. My laptop's monitor operates at 1920x1200 res, so I tend to not realize how long whatever I'm typing really is, since it's not that long on my screen. It just occurred to me earlier today, when I logged in on one of the computers here at my job, and post no. 4187 took up the entire screen. Sorry!

The Wolf Guardians;11718677']Momentarily distracted again, Wolfgang gave some thought to the question. "Yes, I seem to recall that person. Hmm... we're... created by an extemely similar process, but we are genetically not identical. We were originally designed to be an army, you see, and that's how our... masters," he hissed the word, "first created us. Why do you ask?"

OOC: I apologize for the lengthy nature of most of my posts here. My laptop's monitor operates at 1920x1200 res, so I tend to not realize how long whatever I'm typing really is, since it's not that long on my screen. It just occurred to me earlier today, when I logged in on one of the computers here at my job, and post no. 4187 took up the entire screen. Sorry!

"Oh... well, in our Empire you don't run across many talking bipedal wolves. That's why I asked."

Neville was entering that familiar "I-wish-there-were-six-of-me" state. Take it easy, he adjured himself. One step at a time. First things first.

Which meant Ambassador Pendankr, since he was only slightly less crotchety than old Dioce. Brandy, he wanted. Funny, Neville thought, wasn't Wild Turkey his chosen tipple? But he provided the brandy nevertheless, pouring it with due ceremony from the prototype bottle Gurgle had given him.

He didn't wait to see the Ambassador's reaction; he was too busy making a circle round the Bloodthirsty Dolphins delegate with some patented Acme Kwikset Gapfill. It made a little rim, like a lunar crater, that would contain the water for a short time. That should keep it from spreading out onto the bar floor and disturbing the customers. Deftly, Neville drilled several small drainage holes within the circle. True, it would drip on anyone below, but Neville was never really sure what was below the Bar, anyway. He hoped it was the Building Management's office, or the Secretary-General's, or ... for a moment he lost himself in happy dreams of what effect a dripping ceiling would have on certain select delegations. Even if you've got a frikkin' Death Star, a dripping ceiling can be extremely annoying.

Funny, but ever since that last drink with the dragon, all his concerns about ethics and morality and all that stuff had cleared away. It was brandy; fine brandy, to be sure, but brandy. He must have a word with Gurgle about supplying it in commercial quantities; and he'd better get in before the House of Wonders cottoned on, too. The Strangers Bar had to hang on to its reputation for exclusivity. Surely Gurgle wouldn't set the price too high, given Neville's role in securing the original ...

He was happily pondering simple commercial matters when a sudden disturbance in the force of the Bar's natural ebb and flow of custom caught his eye. Dicey Reilly, Co-President of Ardchoille; Ben Chifley, the other Co-President; good grief (PG-13 exclamation!), the High Priest, whom Neville had believed was practically sessile; McGonnagle, the Secretary for Situations Like This; and -- yes, it was -- Bast, the formerly kidnapped Cat!

They strutted, they pranced, they swaggered, they oozed good-fellowship and bonhomie.

"Drinks on the house!" proclaimed Dicey, as if she hadn't a care in the world. "We're celebrating Ben's RW birthday!"

"Oh... well, in our Empire you don't run across many talking bipedal wolves. That's why I asked."

Taking note of the strange procession entering the Bar, which included an odd cat and yet another complete stranger apparently willing to pay for his -and everyone else's- drink, Wolfgang had to give this further thought. "While I see where you're coming from there, you did say that you," he glanced at his computer, "'cover up, liquidate, or invade' any 'nonImperials' you come across, and, despite the presumably great size of your Empire, the Multiverse is a very, very large place, so it can be assumed that, somewhere, something similar to us has evolved naturally. Since I hadn't mentioned our artificial nature, I didn't think you'd know that, and momentarily thought you might have been... a Creator," another word he apparently despised, "in which case I'd have to kill you on the spot." He then noticed the ragged appearance of the barman, and pulled up a file on the holographic emitters that he used on his computer, and handed this across the bar. "Just tell me if you want a few. I haven't been in the UN chambers for weeks." Turning to the strange girl paying for his latest drink, he asked, "Whose birthday?"

"Ben's; my Co-President's" Dicey explained. "See, thanks to a freak surfing accident (which is really freaky, because Ardchoille's virtually land-locked), Ben's parents were washed ashore in a part of the Real World -- in another dimension," she amended hurriedly, seeing her interlocutor look puzzled.

"As a result, Ben became what they call Prime Minister of a Real World -- er, other-dimensional -- country called Australia. We had to fake his death to get him back. But he was very attached to the place, so we always throw a party for him on the anniversary of his Australian birth.

"Personally, I think it's the least we could do. Because when he came back, he was charged under Ardchoillean laws with contributing to a potential security breach. Like, if someone had actually noticed that he didn't really age, the Australians might have cottoned-on to the fact that Australia wasn't the only place in the world, and letting them get that sort of knowledge would breach our laws of First Contact and so forth."

Noticing a certain glazing of Wolfgang's eyes, Dicey hurried to finish: "So he was condemned to be Co-President. Public service is one of the penalties in Ardchoille for egregious crimes against the State. But he's amazing, you know? The things he learned from the Australian political parties! He can stack a branch faster than anyone I know, and you should see him swing a pre-selection! He's a really persistent little factionalist, a bugger of a numbers man, he can dog-whistle like a pro and the rules he can't bush-lawyer haven't been written yet!"

Dicey often forgot that other nations didn't treat politics as sport. Sometimes she wished that she could visit Ben's mythical Australia. There, too, it seemed, they knew how to take the game seriously.

the doors opened again and Midori Kasigi-Nero appeared pushing a double buggy.

she was wearing a green kimono tied up with a yellow obi and the babies were also in little kimonos as well.

Suki her daughter was wearing pink and Riyku her son was wearing dark blue.

she looked more like her normal self and smiled when she seen Kaigan and Yukiko.

The Wolf Guardians;11719644']Taking note of the strange procession entering the Bar, which included an odd cat and yet another complete stranger apparently willing to pay for his -and everyone else's- drink, Wolfgang had to give this further thought. "While I see where you're coming from there, you did say that you," he glanced at his computer, "'cover up, liquidate, or invade' any 'nonImperials' you come across, and, despite the presumably great size of your Empire, the Multiverse is a very, very large place, so it can be assumed that, somewhere, something similar to us has evolved naturally. Since I hadn't mentioned our artificial nature, I didn't think you'd know that, and momentarily thought you might have been... a Creator," another word he apparently despised, "in which case I'd have to kill you on the spot." He then noticed the ragged appearance of the barman, and pulled up a file on the holographic emitters that he used on his computer, and handed this across the bar. "Just tell me if you want a few. I haven't been in the UN chambers for weeks." Turning to the strange girl paying for his latest drink, he asked, "Whose birthday?"

Pendankr put up his hands in defense.

"No, no. We have no records of any alien species in the Empire, indigenous or engineered. The only genetic experiments I can ever recall were the Sea Chief experiments on Gandar."

He took a short drink of his brandy, the liquid warming his mouth and throat.

"Let me explain our policy: the Empire has never run across any non-human races in the Galaxy. Those races I named earlier are all humans, although we don't like to admit it. We aren't sure where they came from, but we know they don't share the origins that we have from the Great Event. It's policy to deny the existence of things beyond the scope of the galaxy we already know to exist, such at the UN or the rest of the NS world."

"Ben's; my Co-President's" Dicey explained. "See, thanks to a freak surfing accident (which is really freaky, because Ardchoille's virtually land-locked), Ben's parents were washed ashore in a part of the Real World -- in another dimension," she amended hurriedly, seeing her interlocutor look puzzled.

"As a result, Ben became what they call Prime Minister of a Real World -- er, other-dimensional -- country called Australia. We had to fake his death to get him back. But he was very attached to the place, so we always throw a party for him on the anniversary of his Australian birth.

"Personally, I think it's the least we could do. Because when he came back, he was charged under Ardchoillean laws with contributing to a potential security breach. Like, if someone had actually noticed that he didn't really age, the Australians might have cottoned-on to the fact that Australia wasn't the only place in the world, and letting them get that sort of knowledge would breach our laws of First Contact and so forth."

Noticing a certain glazing of Wolfgang's eyes, Dicey hurried to finish: "So he was condemned to be Co-President. Public service is one of the penalties in Ardchoille for egregious crimes against the State. But he's amazing, you know? The things he learned from the Australian political parties! He can stack a branch faster than anyone I know, and you should see him swing a pre-selection! He's a really persistent little factionalist, a bugger of a numbers man, he can dog-whistle like a pro and the rules he can't bush-lawyer haven't been written yet!"

Dicey often forgot that other nations didn't treat politics as sport. Sometimes she wished that she could visit Ben's mythical Australia. There, too, it seemed, they knew how to take the game seriously.

"Ah, the Real World. Excellent 'chinese' food. Weird place, though. Very surreal, like some kind of quaint fantasy land.

"And, don't worry, Pendankr, if I had to kill you, it'd be quick."

Pendankr smiled in an unsual way, denoting both amusement and distaste at the same time. He liked this Wolfgang person.

"My friend, I may be an old ambassador, but do not think that I am inept or incapable of putting up a fight."

He downed his brandy.

"I must be getting back to the offices. If you still wish to visit the Empire, I'll have Mrs. Mannuschrat draw up the documents."

He turned to leave the bar.

The dragon looked at Ambassador Zero-Thirteen and Mr. Chang--was it Chang? It sounded funny when they pronounced it! He also noted that Midori-chan and that wonderful Mr. Kaigan had returned to the bar, and wished that he could greet them, and congratulate Midori on bringing two fine new infants into the world. He would have to make time later.

"It seems that you've got quite a history, Mr. Zero-Thirteen," he said. "Please tell me the whole story. Super soldiers?"

So many years ago, Wolfgang thought, being pulled back to the events that created his country. "Well, we don't really look at it that way. There's really not that much to it. Let's see... about 225 Earth years ago, a group of highly advanced and psychotic humans decided they didn't like the universe the way it was. They decided to change it by force, and played with genetics until they got... us. They screwed up, though, and our first Alpha told them to "piss off," and then, revolution. We overthrew the weaklings, and decided to live as peacefully as possible. And so, here I am. Did I miss anything?" He seemed to be asking himself more than anyone else, and seemed to be temporarily lost in his own memories.

The Wolf Guardians;11724214']So many years ago, Wolfgang thought, being pulled back to the events that created his country. "Well, we don't really look at it that way. There's really not that much to it. Let's see... about 225 Earth years ago, a group of highly advanced and psychotic humans decided they didn't like the universe the way it was. They decided to change it by force, and played with genetics until they got... us. They screwed up, though, and our first Alpha told them to "piss off," and then, revolution. We overthrew the weaklings, and decided to live as peacefully as possible. And so, here I am. Did I miss anything?" He seemed to be asking himself more than anyone else, and seemed to be temporarily lost in his own memories.

"I don't know, Mr. Zero-Thirteen," the dragon replied. "It is, after all, your history.

"But tell me, why do you refer to the circumstances that led to your current existence as 'screwing up?' It would seem to me that it was a most serendipitous happenstance. After all, for a supersoldier, you can be quite charming."

Now, the dragon could understand why this being was so touchy about sentients' rights. Ironically, one of the reasons why Gurgle had been chosen to repersent the diverse species of Dastardly Stench was that he had always abhorred what he referred to as "The Gegil Game." Some would presume that humanoids had a corner on the discrimination market. They would be wrong. There were plenty of dragons around who viewed humans as little more than flies to be swatted. This, as Gurgle had at times found himself arguing, was foolish--humans, dragons, and all the species of Dastardly Stench could accomplish far more working together than they could if they were at each other's throats. Fortunately, the path that Gurgle had chosen was the one that was winning out.

But it brought up a rather embarrasing question, and one that the dragon would have to find a delicate way to phrase.

If the supersoldiers had overthrown (as in JAILED, KILLED or DRIVEN OUT) their creators, had they put in place any legal framework to serve as a buffer against their creators' return? And, more importantly, if so, did it serve as the basis for building a form of discrimination into the law of their land?

The dragon pondered the best way to ask this question as he pulled out a new bottle, from a new lot, of Aromatic Blue, and pondered the ramifications of imbibing its contents.

"Well, ah... It wasn't us, the Guardians, that screwed up," Wolfgang returned. "I was referring to the creators screwing up their psychotic plans. Or, possibly, some of them were reasonable and sabotaged their grand scheme, I suppose. One way or another, we were not as obedient or violent as they had wanted, which threw a wrench in the works, for them. So, I suppose, I was speaking from their point of view." Turning to Pendankr, he continued, "I apologize for the... have-to-kill-you comment. It's not very becoming of the modern Commonwealth. I've just been... remembering... for the last few minutes about some of the horrible things they did to some of my comrades trying to make us... 'behave'. Of course no Guardian would arbitrarily kill anyone. Even... if they proclaimed themself to be one of our creators. That travesty is in the past, and the short-lived original creators ought to be long gone." He turned back to Gurgle. "So, tell me more about your country. Are there great Arts there?" One could hear the capitalization of the word. "How about the climate? Hmm..." He looked to his computer for other questions that the Guardian citizenry had submitted for him to ask. "Oh, that's it. Why don't you tell some of the history of your country?"

Midori, Kaigan and Yukiko relocated from the bar to a table as the little ones looked curiously around them.

they talked quietly among themselves while they drank tea, Midori also ordering a cheese and tomato sandwich from the bar.

Ambassador Pendankr, grumbling, entered the bar and sat down at the rail with a thud.

"Neville, give me your strongest. And make it a double."

The ambassador then proceeded to mumble under his breath about "copyright" and "evolution" and "fucking corpses."

"Well...the nation was established as a monarchy about 400 years ago by a group of renegade intellectuals, who bought an island in the northern pacific and started their own country. It was their intention that the nation would, in time, evolve into a parliamentary democracy. They moved to the Magical Realm about 150 years ago, and the evolution has since proceeded. Our government is a parliament with a King whose position is largely ceremonial."

Gurgle paused for a moment. He was actually part of the events that he related. It seemed so recently that the dragon's father, the late court wizard Whodiedi, had been thrown in the dungeons, victim of a power grab by the evil queen Analretentia and her two malevolent ministers, Spic and Span. It was then that the dragon, also thrown into the dungeon, had acquired his "special powers" from a genie ensconsed within the dungeon--and used them to overthrow the evil queen, paving the way for the first parliament. Yet, it was so long ago that all the participants, save himself and the genie, were no more.

"Along the way," the Dragon continued, "we began to merge peacefully with surrounding nations, giving them equal representation in our parliament as we did. We thus now sport a very diverse set of cultural, ethnic and even species groups. Somehow, we find a way to make it work.

"By the way, have you met the Neoman delegation? Impeccable character. I'm to understand that my friend and fellow diplomat, Midori-chan, has recently given birth. It is my hope to speak with her, and that wonderful Kaigan-san, and to express my congratulations. I've got the perfect gift to help them celbrate, too! A bottle of Dastardly Stench Vineyard's newest vintage--Aromatic Blue."

The dragon looked across the bar at the Neoman delegation and smiled his warmest smile.

---------

OOC: I hope I got the right name, and it's Neoma. :) :) :)

ooc: its the Kirisuban Empire but i've been called worse things before :)

ic:

Midori smiled and waved back turning the buggy so Gurgle could see her babies.

The dragon brought his head to the floor--which the Kirisoban delegation should have recognised as a respectful bow--and turned back to his diplomatic companion.

"So, tell me, Mr. Zero-Thirteen, have you met them yet? It appears that Midori-chan's new children are perfectly healthy. What do you say we pay them our respects?"

Wolfgang, seeing the children, was reminded of the aforementioned genetically preprogrammed aversion to natural birth that the first generations of his kind had, and shortly realized that his face was reflecting this, or at least it would to other Guardians. Straightening up, he replied, "Why, no, I haven't, and yes, we should." As this was the dragon's idea and he seemed to have met the delegates before, he respectfully indicated that he would follow.

"it looks like we're going to have visitors" Midori says softly to Suki and Riyku.

Kaigan got another chair from a nearby table ready for their guest.

As the dragon led the way to Kaigan-san, Midori-chan and the new children, it briefly flashed through his mind to make a joke about the "little gegils." His stomach turned at the thought, though. He did not know how he could even think of using a term--and a mode of thought--that he so detested, even in jest.

The feeling didn't last long, however; rather, when he reached the group, he had a smile and was proffering his gift to Midori-chan in his prehensile tail.

"I thought you might like this," he told them after exchanging greetings. "It is a new vintage, like the new ones that you have with you. It only seems proper that you should have some Aromatic Blue as a congratulatory gift." Childbirth was so much more painful for humans than it was for dragons. He hoped that the vine would do its new owners justice.

"And this," he finally said, indicating his fellow ambassador, "is Mr. Zero-Thirteen--a fellow ambassador. He has quite a tale to tell of his species being genetically engineered supersoldiers who turned to peace. It's actually quite compelling. He tells it so much better than I ever could, though."

Wolfgang's embarassment would've been quite visible to other Guardians. "Greetings, Midori, Kaigan, and... tiny ones. I wish you greatness in this life." He executed a full bow towards the children, once again trying not to think about their birth. Damn the Creators. "Gurgle does me too much honor. After all, the Commonwealth Encyclopedia used someone else's accounting (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/The_Wolf_Guardians) of all that. A much better storyteller, the old coot. Pity he's not still around." He momentarily became lost in his thoughts again. "Uh... How about your... 'Kirisuban Empire?' I'd like to hear all about it, if I could."

"greeetings Zero-thirteen san" Kaigan rising from his chair to return the bow before taking his seat again.

Midori also replied "thank you Gurgle" as the little ones looked round curiously at their visitors.

Kaigan then replied "The Kirisuban Empire is well over 600 years old and based on the pillars of honour, duty and compassion. We also practice the code of bushido, the way of the warrior but we have been at peace for a long time as well. We have a divine Empress who can trace her ancestory back to long before the founding of the Empire and our main religions are Shinto and Buddism.

Midori san and myself are both Samurai, members of the warrior class.

May I also introduce our acting deputy ambassador Yukiko Uehara who is covering Midori's duties while she has her maternity leave"

A pause in the bar's constant demands, an unexpected eddy in the seas of time and space: Neville leaned forward on folded arms and cast an assessing eye over the clientele.

No more than the usual background deal-mongering, back-stabbing and such; he was about to let his attention wander in greener pastures (preferably with the darling delegate from Randomea) when Dicey Reilly settled with a thankful gasp on her customary barstool.

Leaning forward confidingly -- a gesture which Neville appreciated, as he adored keyhole necklines -- she announced, "Neville, we are in Big Trouble."

"Join the club," the Barlord responded, with a worried glance at Gurgle. But his training won out and, as a good bartender should, he turned to his customer's plight.

"You don't look like someone who's in big trouble, Dicey," he said, dodging a passing frisbee -- Dicey's party seemed to have an excess of the things. "In fact, I doubt I've ever seen this many Ardchoilleans in the Bar before, and certainly not in this good a mood."

"It's a front," Dicey sighed. "We don't want the Kennyites to think there's anything wrong."

"You still haven't sorted things out? I thought, now you've got Bast back ..."

"Bast wasn't all we got back," said Dicey, tartly. She began to update Neville: the hippies whom Omigodtheykilledkenny had unleashed upon her nation, and her own instant connection with the GrandAlf, their leader; the demand by the OMGTKK government that Ardchoille deport him immediately to face tax charges; and the major magical working that had fetched Bast home, but brought the insane Kennyite ex-ambassador Jack Riley as well.

She veered a little from the narrative in places -- the Nemonicans, their frisbees and Bast's accidental disarming of the Kennyite's suitcase nuke wandered into the tale -- but Neville steered her ruthlessly back to the main events.

"So what you're mainly worried about," he deduced, "is that the Kennyites will kidnap this GrandAlf, now that you're in love with him, right? And jail him on tax charges as some sort of payback for the trouble you've caused?"

"They caused," corrected Dicey. "But, yes, that's right."

"And you can't just haul the Absolutely Indestructible,Totally Impenetrable, Godmoded Magical Shield up around Ardchoille and thumb your noses at them?"

"We could, but there are other things we'd rather do with our lives," Dicey said. "Somebody's got to be on duty to keep the Shield up, and it gets rather tiresome. Especially when it's karaoke night at Finnegan's Wake, if you don't mind my mentioning other pubs here."

Neville waved away the apology. "So you've got two problems: keeping your GrandAlf safe --"

"His name is Alfred Michael Grandison, actually, " Dicey said dreamily, "but I call him -- "

"Never mind," said Neville, inexorably. "And your other problem is what to do with Riley. You wouldn't like to just fit him out with an iron mask and keep him in a dungeon somewhere?"

"We're an Utterly Compliant nation; we don't have dungeons," Dicey told him sadly. "I could quote you the relevant UN resolutions, if you like ..."

"Don't bother. Look, Dice, I can't help you with Riley. I know what I'd do, but you won't do it. But I've got an idea about your Michael. You said you'd given all the hippies citizenship. So, is there any friendly, strong nation you can send him to as Ambassador? It's generally considered rather bad form for ambassadors to play out their national disputes on a host nation's soil. So if you could think of somewhere that might object rather forcefully if they did ... somewhere even the Kennyites might not want to offend ..."

Friendly ... strong ... Dicey mentally reviewed the General Assembly, seeking a refuge. But the strong ones weren't friendly, and the friendly ones weren't strong ... suddenly a picture formed in her mind. An entire delegation rising to their feet, applauding (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11738509&postcount=100) her ...

"Ausserland!" she said. "Neville, you're brilliant!"

Crista wandered in to the strange place. She has never seen anything like it before. "So many different people." she thought. She looked around some more and walked up to the bar. "Could I please have a glass of milk." she purred at the bartender. Receiving her milk, she headed for a table, sat down. She was feeling a little uncomfortable. She didn't care much for the human clothes that her mother made her put on before leaving the den. But, if Crista insisted on being out and about among the humans, she had to wear them. She thought that maybe she should introduce herself to some of the people gathered here. She scanned the room. There were a lot of people deeply engaged in conversation. Looking around a bit more, she noticed the wolf. She suddenly became frightened. "A wolf. Mother always told me that they didn't like our kind. I just won't look at him." She licked her paw and looked away.

Pendankr looked up from his glass of samogan ((I don't know if it's the strongest Neville actually has, but it's the strongest liquor I know of. Yay for illegal russian moonshine!)), and glanced at the unusual cat creature that had just entered the bar. Then he glanced at Wolfgang. And then Gurgle.

Since the start of his ambassdorship, he had learned more about the universe than he had thought possible. Now,when a colleague would tell a "so a talking, sentient cat walks into a bar..." joke, he wouldn't laugh. Hell, most of the time he spends in the Stranger's Bar is just the setup for one of those jokes.

Pendankr lifted himself from his stool and walked over to the cat-creature... thing... person... woman... whatever.

"Hello there. I'm Landaman Pendankr, the Ambassador from Allech-Atreus. I noticed you eyeing that wolfman/manwolf over there, no need to worry, he's harmless. Well, in a manner of speaking. He'd probably scare you more with his questions than with his teeth."

"I guess that means he's okay with cats then? I am a cat, of sorts. My name is Crista. I have no surname. It is nice to meet you." She stood to show her full height(6 and a half feet) and extended a paw. "Do you think you could be kind enough to tell me more about this place?" She sat again and waited with a smile.

Pendankr chuckled, and extended his hand. He was a healthy 5'9", like most of his comrades, but he was used to the abnormally tall Gindani folks that would come over to Khaylamnis for trade talks.

"Well, this here's the Stranger's Bar. And since you're a stranger, you'll fit right in." He chuckled at his own joke. Probably the alcohol... he had been here for several hours, drinking. "Order anything you like, Neville's usually happy to oblige. You can bump arms with just about every rep from every UN nation, when they're not catatonic, on the debate floor, or passed out silly. You've already seen Wolfgang and Gurgle.." There was a talking dolphin in here a while back, but Neville put him in the closet when his suit started leaking."

"Watch out for the Kennyite delegation. They have a tendency to be completely insane and violent, which is why everyone loves them. The wicker-wearing rep from Community Property comes around every now and again. Most people mind their own business, but you'll probably see stuff you don't normally see in a bar. Hell, that Kirisuban woman gave birth in here a while ago- in fact, they're over there right now."

Pendankr smiled and took a drink. A beeper on his belt started pulsating, and he jumped with surprise.

"Well, that's about it. I've got to get back to the office- the wormhole's opening up, and the delegation is returning to the Great Star Empire. See you on the floor!"

Amiably imbibing Bailey's Irish Cream and milk -- and raising a glass to the happy memories of Byron, the Royal Hibernian who'd given him a taste for the stuff -- Bast felt his eyes magnetically drawn to a certain quarter of the Bar.

Goddess! Herself, come to walk among mortals! He eyed the pantherine grace of the rep from The Bagheera ... it was definitely time to extend Ardchoille's diplomatic contacts with some of the newer nations.

Damn, that human from SmartAllechia was already making the moves. Humans were just shameless! But, good, she was standing up, she was going to rake him head to foot with her claws ...

Uh, no, of course not. No civilised feline would do such a thing. Look at her, so tall, so sleek, so ... Catlike ... why would anyone cover fur like that with clothes? No matter, it was probably some sort of native custom. He walked over, surprised to find himself still looking up when he reached her; at 6'4", he looked down on most of his fellow Cats.

"Uh, I couldn't help but notice your, uh, ancestry," he began, suddenly awkward (Bast, King of the Alleys, awkward?). "I thought you might like to know of some of the accommodations they make for us here -- scratching-posts and such. And the features we're not supposed to know about, too, like which office has the best cushions, and who's allergic to cat-hair, and how to open the different fridges. Oh, I'm Bast, by the way. Feline Adviser to the Presidency of Ardchoille. We generally leave politics to the humans, but, seeing we're 50% of the population, we like to keep an eye on what they get up to."

In the manner of formal Cat friendliness, he brought his face close to hers and sniffed discreetly, their whiskers almost intermingling. Politely, he closed his eyes in expectation of the traditional hiss and (hopefully gentle) paw-slap.

A

Damn, that human from SmartAllechia was already making the moves. ..


OOC: :p

*snip*Sammy sighed as he tried in vain to understand the textbook for his university course in Escalating Tensions with Friendly Nations for no Good Reason. The grad student in Kennyite Diplomacy was struggling to comprehend the usefulness of this brand of consular imperiousness -- half the material seemed to have been lifted directly from Jack Riley's playbook -- the concepts were clear as crystal, sure, but their purpose?

Riley's successor was currently enjoying a rare respite from the daily insanity of working at UNHQ (talking flatulent dragons, wolfmen with computer-assistants and holographic guns, CPESL pimps holding the controls to a Death Star, and the Kennyites were the insane ones?). Luckily Ace and Rico were off doing ... God knew what ... permitting him some alone time to immerse himself in his studies, and unfortunately none of it seemed to be doing him any good. He was slowly coming to the realization that his nation's prized brand of international relations was all a load of ...

"Bah!" he exclaimed frustratedly as he hurled his diplomacy textbook across the floor.

Just then Cmdr. Chiang burst through the door to his office, brandishing a miniature tape-recorder. "Ambassador, there's something you need to listen to," she informed him.

Sammy jumped to his feet at the sight of his security director. "Y'ever hear of knocking, Commander?" he demanded as he disappeared into his closet to find something to put over his wifebeater.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this really can't wait," she answered urgently.

"What is it?" he asked, reappearing in the hallway in a polo shirt.

"Something I happened to 'overhear' at the Strangers' Bar."

"I already told you, Commander, I don't like you bugging everyone at UN Headquarters. It's an invasion of privacy."

"All prudent measures in the interest of your security, Ambassador, I assure you," she insisted. "I wouldn't have had the Strangers' Bar equipped with monitoring devices (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=121&view=findpost&p=4263600) when this Bast business started had I not felt that the very safety of this mission was in danger. Your predecessor left here having made a lot of enemies for this delegation, and you never know what they could be plotting. Ambassador Pendankr can delude himself all he likes about us being 'loved' when we know the truth. Those who wish us ill are lurking all over this complex, and I don't need to tell you, some the worst ones are situated just across the hall!" she noted with urgency, pointing to the Kawaiian hentai manga poster on Sammy's wall.

"Such eloquence," the ambassador commended Chiang. "This better be good."

"Oh, it's very good; I assure you," she said as she hit the play button. Amidst the intermittent noise of static and bustling bar patrons were the unmistakable voices of Dicey Reilly and Neville Chamberlain. What little of the conversation the microphone had picked up were seemingly unrelated snippets: "Kennyites ... suitcase nuke ... wasn't all we got back ... GrandAlf ... Godmoded Magical Shield ... karaoke night at Finnegan's Wake ... Alfred Michael Grandison ... Riley ... keep him in a dungeon ... Utterly Compliant nation ..." All put together, however, these phrases took on an air of alarming significance.

"Gibberish," sneered Sammy, waving off the recorder with his hand. "You've been wasting your time, Commander."

"I can tell you, sir, I have not," Chiang protested. "To the layman this may not sound like much, but to these trained ears, only one terrifying conclusion can be drawn."

"And that is?"

"That the Ardchoilleans have kidnapped Riley in some ham-handed plot for revenge, and plan on using this suitcase nuke of ours they've acquired to hold this embassy hostage!"

Sammy groaned. "Man, I am sick and tired of all these crackpot conspiracy theories," he spat. "Even you are starting to sound like Riley with all these paranoid fantasies!"

"You take that back!" Chiang intoned dangerously. "These are not 'crackpot conspiracy theories'; they derive from solid intelligence! And if we don't act on them now, the witches will!"

"Aw, fuck me!" Sammy interjected, befuddled, enraged and just a little confused. He still couldn't figure out how Chiang had managed to appear in two places at once (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=135&view=findpost&p=5086794). Perhaps she'd located Karmicaria's UN portal?

"Sir, if I may," the commander offered: "The National Security Council has authorized this mission to negotiate Riley's release. We can't offer them much, but in their current economic state (http://nstracker.retrogade.com/index.php?nation=ardchoille), the Ardchoilleans are inclined to deem it a most generous proposal."

"Aw, shit," the ambassador groused as he allowed Chiang to fit him for a concealed microphone. Who needed a master's degree in Kennyite Diplomacy when his job was already supplying him with the necessary know-how on being a world-class jerk?

Crista hissed and playfully pawed at Bast. She made sure that her claws were retracted. After all, she didn't want to hurt him. She then stepped back. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Bast. I am Crista. I am happy to see that I'm not the only cat around here." He was quite an impressive animal, though not as tall as she was. He seemed nice. "Maybe you could show me around and give me a rundown of what's been happening. I don't really know what humans are like. I've rarely come in contact with them. Would you care to join me at my table?" She started to purr.

"greeetings Zero-thirteen san" Kaigan rising from his chair to return the bow before taking his seat again.

Midori also replied "thank you Gurgle" as the little ones looked round curiously at their visitors.

Kaigan then replied "The Kirisuban Empire is well over 600 years old and based on the pillars of honour, duty and compassion. We also practice the code of bushido, the way of the warrior but we have been at peace for a long time as well. We have a divine Empress who can trace her ancestory back to long before the founding of the Empire and our main religions are Shinto and Buddism.

Midori san and myself are both Samurai, members of the warrior class.

May I also introduce our acting deputy ambassador Yukiko Uehara who is covering Midori's duties while she has her maternity leave"

"Salutations, Yukiko Uehara. The Commonwealth has a..." Wolfgang was momentarily distracted, staring past the Kirisuban party at the newcomer. Hello, kitty kitty, he thought. She seemed frightened when she first saw him, but thankfully Pendankr said something to her that seemed to calm that. I shall have to meet her later. His hearing, one of his own genetically-enhanced feline traits told him her name was Crista. He filed that towards the back of his mind for later. "...a similar pattern, in that we practice the arts of war in the interests of peace. We Guardians have... difficulty understanding belief systems. Could you, perhaps, explain this... 'Shinto' and 'Buddism'?" He continued to look past them to the cat, every so often. I never expected to see so many wonders outside the Commonwealth.

Midori smiled and fielded the question.

"Shinto translates as 'the way of the gods' and is a loose religion based round nature spirits we call Kami. theres no scriptures and a very loosly organised priesthood.

Buddism is similar and its chief belief is that we are reincarnated after death. The form we come back in depends on our deeds in our previous life.

Its a non-violent faith were you aim to improve yourself and live peacefully with others.

Most samurai follow Shinto although"

Uneasily Sammy trudged into the bar, chafing in his Sabbath clothes. He hated wearing them, but the confining suit was the only thing in his closet that could hide the fact that he was wearing a wire. Nervously he scanned the establishment, and found two oversized kitties flirting with each other at a nearby table. He did not recognize Bast, as the poor feline had been missing from the time he, Sammy, had arrived at UN Headquarters. The only pics he'd seen of the cat were a few fuzzy camera-phone images his sister had posted on her MySpace of her "sweetiepie" "Betsy," adorned in pink ribbons, trying in vain to clean the Kennyite corrosions off "her" furry body, and looking completely miserable. Crystal had been so devastated when "she" ran away.

One person Sammy did recognize was Dicey Reilly, the notorious witchy woman, presently fussing over "diplomatic papers" as she sat at her "desk," all the while paining to reassure her newly acquired tax-cheat beau (http://z6.invisionfree.com/UN_Old_Guard/index.php?showtopic=1254&view=findpost&p=9413060) in conspicuous hippy garb. Luckily for Dicey, however, Sammy didn't recognize the gentleman, either. He'd only heard tell of him during cabinet meetings, where the most recent police photos of him the Justice Department could furnish dated back to 1975.

Quietly the Kennyite seized the barstool next to Dicey's, keeping his face turned in the opposite direction to avoid her recognizing him. He loitered there a few minutes, in the interim informing to Neville that he really needed a beer. He waited till the barlord slid the 22-oz. Arrogant Bastard Ale down the counter to him, and he'd downed about half of it, before proceeding. Sobriety certainly wasn't going to make this chore any easier.

He cleared his throat obviously, eliciting a quick glance from the Ardchoillean.

"Oh, sorry, ma'am; I didn't realize you worked here!" he lied, offering his hand. "I'm Sammy Faisano, the ambassador from the Federal Republic. You must be Dicey Reilly! I've heard so much about you." (Now that was most definitely not a lie.)

Fortunately for our young protagonist, the co-president seemed very interested in talking to a Kennyite (even if she did look ached to cast an invisibility spell upon her granola-breathed companion), and the two managed to strike up a cordial, if somewhat awkward, exchange. Sammy, at this point a little buzzed and unguarded, found himself wanting to impress her with Army stories. "... You know what are really fun, though?" came the eventual rhetorical inquiry. "Suitcase nukes! What does your country know about them?" he asked, before stealthily whispering into his necktie: "Testing! 1, 2, 3!"

Cmdr. Chiang, listening on the other end, lost control. "She's on to us!" she screamed into his earpiece. "She's going to turn you into a horny toad!! Abort!! ABORT!!!" Of course, Chiang had whispering that since he left the office, so he was able to tune her out by now. He hadn't even gotten to the part about freeing Riley, and he sure as hell wasn't making two trips just to make that happen.

"Suitcase nu ... ? -- oh, of course, thanks for reminding me. That glowing-numbers thing we put on your President; I'd forgotten all about that. Here, it won't take more than a few seconds to get rid of ..." her fingers began to weave intricate patterns below the rim of the bar counter.

"Cover for me, will you?" she hissed at Sammy, with a conspiratorial wink. "I'm not supposed to do this sort of thing in public."

Gurgle had wanted to introduce himself to the new feline member of the group, but hadn't gotten the chance. It would probably be refreshing to speak with someone else who wasn't even partly human, but, with Bast, whom Gurgle respected and owed a favor, speaking with her in most confidential terms, the dragon decided that a non-entrance would be a the most graceful thing that he could do at the time.

This was not the case regarding the new Kennyite in the bar. He was behaving most erratically--not that this was anything unusual for a Kennyite. Still, Dastardly Stench had yet to have any meaningful diplomatic contact with that rather neatherly nation, and this was not necessarily a good thing.

The dragon excused himself from his conversation between His Excellency,* Mr. Zero-Thriteen and the upper eschelon of the Kirisoban delegation and sauntered--carefully avoiding causing any harm with his bulk--over to the Kennyite.

Now, he thought, preparing his "magic portal" for another use, what aroma would be appropriate for this encounter?

In a moment, the air around the bar was filled with the scent of...

Hi Karate after shave and cologne.


*OOC: honorary title used for an ambassador.

Dicey welcomed the dragon with mischievous joy. If her fellow-citizens picked up any magical emanations, she'd just insist it must have been Gurgle, not her. This ban on doing magic in public was stupid, anyway; even this nice young Kennyite plainly knew she was a witch, so what was the OMG BIG SEKRIT, eh?

She measured Sammy up as her fingertips began to glow. He really was very young, wasn't he? Almost as young as the aide (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11792341&postcount=35) who'd asked her that silly question about him the other day ... what was it, now? Something odd ... Oh, yes! Well, she might as well find out, she could pass the information back to the lass:

"Tell me, Mr Faisano, do you ever go bowling?"

"...Would you care to join me at my table?"

Would he? Try to stop him! Bast couldn't remember a time when he'd ever been this impressed. He began applying the arts he'd learnt from watching humans courting; the process was generally deemed unnecessary by his fellow Cats, but he'd found it quite enjoyable.

He'd never before met someone who knew even less about the UN than he did. It was fun, and did wonders for his ego, to recount all the little conventions the place ran on: the ... infestation on the fortieth floor of the UN building, the dangerous inhabitants of the basements, the finicky demands of the Building Management, the rumoured portals.

Signalling for refills, he moved smoothly into gossip, somehow managing (quite accidentally, of course) to give the impression that Ardchoille played a far greater part in world affairs than it really did. He ventured on a wry recounting of the latest insiders' joke, the one about the General Secretary, the dolphins and the hippos.

" ... and then he said, 'Hippos really are quite large!'," Bast was concluding, when Violet arrived with the drinks. He went to sign the account, but she waved him away.

"Neville said it was free, because you're taking such good care of a new delegate," she explained. "Bast's being quite fatherly, isn't he?" she asked the Bagheeran, scratching the Cat approvingly on the head. "I suppose it's because you remind him of his eldest daughter; you must be about the same age."

Violet made her exit and Bast silently and very carefully groomed his left paw. The activity apparently needed his uttermost attention.

She measured Sammy up as her fingertips began to glow. He really was very young, wasn't he? Almost as young as the aide (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11792341&postcount=35) who'd asked her that silly question about him the other day ... what was it, now? Something odd ... Oh, yes! Well, she might as well find out, she could pass the information back to the lass:

"Tell me, Mr Faisano, do you ever go bowling?""Um, bowling?" stammered the envoy, surprised at the witch's question. "Er, ah, yes. I like bowling."

He glared strangely at her. Was the old lady trying to hit on him? he wondered. Or was she trying to fix him up? Dreadfully he had to accept the latter, as well-meaning State Department staffers had deemed him the victim of some the worst matchmaking ever in recent months. Here a meddling secretary who thought he'd be perfect for her daughter; there a body-pierced, tattooed, thirtysomething biker-chick protocol officer who needed a date to an official state function (and who apparently had an unfortunate habit of pinching his butt at every available opportunity). He didn't think he'd forget Alex Tehrani's cousin, who helped her family manage the flea circus -- how was he supposed to know the scent of his Axe Body Spray would murder all of her acrobats? -- or Antigone Morgan's niece, who turned out to be a faux vampire. He was fine with dressing Goth for one evening, and even with allowing her to get him fitted for false fangs; but he drew the line at visiting underground bars to drink goat's blood.

Before the co-president could offer another prize escort for him, Sammy launched right into business. "Uh, thank you for taking care of ... whatever it is you're taking care of," he told her sincerely, momentarily mesmerized by her incandescent digits. "But really that's not why I'm here. We have information that would suggest that your nation recently acquired Jack Riley from his post in the Eternal Kawaii. The Federal Republic wants him back, and is willing to pay most generously for an agreeable outcome."

He reached into his coat pocket and produced a (slightly gay-looking) lavender monetary note adorned with the Loch Ness Monster. "My initial offer is three tree-fiddys ... but I'm authorized to go as high as $6.50!"

"Oh, so you know about that?" said Dicey hollowly. Well, of course they did. Hadn't his arrival been witnessed by hordes of ex-Kennyite hippies, some of whom, no doubt, were under unbearable pressure from Kennyite security, given that they still had family back there? Perhaps something could be done later. Still, since the Kennyites already knew about Riley, and hadn't done anything untoward, it might be wiser to let sleeping loonies lie for the time being ... "It was an unfortunate miscalculation; we certainly didn't want him."

She held the tree-fiddy note up so she could see it more clearly, "Well, isn't this just so, ah, pretty," she said, privately thankful that Ardchoille had long since abandoned visible currency, and handed it back politely. "Thank you for showing me your national, uh, artistic talents. You must be very ... proud."

A desperate glance over at Bast -- Waltz off and leave me with this, Mr Intelligence Supremo, would you? You'll get yours! -- "Er, about Mr Riley, now; we'd be happy to return him, and, naturally, since it was our fault his embassy was interrupted, we'll handle the travelling expenses, but I'm afraid he's not a well man, Mr Faisano. Our healers say he's not really up to the stresses and strains of, um, active ambassadorship. Now, of course that's up to your government, but do you think you could put in a good word for him, poor man? They obviously have a great deal of confidence in you, appointing you to your position so early in your career. (Smarm, smarm!) And I'm sure my government would back any appeal you wished to make to the Distressed UN Delegates Fund. He could retire comfortably somewhere."

Somewhere far away from human contact, preferably. And it might be a good idea to avoid the more intelligent animals, too. Nonetheless, this was turning out easier than she'd expected ... wonder if Gurgle has released some calming agent ... ah, there! Her fingers lost their eerie illumination and she was able to give her full attention to the conversation.

"Your president just lost his Christmas decoration -- the glowing numbers," she added, carefully, though this young man did seem unnaturally intelligent for his nation. "They won't come back, either, I've tailored the spell very carefully. So, where do you want us to drop Riley off? Kawaii, or back home?"

Accelerus Dioce staggered heavily into the bar, and winced. He backpedaled in a somewhat wobbly fashion, having already started celebrating with very strong drink back in his office. "Drinks all around," he shouted. "Let's have a toast to the delegation from Gruenberg."

Wolfgang's computer had informed him of the passing of the Fair Sentencing Act, and he raised his nonalcoholic glass. "Agreed! To the Gruenbergers!"

The Meddling Monk entered the bar, "did I hear 'drinks all around?' I'll have a Wild Turkey Rare Breed then!" Taking his glass he gave a toast, "To the Gruenbergers! Hopefully this is a day we will not live to regret." He quickly looked around the bar to make sure the new representative from Cluichstan is not present in the room.

"Your president just lost his Christmas decoration -- the glowing numbers," she added, carefully, though this young man did seem unnaturally intelligent for his nation. "They won't come back, either, I've tailored the spell very carefully. So, where do you want us to drop Riley off? Kawaii, or back home?""No!" Sammy shouted suddenly. "The Eternal Kawaii is fine! Tehrani will have my head if Riley's ever seen in--! ... Er, I mean, the cute and happy paradise would be better for his, uh, health, wouldn't it? Besides, his doctors are in Sanrio City."

He was willing to ignore Dicey's gibberish about "Christmas decorations" and "glowing numbers." Crazy old bat. "Thank you, all the same, for agreeing to return him home. You can keep the note, by the way. Souvenier."

His task completed, he once again was able to tune in Cmdr. Chiang, still shrieking "Abort! Abort!" into his earpiece. Her warnings were no longer necessary now, but he certainly wasn't going to start talking to his necktie just to inform her of his success. Public displays of such odd behavior served only to confirm other delegations' perceptions of his home country's "insanity." The commander could keep screaming.

With a sigh of relief, Sammy removed the squawking earpiece and stuck it in his pocket, and raised his Arrogant Bastard Ale to the Gruenberger delegation.

As Dahlia entered the bar, she heard quite the commotion. "It seems that people have started celebrating. Most likely for the Gruenberg delegation." she shrugged and ordered her drink. "I'd like an Arrogant Bastard Ale, please." getting her drink she turned on her stool and eyed the place.

The usual suspects were here. Nothing that interesting happening. At least not in her opinion. She was really hoping that at least one of the ambassadors would take her up on her offer for a drink or three. She was feeling lonely and needed a release. She missed home and wondered when the queen would allow her back.

She then noticed that Accelerus Dioce was already in the bar. "Maybe I should go talk to him. He did want me to show him what sexual freedom meant." she snickered to herself, stood and headed in Accelerus Dioce's direction.

As Dahlia entered the bar, she heard quite the commotion. "It seems that people have started celebrating. Most likely for the Gruenberg delegation." she shrugged and ordered her drink. "I'd like an Arrogant Bastard Ale, please." getting her drink she turned on her stool and eyed the place.

The usual suspects were here. Nothing that interesting happening. At least not in her opinion. She was really hoping that at least one of the ambassadors would take her up on her offer for a drink or three. She was feeling lonely and needed a release. She missed home and wondered when the queen would allow her back.

She then noticed that Accelerus Dioce was already in the bar. "Maybe I should go talk to him. He did want me to show him what sexual freedom meant." she snickered to herself, stood and headed in Accelerus Dioce's direction.

Accelerus almost fell as he turned and saw Dahlia, but quickly caught himself, using the bar to support his tequila-laden weight and his old, cyberchemically-enhanced body. The toxin filtration agents were being overpowered by the sheer amount of alcohol in his system, and he knew that. It wasn't like it took a lot of self-awareness to guess, given the haze that was impairing his vision. He stood stiffly and tried to pretend he was better off than he actually was, and spoke in Dahlia's direction. "Hey there, pretty lady."

Accelerus almost fell as he turned and saw Dahlia, but quickly caught himself, using the bar to support his tequila-laden weight and his old, cyberchemically-enhanced body. The toxin filtration agents were being overpowered by the sheer amount of alcohol in his system, and he knew that. It wasn't like it took a lot of self-awareness to guess, given the haze that was impairing his vision. He stood stiffly and tried to pretend he was better off than he actually was, and spoke in Dahlia's direction. "Hey there, pretty lady."

Dahlia giggled when as she watched Accelerus trying to act sober. It was rather cute. "Hey there yourself, handsome. Would you care to join me for a drink, or would you rather get out of this place so we could be alone?" She was hoping that he would choose to be alone with her.

Dahlia giggled when as she watched Accelerus trying to act sober. It was rather cute. "Hey there yourself, handsome. Would you care to join me for a drink, or would you rather get out of this place so we could be alone?" She was hoping that he would choose to be alone with her.

Accelerus awarded Dahlia a drunken grin for the compliment. He wasn't called handsome much anymore, not at his age. He could perform as well as most men 100 years younger, but the wrinkles seemed to turn some women away. "Hell, I have some good drinks back in my office. Let's go get you some of those. The best HotRodian tequila a hell of a lot of money can buy. I can take both options that way."

He winked, and started walking slowly and carefully towards the bar exit, waving his hand to indicate that she should join him.

Ambassador Christelle Zyryanov (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Christelle_Zyryanov) walked in and up to the bar. Rubbing the back of her neck, she smiled pleasantly.

"Grapefruit tea, hot. Please."

She looked around. The Strangers' Bar was quite busy. She had been able to nip out from the GA after Prime Secretary Khadhim, her country's new leader, had made her first ever speech to the General Assembly (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11798570&postcount=79). Obviously many delegates preferred to be in here drinking rather than attending the debate. Not that she could blame them, with the Octovanyoan delegate now having the floor (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11798668&postcount=80).

She sipped at her tea when it arrived, watching the somewhat tipsy HotRodian, the drinking Monk, the Karmicarian ambassador - now, it's fairly clear what she's looking for - and of course Ambassador Faisano.

I'll have to keep an eye on him. Purely as a matter of principle, of course. One always had to keep an eye on Kennyites.

"Shay...Er, Barkeep...Whas somting sweet but has a kick to drink aroun here anyways?"

"I'll have a double and my godd ol' frien here ll' have tha same...Hmmmm... now where at did he get off to?"

"Hey!...Anyone in here seen my huge 6 foot tall white rabbit friend?...Hish name's Harry and I'm buyin him a little drinky poo (Hic)". :D

Accelerus awarded Dahlia a drunken grin for the compliment. He wasn't called handsome much anymore, not at his age. He could perform as well as most men 100 years younger, but the wrinkles seemed to turn some women away. "Hell, I have some good drinks back in my office. Let's go get you some of those. The best HotRodian tequila a hell of a lot of money can buy. I can take both options that way."

He winked, and started walking slowly and carefully towards the bar exit, waving his hand to indicate that she should join him.

Dahlia smiled "Sounds like a plan to me." She watched for a moment as he walked away and when he gestured for her to join him, she stood and made her way to the door.

"Shay...Er, Barkeep...Whas somting sweet but has a kick to drink aroun here anyways?"

"I'll have a double and my godd ol' frien here ll' have tha same...Hmmmm... now where at did he get off to?"

"Hey!...Anyone in here seen my huge 6 foot tall white rabbit friend?...Hish name's Harry and I'm buyin him a little drinky poo (Hic)". :D

The bar-stool to the right of the one occupied by the Southern Gentelmen's representative moves slightly, and a voice from that direction says:

"I'm over here. A Southern Comfort and carrot-juice, on the rocks, please."

mutter, mutter ... goddamn invisible rabbits ... overpaid, oversexed and over here ... I tole them, millenium shrimp buggrit rabbits ...

Though stressed, Neville hung on to sanity long enough to make a note on his to-do list:

Check Acme Pty Ltd makes anti-invisibility spray?

A tall, slim man with long black hair in a topknot, wearing an elegant suit with a golden sun emblem pinned to the tie, enters the bar. He looks around a bit, seemingly daunted by the furious activity.

There aren't any places quite like this back home, Jaris Krytellin, the ambassador from Altanar, thinks wryly. Well, my king sent me here for a reason. No point in acting like a wallflower.

After the initial pause, Krytellin crosses smartly over to the bar, where he seats himself. "Would it be possible to get a glass of wine?" he asks the bartender.

Ambassador Zyryanov (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Christelle_Zyryanov) looked over at the newcomer now seated at the bar. Few people bothered to dress as neatly as he did. Especially in the Strangers' Bar, where a flying bottle was likely enough to ruin your clothes.

"Good morning," she said with a polite smile. "I don't think we've seen you around before. Trying to escape the madness of the GA?" She took another sip of her grapefruit tea. "They have a lot more exotic drinks here than wine, you know."

Ambassador Zyryanov (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Christelle_Zyryanov) looked over at the newcomer now seated at the bar. Few people bothered to dress as neatly as he did. Especially in the Strangers' Bar, where a flying bottle was likely enough to ruin your clothes.

"Good morning," she said with a polite smile. "I don't think we've seen you around before. Trying to escape the madness of the GA?" She took another sip of her grapefruit tea. "They have a lot more exotic drinks here than wine, you know."

Jaris smiled politely in return. "Yes, I just had the opportunity to witness some of that madness. It was entertaining, but I hope the refreshments here are better. Perhaps you can tell me what "exotic drinks" might be a good choice." He extends his hand. "And you're right, I am new here. Jaris Krytellin of Altanar, a pleasure to meet you."

Selvia Mannuschrat, the secretary for the Allech-Atreus UN office, poked her head in the bar and looked about before entering. She hadn't had a chance to come to the Stranger's Bar yet; she'd been busy with paperwork and trying to keep Pazirbashan Umdiroplach from killing himself after he had to debate in the General Assembly.

She quickly walked to the bar and sat down, smoothing her vest and straightening her tie. Some people called her a tomboy, but she didn't give a damn what they thought. And if anyone really insulted her, she had their assets seized. It was a handy little law no one really knew about, allowing secretaries to claim monetary damages from insulting patrons.

She stuck her hand out and waved at Neville.

"Gin and tonic."

Christelle shook the man's hand.

"Christelle Zyryanov, of Ariddia. I do believe they have a bottle or two of Ariddian grapefruit vodka around here, but it's an acquired taste." She looked at him curiously. "Altanar... You have a king, haven't you?"

"Have you ever had a Pressure Suit? ... Some brandy, some whisky, some scotch, three anchovies, a filet of perch and some herring oil. It's popular with the local fishermen, though I can't imagine why..."

"I've only ever had a Pressure Suit once, back in my college days. Took a weeklong break with some buddies from Imperial U and went down to some fishing towns. Hoo boy- picked up some strange drinks and customs along the way. Tried that drink, woke up three days later in a canoe covered with fish."

[Pendankr] paused again, and a devilish smile crept across his face.

"Barkeep, bring me a Pressure Suit. And one for the ambassador here, if he wants it."“Sushi?” squeaked the dolphin. “Did you say 'sushi'? Is that on the menu here?”

“Of course,” said the barman.

“A bowl – no make that two. And another Pressure Suit,” clicked the Special Envoy.

And with that, the dolphin rocked back in his pressure suit and dreamed of being smothered in fish.The Wolf Guardians']Having given up on the Bloodthirsty Dolphin's response, as that delegate seemed to have fallen asleep inside his still-standing pressure suit, Wolfgang returned to his nonalcoholic drinking. What's he dreaming about in there?...Pendankr ... went to take a drink, but noticed his glass was empty. Taking a step over to the bar, he stepped in some of the leaking water from the inert Bloodthirsty Dolphin. Nearly losing his footing, he caught himself on the bar, and swore loudly at the large creature. He turned to Neville.

"Can't you get a mop out here and clean this up? Damn thing's leaking all over the place... maybe you should put him in the closet until he wakes up, or something. Oh, and get me some more of that brandy."Neville was entering that familiar "I-wish-there-were-six-of-me" state. Take it easy, he adjured himself. One step at a time...

He didn't wait to see the Ambassador's reaction; he was too busy making a circle round the Bloodthirsty Dolphins delegate with some patented Acme Kwikset Gapfill. It made a little rim, like a lunar crater, that would contain the water for a short time. That should keep it from spreading out onto the bar floor and disturbing the customers. Deftly, Neville drilled several small drainage holes within the circle. True, it would drip on anyone below, but Neville was never really sure what was below the Bar, anyway...[Bast] ventured on a wry recounting of the latest insiders' joke, the one about the General Secretary, the dolphins and the hippos.

" ... and then he said, 'Hippos really are quite large!'," Bast was concluding, when Violet arrived with the drinks...Pendankr chuckled, and extended his hand...

"Well, this here's the Stranger's Bar. And since you're a stranger, you'll fit right in." He chuckled at his own joke... "Order anything you like, Neville's usually happy to oblige. You can bump arms with just about every rep from every UN nation, when they're not catatonic, on the debate floor, or passed out silly. You've already seen Wolfgang and Gurgle.." There was a talking dolphin in here a while back, but Neville put him in the closet when his suit started leaking."In the closet, Special Envoy Kk!**!ch!eee snored softly, water gently gurgling within his mechanical suit. He was dreaming, a beautiful dream of floating belly up in a warm lagoon, covered in fish.

Yet, even as he enjoyed such pleasant thoughts, he kept hearing humans sniggering in the background. Something about him being compared in some way to a hippo.

But that was absurd. After all - as everybody knows - hippos really are quite small...