NationStates Jolt Archive

The old nekomusume took a break from herding pilgrims at the Shrine of the Manifestation. She had heard two words: "tea" and "Twister". Clearly this was a break from the usual heathen decadance taking place at the Bar, and as such, the cat-eared Kawaiian nun felt obligated to represent the Cute One in promoting such healthy behaviors.

She marched over to Dicey, Violet, and the Mother Superior Cargaminh and bowed politely, and said to Violet, "I happen to adore Lapsang Souchong." Turning to Dicey and the Mother Superior, she added, "Are we drawing up teams?"

Accelerus strode confidently into the bar, cursed loudly as a result, and ordered a drink. He turned around, spotting a good Twister game in progress, and toasted the entire nation of The Sacred Orb.

Anya was quite thrilled at the prospect of getting another drink. After all, her second Hurricane was very nearly gone. She clapped her hands together in glee much like a little child expecting a sweet.
She said to the snowy haired gentleman "Thank you shirr, You are mosht generoussh, I do sho luurve thessse drinkie-poos*giggle*. Oh..dear me I sheem to have forgotten my mannersh...My name ish Anya...Anya Semanova and yoursh would be???"*bats eyelashes**wavers unsteadily*
"Goodness me I have no idea whass wrong. I'm soooo dizzy."

Jandek quickly orders everyone's drinks and truns to Anya

I am Jandek Sladgrov... Um.. Miss Semanova you do not look well...

Jandek vacates his bar stool, it seems the only polite thing to do (and he was quite uncomfortable anyway)

Please... sit...

Jandek picks up his hurricane and downs it in one steady gulp. Hey blinks slowly, shakes his head and regards the glass with a certain sort of drunken awe.

By Stalin's Mustache... this is a wonderful thing...

He stumbles a little and orders another

Accelerus strode confidently into the bar, cursed loudly as a result, and ordered a drink. He turned around, spotting a good Twister game in progress, and toasted the entire nation of The Sacred Orb.

"Wouldn't it take a rather large toaster to grill the entire nation?" Prince Rhodri asked wryly

Having got halfway into his second bottle of wine Jawey peered at what appeared to be a walking cat by a wooden thing near the bar that he had not noticed before. If he had realised it was actually just a costume he would not have been as disgusted yet curious, despite the crowd of berobed figures huddling around it. Perhaps it was a good thing he had not come across Bast yet.
Not having ever ventured into Ravey Territory, Jawey had only ever met one Sentient Creature, their representative on the Council. Who of course was Feltham in everything except nationality. So was this what the furries called a religion?
Pushing his way past the Kwaiian tourists he strode up to the shrine til his nose was almost touching it. Then motioned towards it extravagently with the wine bottle, sloshing its contents around "so what's it do then?"

Donning his best Sabbath suit, Sammy took a moment to scan the bar. Finding a group of modestly dressed religious-types like the Snefaldians shouldn't have been too difficult; they likely would have appeared oddly out of place amongst the "bunch of drunks, stoners, weirdos, military fruitcakes, sex addicts, rejects, dear little kiddies and Senator Sulla (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13000221&postcount=4)" who always occupied the United Nations' famed drinking establishment, but he had never met the Snefaldians before, and he didn't want to embarrass himself. Sure enough, there was Ambassador Shandreth, recognizable in his distinctively old-fashioned cassock, idly enjoying himself and in close proximity to Dicey Reilly. Killing two birds with one stone shouldn't be too difficult, he thought.

He weaved through the tables and chairs as he approached the ambassador, quickly averting his eyes as he passed the Mother Superior, although she seemed a bit distracted by the prospects of Twister. He didn't want to betray himself to a nun, especially considering the stuff he'd just been doing with his companion in a side room.

For her part, Avaya walked briskly past him to stand beside her superior and mentor Reilly, not necessarily because the former too felt guilty, but because she was eager for the ceremony to begin. It wasn't every day a girl got to witness her beloved presenting his Letters of Credence to a head of state.

The proceedings would be slightly delayed, however, as Sammy reached the Snefaldians' table. "Your Holiness," he addressed Shandreth, offering his hand. "I'm Sammy Faisano, the former Kennyite ambassador. I've been obliged to pass this along to you, for your superior in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs." He handed the gentleman a business-sized envelope. Were Amb. Shandreth to open it, he'd see a single-page notice, from the Department of State:Attn: His Excellency Parepauresanna-vohu-manar, Snefaldian Holy Minister of Foreign Affairs

We are pleased to announce that the Federal Congress has voted to authorize opening official diplomatic relations with the Centralized Mountain States of Snefaldia, and has designated an ambassador (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=555&view=findpost&p=6975776) to head our embassy, to be established in Sargedain. We hope this signals the beginning of a long and fruitful friendship between our two great nations.

The Destructor from del Fuego, Mexico, sends his kindest regards.

Sincerely,
Alex Tehrani
Secretary of State"Anyway," Sammy continued as he pulled out a chair, "I'm supposed to meet with Dicey Reilly right now, but she seems otherwise occupied." He glanced to his side, where the Twister match was developing. "Can I buy you a beer or something while I wait?"

Shandreth looked up through his readjusted glasses after taking the last sip of his drink. The young man looked completely out of place in his suit; almost as if he had forgotten he owned one and felt uncomfrotable for having worn it.

"Ah yes, yes, the Kennyite heathens! Oh, excuse me; some in government frown upon your people but I just find them delightful."

He opened and quickly read the announcement, pulling a pen from his dalmatic and writing his name in a flourish.

"Very good, very. We'll have this all taken care of in a bit, yes." At the offer of a drink he smiled.

"A drink? Young man, the drinks are on me for the moment. What's your pleasure?"


Meanwhile, the Mother Superior was in a less spiritual heaven. Although Ms. Reilly seemed to be one of those "permissive" types, she was liked nonetheless; and the unusual Kawaiian seemed quite wonderful. Cargaminh had done her reading on the Kawaiians- just as restrictive as the Gruenbergers, but without all that oppressive theo-fascism.

"Teams, teams..." she eyed the bar, spotting the tottering Semonova and "aha!" strode off to grab the strumpet, pulling her away from leery-eyed Staffsilvanian.

"Oh my dear! My dear, look at you! Tut tut, no tolerance for the drink! Come here, come here my child. Let's us ladies play a little game!"

"Wouldn't it take a rather large toaster to grill the entire nation?" Prince Rhodri asked wryly

Accelerus smirked. "No, just a lot of alcohol and a lit match."

Dr. Hodz fiddled with his gun some more.

This time, he flicked a switch on it labeled "Reverse".

He aimed and fired it at Sir Albert, hoping to make him sober.

A zap of light pulsed through the air and hit Sir Alberts glass with a flashing green crackle just as he raised it. The blue liquid then promptly leapt out of the glass and flowed back into its bottle miraculously re-corking itself in the process. Luckily Sir Albert had his emergency pint ready in his spare hand for such an eventually and drinking resumed unhindered.

From the shadows a somewhat stern and foreboding mother in law appeared behind Dr Hodz and grimaced towards the 'no weapons' sign, which was the small ragged piece of paper found just below the naked twister strangers bar annual champion listings. She then looked around furtively, and being sure that no-one was listening helpfully suggested to Dr.Hodz that for hoped for result his gun would need much much bigger batteries.....

A zap of light pulsed through the air and hit Sir Alberts glass with a flashing green crackle just as he raised it. The blue liquid then promptly leapt out of the glass and flowed back into its bottle miraculously re-corking itself in the process. Luckily Sir Albert had his emergency pint ready in his spare hand for such an eventually and drinking resumed unhindered.

From the shadows a somewhat stern and foreboding mother in law appeared behind Dr Hodz and grimaced towards the 'no weapons' sign, which was the small ragged piece of paper found just below the naked twister strangers bar annual champion listings. She then looked around furtively, and being sure that no-one was listening helpfully suggested to Dr.Hodz that for hoped for result his gun would need much much bigger batteries.....

Dr. Hodz plugs his gun into a power generator, increasing the output to three gigawatts. He fires twice at Sir Albert.

Dr. Hodz plugs his gun into a power generator, increasing the output to three gigawatts. He fires twice at Sir Albert.

This time the device works perfectly. Well, sort of. Sir Albert starts emitting a loud, repetitive beeping sound and staggers backwards across the room.

"A drink? Young man, the drinks are on me for the moment. What's your pleasure?"Sammy smiled jovially; he always took joy at being put on someone else's tab. It was almost like Ace and Rico offering to pay for their own damn drinks for a change. Momentarily his eyes glassed over as he dreamed of a better life, free from moochers.

"I'll have the usual, an Arrogant Bastard Ale," he said.

He turned to watch the contest get underway, finding little to say to a Holy Father without throwing himself at his feet and begging forgiveness for impure thoughts -- and Sammy had had plenty of those lately, what with all his scheming to get Avaya to put out already, and the public (if somewhat xenophobic) pronouncement (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=606) by a serious former crush that he was "kinda cute."

"So, uhh, you a big Twister fan?" he asked with a nervous laugh. "My money's on the Mother Superior; she seems to want it more. Too bad President Fernanda isn't here though; he always boasts about being a national Twister champion. No record of him competing in any public contests, though. Er...

"Should we start taking bets?"

This time the device works perfectly. Well, sort of. Sir Albert starts emitting a loud, repetitive beeping sound and staggers backwards across the room.

ooc: *cough* don't rp other people's characters beyond your own character's opinions of what they're doing or it's your storyline and it needs moving along. Exceptions being Violet and Jimmy and of course if you order a drink you can safely assume Neville's served you.

*then does a hypocritical reset godmod*

ic: The ACME machine suddenly spluttered into life. For no apparent reason it hiccuped, threw some sparks in the air and turned back time to 30 seconds ago. Someone was about to yell "Don't do it!" but the finger on the trigger was already too far gone and Hodz's gun flashed again.

I am Jandek Sladgrov... Um.. Miss Semanova you do not look well...

Jandek vacates his bar stool, it seems the only polite thing to do (and he was quite uncomfortable anyway)

Please... sit...

Jandek picks up his hurricane and downs it in one steady gulp. Hey blinks slowly, shakes his head and regards the glass with a certain sort of drunken awe.

By Stalin's Mustache... this is a wonderful thing...

He stumbles a little and orders another



"Teams, teams..." she eyed the bar, spotting the tottering Semonova and "aha!" strode off to grab the strumpet, pulling her away from leery-eyed Staffsilvanian.

"Oh my dear! My dear, look at you! Tut tut, no tolerance for the drink! Come here, come here my child. Let's us ladies play a little game!"



One moment Anya was sitting woozily on the sweet old gentlemans offered stool reaching for her third hurricane,the next

Whoosh

She was being pulled across the room by a nun chattering about drinks and twister. Which made very little sense in Anya's booze addled brain.

As a result she intersected with the beam from Dr. Hodz's gun briefly. Just enough to sober her up really.

She blurted." O goodness me but that tingled !" as she was propelled across the floor towards the twister game.

She was quite sober now and even more confused, although Twister did sound interesting.

Sammy smiled jovially; he always took joy at being put on someone else's tab. It was almost like Ace and Rico offering to pay for their own damn drinks for a change. Momentarily his eyes glassed over as he dreamed of a better life, free from moochers.

"I'll have the usual, an Arrogant Bastard Ale," he said.

He turned to watch the contest get underway, finding little to say to a Holy Father without throwing himself at his feet and begging forgiveness for impure thoughts -- and Sammy had had plenty of those lately, what with all his scheming to get Avaya to put out already, and the public (if somewhat xenophobic) pronouncement (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=606) by a serious former crush that he was "kinda cute."

"So, uhh, you a big Twister fan?" he asked with a nervous laugh. "My money's on the Mother Superior; she seems to want it more. Too bad President Fernanda isn't here though; he always boasts about being a national Twister champion. No record of him competing in any public contests, though. Er...

"Should we start taking bets?"


"Arrogant Bastard Ale. I do believe I'll have one as well."

Shandreth laughed. It might not be 5:00 yet, but what the hell did he care?

"I've no idea what's got into Cargaminh. Never seen her this entranced by "dirty heathen foreign customs." Say- does that Reilly bird have a penchant for drugging unsuspecting folk? Never mind, don't answer that. No bets, not until the second round."

Shandreth worked his fingers in a complex little pattern. He'd read through the files on the other delegations, and knew that Faisano was the former ambassador, and that there were a few antics he'd been up to in the UN.

"So, tell me... Sammy, right? Sammy. Tell me, Sammy- how are you looking forward to your tenure as ambassador to Archoille? Have any pining young ladies waiting for your return?"

*in the spirit of friendly putting aside of the unusually out of character not added by Bahgum movement of Sir Albert*

Sir Albert wondered what this beeping was, and noticed that his fobwatch had somehow gone backward to the alarm setting (Bahgumian pub opening time of course). The staggering, in any direction, was nothing new at all.

Being the only object outside the permanent protective Sir Albert mini climate of neat alcohol and ether which permeated and surrounded the sozzled one his watch had taken the full blast of the strange green ray and was now shiny, working and reminding Sir Albert he needed a top up.
"Grand, thanks lad" Sir Albert nodded drunkenly to Dr Hodz (or at least to what seemed to him like a fuzzy Dr Hodz shaped object, which actually turned out to be Violet's chest) , "fancy a pint?"

"Grand, thanks lad" Sir Albert nodded drunkenly to Dr Hodz (or at least to what seemed to him like a fuzzy Dr Hodz shaped object, which actually turned out to be Violet's chest) , "fancy a pint?"

Dr. Hodz rolled his eyes. He was not fond of drunken people.

"I suppose so."

"I've no idea what's got into Cargaminh. Never seen her this entranced by "dirty heathen foreign customs." Say- does that Reilly bird have a penchant for drugging unsuspecting folk? Never mind, don't answer that. No bets, not until the second round." ...

"So, tell me... Sammy, right? Sammy. Tell me, Sammy- how are you looking forward to your tenure as ambassador to Ardchoille? Have any pining young ladies waiting for your return?""Actually there's ... just one, and she's standing right over there." His finger was aimed at the lovely young woman sidling Reilly, who, though usually veil-less these days, was still a compendium of modesty.

Their beers magically materialized right in front of them; Sammy quickly pulled out his bottle-opener key chain and cracked the top off his, taking a generous swig and belching heartily. "She's a really sweet girl," he continued, "and we have a lot of fun together; it's just been ... kinda hard getting her past second. You know what I mean?" He gave Shandreth a knowing smile. He had shed his initial apprehension with his new friend's priestly air, and was becoming more comfortable with him. Shandreth definitely had a way with people, as did Arrogant Bastard Ale.

"Anyway, the new job as ambassador shouldn't be too stressful. Mostly it'll involve kicking it around here -- it's awful hard to tear the Ardchoilleans away from the bar, you know." He took another sip, and leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"And if you can keep a secret, Dicey has been known in the past for ... altering her colleagues' consciousness, as it were, through clever spellwork, but she's mostly harmless. I wouldn't worry too much; your Mother Superior's in good hands."

Dr. Hodz rolled his eyes. He was not fond of drunken people.

"I suppose so."

"neither am I lad", slurred Sir Albert whilst waving his finger in what he felt was a wise and learned gesticulation, "they wobble too much and I have trouble keeping track of them".
Pulling his finger out of his ear, and pausing to wonder just how it got there, he ordered a couple of pints, sending one to Dr Hodz for fixing his watch.

Dicey had been weaving toward the woman in the sparklesilk dress -- she seemed spectacularly flexible, an ideal team-mate -- but now the Mother Superior had apparently drafted her.

Turning to Dicey and the Mother Superior, she added, "Are we drawing up teams?"

"Teams?" Dicey said muzzily. "Well, uh ..." Truth to tell, she'd forgotten half the rules, but she'd soon remember. After all, she was sure of the essential detail: Twister was extremely physical. With any luck, at some stage she'd be able to fall over, or near, or maybe even onto, Sir Albert, and then, well, who knows?

She cast a precautionary glance towards the bar to check the exact position of her prey. What she saw there was horrifying: Sammy Faisano, all dressed up. Oh Goddess no. He was planning to Present His Credentials. A noble ceremony, fraught with visible and invisible meaning, heavy on the symbolism, magically binding -- and not to be performed while one of the participants was drunkenly playing Twister. It'd be an unconscionable insult, even to the Kennyites. She had to stop him somehow ... think, Dice, don't let him open his mouth ...

"Sammeee!" she carolled joyously. "Avaya! C'mon! You're my team! We're playing Twister!" Desperately she lurched towards the pair and put a playful hand over Sammy's mouth. "No, not a word, Sammy-me-lad; Avaya, get him into the game and we'll see what he's made of." She leered suggestively; overdoing it, she knew, but she had to make it clear even to a Kennyite that this was Not A Good Moment. Any decent diplomat would take the hint, surely ... surely?

Faking a drunken lurch (well, she was pretty sure she was faking), she began pulling the pair towards the Twister mat.

The old nekomusume's eyes opened wide in shock at Dicey walked over and drunkly grabbed hold of Sammy and Avaya. Co-ed Twister without chaperones? she thought. Do these heathen have no shame?

The Kawaiian nun grimaced as she saw a non-Kawaiian working his way through the throng of worshipers at the Shrine of the Manifestation. She debated briefly, wondering which would be the lesser of two evils--neglecting her Shrine business or permitting the ecchi situation that was bound to develop when one mixed men, women, and Twister without proper chaperonage. Deciding the chaperonage could wait a few moments, she headed quickly over to Jawey and said, "Please, sir...don't touch the Shrine--mind the ropes," referring to the twisted rice-straw ceremonial cords draped around the Shrine, marking the boundry set apart for the Manifestation living there.

Smiling at the Gaffaen, she pointed him towards her table, where the old nekomusme had set up a sort of gift-shop and tourist bureau, neatly stocked with assorted hand-made religious icons and trinkets. The rack of travel brochures had been replaced by a banner reading "ADOPT A KAWAIIAN VILLAGE TODAY!" and contained numerous pamphlets giving the latest news about the Kawaiian diaspora (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=523311&highlight=diaspora) and appeals for help her nation's NSUN Nuncia was publishing.

"Now sir," she beamed, "how may I help you?"

Blearily reading the cover of the appeal to all UN Nations Jawey laughed, his accent becoming steadily more pronounced. "Sounds like ya want exactly what each of the Gaffaen territories get," gesticulating wildly with the wine bottle again, "their own bi' of land, their own government, intense sussss-susspition of each other, the right to their own religious an' cultural practisses, the right to have a represzentative on the Coun-cil and only subject to the rules made by the Council and the UN. Council's a bit biased but that can only work to yer advantage methingsck I mean ya woulddena want the Council marryin' off to a Chinookian would ya? Course some git better land than others but hey, not all were made equal right?"
He broke off mid-thought. "Eh..you're not a furry!" Disappointed he sat on the nearest non-leafleted table and took a swig from the bottle.

The nekomusume nods, looking a little worried at the obviously inebriated Gaffaen. Still, business was business, so she said, "Perhaps I could see to making an appointment for you with our Nuncia, sir?"

"Eh? Why would I wanna do that?" he thought over the last few minutes. "You dohnat think?...Oh jeez...you'd really wanna be a Territory? I'm naht sure what the Council would say." 'You've really put your foot into it this time Gohn' he thought to himself.

Wolfgang, Kyle, and IX all perked up their ears and looked around at the word, "furry," it being a common moniker for their kind.

The old nekomusume nodded, and offered Jawey a brochure, saying "We're trying to get as many of our people resettled as we can. If your nation has some spare land it can lease, of course. Our Nuncia can fill you in with the details."

A man wearing khaki pants, flower print shirt, and a lei walked into the bar

He did a spin around and now was wearing his usual blue suit and tie

Richard looked around the bar and saw the usual cast of characters were still there

"Hi everybody!" he said and walked over to where had seen Fiore playing Twister

Ardchoilleans;13015569']She cast a precautionary glance towards the bar to check the exact position of her prey. What she saw there was horrifying: Sammy Faisano, all dressed up. Oh Goddess no. He was planning to Present His Credentials. A noble ceremony, fraught with visible and invisible meaning, heavy on the symbolism, magically binding -- and not to be performed while one of the participants was drunkenly playing Twister. It'd be an unconscionable insult, even to the Kennyites. She had to stop him somehow ... think, Dice, don't let him open his mouth ...

"Sammeee!" she carolled joyously. "Avaya! C'mon! You're my team! We're playing Twister!" Desperately she lurched towards the pair and put a playful hand over Sammy's mouth. "No, not a word, Sammy-me-lad; Avaya, get him into the game and we'll see what he's made of." She leered suggestively; overdoing it, she knew, but she had to make it clear even to a Kennyite that this was Not A Good Moment. Any decent diplomat would take the hint, surely ... surely?

Faking a drunken lurch (well, she was pretty sure she was faking), she began pulling the pair towards the Twister mat.Sammy's eyes widened with slight alarm as the witch-lady closed in on him, lurching drunkenly, clawing at his wrist like an unfriendly feline, and eying him avariciously as though she were trying to come on to him. The ambassador was not averse to a bit of harmless fun, even if it did include Twister with a bunch of old people, but clearly, whatever Dicey had in mind right now, Sammy was not drunk enough for it.

He freed himself from her grasp as graciously as he could. "It's OK," he told her. "I'll play the next round. You and Avaya go have fun, and I'll keep Ambassador Shandreth company here." He patted the Snefaldian on the back as he reclaimed his seat and his Ale, and after meeting Avaya's sad eyes and whimpered protestations with a palm to the cheek and reassuring coos, was home free. He sat there sipping his beer, wondering whether he'd dodged a bullet or just incited the wrath of the Twister Gods.

Jandek sits bolt upright and blinks in near total confusion.

I must have nodded off...

He rubs his eyes and consults his watch, looking around nervously

Is late... maybe he is not coming... a prank call perhaps... still evening is not entirely wasted... I on the other hand...

He waves down the bartender and requests a bottle of vodka and a glass (why fight it?) and quietly hums to himself as he pours a drink. He glances over in the direction of the game of Twister

This should be good for a laugh...

Sammy's eyes widened with slight alarm as the witch-lady closed in on him, lurching drunkenly, clawing at his wrist like an unfriendly feline, and eying him avariciously as though she were trying to come on to him. The ambassador was not averse to a bit of harmless fun, even if it did include Twister with a bunch of old people, but clearly, whatever Dicey had in mind right now, Sammy was not drunk enough for it.

He freed himself from her grasp as graciously as he could. "It's OK," he told her. "I'll play the next round. You and Avaya go have fun, and I'll keep Ambassador Shandreth company here." He patted the Snefaldian on the back as he reclaimed his seat and his Ale, and after meeting Avaya's sad eyes and whimpered protestations with a palm to the cheek and reassuring coos, was home free. He sat there sipping his beer, wondering whether he'd dodged a bullet or just incited the wrath of the Twister Gods.

Harmalan guffawed. "Oh my, Mam'selle Reilly! Sammy and I are right in the middle of a discussion, I'm afraid he'll just have to watch! Now, Mother Cargaminh has her partner, and you have yours- four to four, even teams. Adding Sammy wouldn't make it very fair."

He leaned back, taking a swig of his beer and simultaneously adjusting his glasses. He must look fairly comical- dressed in all his brocade robes and stoles, with a pari of pince nez and a hug mug of black beer in his hand.

Taking another drink, he considered that he was possibly the least comical thing in the bar at the moment.

Leaning over to Sammy, he whispered. "So, I take it Dicey is a thorn in your side when it comes to the wooing of that fine young girl?"

Not noticed by anyone, two soldiers were bickering at the end of the bar. The soldier to the left, probably in his mid twenties, placed his hand over the soldier's face. His eyes then turned completely red, and the other soldier's brains splattered against the wall...

Jimmy the part-time barman gave a cluck of annoyance as the Bar shimmered infinitesimally and switched the soldiers back. True, he wouldn't have to clean up the blood, since it now hadn't happened, but it was so very inconsiderate!

Besides, he'd felt a sudden nasty sensation in his stomach at the thought that Neville wasn't around to fix the Acme Transmogrifier if anything went wrong. Percussive maintenance usually worked on the thing, but sometimes with weird side-effects.
________________________

OOC: Sorry, Cazelia, the Bar is a no-dying area. You'll have to go elsewhere if you want to do that. UN health laws. Similarly, all weapons have non-lethal effect inside, and tend to turn into strange objects.

There is a convenient alley nearby for ambushes, secret meetings and similar skullduggery. Of course, there's no telling what else might be in the alley ...

Someone switched pressed a button on one of the many ACME machines in the building the 2 soldiers where back at the bar continuing to bicker, the guns that they dfid have became water pistols... and John MacKay, an ex-Bazalonian UN Ambassador just suddenly appeared.

"Hi, guys... I think I need a Forhey's."

It was a day of sudden appearances. Bast, the slightly larger than human-sized Ardchoillean Cat, popped into existence with a slight hiss of displaced air alongside the Bazalonian.

"John!" he cried heartily. "Great to see you back! Here, Jimmy, put that on my account -- and I'll have the same!"

Beads of moisture ran tantalisingly down the glass.

"Damn!" said Bast suddenly, catching a familiar voice. He spun around, realising that it was, indeed, Sammy Faisano behind him. And since he'd just been denouncing (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13020465&postcount=4) that worthy in another theatre, it behooved him, under the friendly traditions of the Bar, to buy the Kennyite a drink.

"Sammy, you remember John MacKay!" he said heartily, grabbing the latter fondly by the shoulder and waving a paw expansively. "Let me buy you and your friend a drink to celebrate his return -- and to show that there are no hard feelings, of course!"

There was no telling how it happened; Cats are usually the most careful of creatures, picking their way on velvet feet among all the hazards of life. But somehow, just this once, Bast was clumsy.

The longed-for Forheys cascaded all over the counter and dripped sadly, slowly, onto the floor.

"Bast, Long time since I've seen you, my feline friend, thanks for the offer."

John sidled up to the bar, he didn't recognise Jimmy but then he had been away from the bar for quite some time. "Sammy, good to see you again, still causing mischief or is that classified." with that he chuckled as he looked in horror as the beer cascaded along the counter...

"Well, I suppose I don't really need it now, anyway..." John waxed lyrical "... Hey, by chance, might you have a deck of cards?"

Leaning over to Sammy, he whispered. "So, I take it Dicey is a thorn in your side when it comes to the wooing of that fine young girl?""Actually, no," Sammy replied. He turned toward his new friend, finding his movements a bit looser than they were before, having nearly collided with the Snefaldian. He gazed down into his Arrogant Bastard Ale bottle to find it nearly empty. "And that's the funny thing," he continued, with a slight slur. "Dicey tolerates us -- and by 'tolerate,' I mostly mean that she hasn't cast a horrible irreversible spell on me yet -- it's Avaya's family who's been giving her grief. A lot of politics there, and apparently, me and her are on the front pages of Ardchoillean tabloids every other day as a result.

He leaned closer to Shandreth, treating him to traces of a beer-reeking breath. "I'm starting to think that's why I was chosen as ambassador to that country!" He sat back upright, and had to grip the counter to keep from falling backward. "Anyway, part of it is Avaya's fault, bless her heart; she had to tell her uncle and her mom that we were engaged to get them off our back." He drained the last of his Arrogant Bastard and slammed the bottle on the counter. He didn't even have to ask for another, for as luck would have it, more drinks were on their way.

New company arrived in the shape of a certain feline Sammy's sister had once dressed up in bows and called "Betsy." "Oh, hey, what's up, Bast?" he said, turning to his other side to acknowledge Dicey's famed feline adviser. The Kennyite was extending his arm toward the elusive Mr. MacKay, whom he recognized from sightings in the bar on the assembly floor, when their drinks came crashing upon the counter, dribbling all over his best suit. He stepped backward from the stool suddenly to shake the excess suds off his sleeve, then, giving up, removed the dark jacket and draped it defeatedly over a nearby chair. What a tragedy! Not so much for the suit -- it was uncomfortable and chafed like fuck, especially when a certain "wrongfully" sentenced President for Life put a game of Twister before her diplomatic duties -- but Sammy had really wanted to try that Forhey's ...

Angus the monkey and the Robotic Destructor Bunny™ continue trying to operate the ouija board. The Bunny shouts "CAG!". Angus screeches. The planchette begins to move and spells out...

S-T-E-V-E-N P-U-S-H-O-F-F

Angus howls with rage and throws poo. The Destructor Bunny leaps upon the table, runs in circles, screams and shouts: "CAG! CAG! CAG!"

Suddenly, the ferret hops upon the table and sits himself down squarely on the planchette. Angus and the Bunny pause from their tantrums and again place their paws on the (now ferret occupied) planchette. Again it begins to move and this time spells...

O-N T-H-E T-O-P S-H-E-L-F O-F T-H-E B-A-R I-S A W-H-I-S-K-E-Y F-I-L-L-E-D S-T-A-T-U-E O-F E-L-V-I-S P-R-E-S-L-E-Y. S-C-R-E-W H-I-S H-E-A-D O-F-F. D-R-I-N-K L-I-K-E A V-A-M-P-I-R-E.

Angus darts across the room like a monkey possessed. He climbs the huge shelves behind the bar, snags the Presley decanter, screeches at Neville, leaps down and runs back to the table. Once there, he screws Presley's head off and hands it to the Destructor Bunny. The Bunny eats it. He then pours out a couple of jiggers in a glass for the ferret, which begins lapping it up with much gusto. Angus now takes the headless Presley in both paws, turns it up, and drinks with mighty gulps worthy of a thirsty Viking.

Two minutes later, Angus notices that the bar (while blurrier than it was before) is now filled with a combination of lady monkeys who want to be his simian love slave and male monkeys who are invading his territory.

He goes off looking for a date...or a fight....or both.

To Be Continued.

Noticing an outbreak of oiuja boards, twister and Kennyism, Sir Albert decided that now was a good time to take his bottle of Blue Bahgumian Brandy, six pints and salted peanuts back to his table and practice stroking his wayward ferret.

Over hearing Sammy's conversation with the Snefaldian and the reference about Tabloids.

"Bah, don't talk to me about Tabloids... Blasted things..." John commented

He patted around his body and found a deck of cards, pulling it them out he pulled up a chair at a random table and started to deal out a hand for a game of solitaire

And she kicked him down the steps.

The strains of rumbling on the stairs coupled with Fernanda's frightened yelps echoed from the stairwell as Chiang's shadowed figure, still visible through the doorway, remained where it stood, observing the president's reckless tumble to the landing below. This was immediately followed by a loud crash and the aftermath of painful grunts and groans as Fernanda apparently tried to stand up again. "Oh, you are so fired!" his reverberating voice shouted.

Chiang sighed, and opened her corset.

"Aw, man! That's a nice set! You're rehired!"Shelob watched from a darkened corner of the stairwell as The Destructor from Del Fuego, Mexico rolled down the stairs. The one they called Chiang turned and disappeared back into the bar and then all was silent in the stairwell.

Eyes glowing with anticipation, or perhaps just reflecting the available light, Shelob reached one tentative tentacle to touch the toppled terror's temple.

"Wakesz noo? Yessz.... "

Keelhaul walked up to the bar. "Anything as long as it doesn't have rum or limes in it"

Thankful for finally being somewhere where he didn't have to drink the awful bloodstonian rum, he shuddered at the memory of the coconut shells and little paper umbrellas his first mate had suggested as an 'improvment'.

After finding a empty table in a corner, he settled down to feed little bits of dolphin to his shoulder penguin.

'rum, someone say rum? mkae mine a pint, just for tasting purposes of course', slurred Sir Albert

Sammy enters his office on the eighth floor to find Cdr. Chiang rummaging through his desk. She stops suddenly as he swings the door open, flashing him a look of absolute horror.

"Ambassador!" she breathes urgently, brandishing some incriminating documents uncovered in her search. "Tell me it's not true! Blatant embezzlement of mission funds so you can run off to Ardchoille with that girl you've been plugging? With diplomatic immunity? These numbers say far more than they intended!"

The ambassador meets Chiang's dumbfounded gaze with an amused grin, as dramatic chords begin to play. "How long have you known, Commander?"

"Then it's true?" Chiang asks appallingly. "You son of a bitch!"

"Of course it is. Why else would I let Ace and Rico run up my bar tab until I could legally file for bankruptcy unless I had a Plan B?" He pulls a briefcase from beneath the couch and pats it reassuringly.

"Why?" Chiang demands with an uncharacteristic expression of fear.

"For years I had to deal with the taunts and scoffs of foreign diplomats who branded me as stupid and crude because of my nationality. Well, no more! This mission, with its complete lack of accountability, was my only chance to seek a better life abroad. The chance to move to Ardchoille and obtain the necessary training to become one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world!"

Chiang shakes her head. "I don't fucking believe this," she intones.

"Yeah, and unfortunately, you won't remember much of it either," Sammy snaps at her, pulling out his Beretta 9 mm.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't he though?" A new face appears in the doorway, its owner sweeping to Sammy's side with an evil smile.

"Avaya, you bitch!"

Avaya cackles diabolically as the suspenseful music grows louder. "What's the matter, Commander? A little jealous that I can win the guy without displaying my womanly parts at every available opportunity?"

"You were in on this from the start, weren't you?"

"Of course I was!" She calmly rests her head on Sammy's shoulder, sneering at the commander while fingering his chest. "Anything to help my man get what he wants!"

"You kept pestering me in the Strangers' Bar over silly things like library visits and if I think Sammy really likes you! Playing the innocent game all the time! That was just to distract me, wasn't it?"

"So shrewd, so astute!" Avaya observes sarcastically. "And they say Kennyites can't figure anything out!"

"And you!" Chiang turns an accusatory finger on Sammy. "Sending me on wild goose chases in the bar! Going after foreign diplomats! Illegally wiretapping their phones! Eavesdropping on their conversations! Convincing me the mission was under constant threat! That was all just a ruse, wasn't it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Sammy says flatly. "Turns out this will be your final mission, however." He raises his handgun. "Say good-night, Gracie!"

"Good-night, Gracie."

All three of them turn to find a visitor they weren't expecting.

"Susa!" Chiang exclaims. "You're alive!" She and Sammy and Avaya all gape at the readers in shock as the melodramatic organ music comes to a climax.

"Of course I'm alive! What'd you think I was gonna do? Blow myself up?"

"You ... you won't have a chance to!" Sammy says desperately as he turns his Beretta on Susa.

"Dude, seriously! Marrying Queen Adrienne didn't kill me! You think a bullet will?! Now hand over that briefcase."

Clearly defeated, Sammy complies.

"Aw, yeah!" Susa says satisfactorily as he clicks open the case to examine the neatly arranged bills inside. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the casino upstairs! Peace out!"


Sammy awakens suddenly with a gasp, finding himself sprawled on the floor of the bar, still wearing his rumpled suit, a stream of drool stretching between his lips and the Twister mat as he raises his head. Dicey was long gone, or possibly in the little girls' room.

"Ambassador!" Cdr. Chiang exclaims as she grasps Sammy's shoulder and pulls him up to sit him down at a nearby table.

"Commander," Sammy says quietly, "I just had the most horrible dream, where Susa was alive and had become the new UN ambassador!"

Chiang chuckles uneasily. "Then you won't want to see this morning's Town Crier," she says.

"What? Lemme see!" And he grabs the folded newspaper from the commander's hands to view the front page:

http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a118/teddygrahams113/towncrier.jpg

Susa named UN ambassador
http://www.frankwarren.tv/fw4/picturegallary/uploads/Amir%20Khan/KhanTNT002jwA.jpgSammy lifts his gaze heavenward. "Noooooooo!!!!!" he cries.

Puzzled by the Manuelo one's stillness, and silence, especially the silence, Shelob carefully moved closer giving her pedipalp sensillae a full whiff of Fernanda.

"Explainssz much, yessz."

Rather full, her spideryness had no intention of eating the great one. Gazing upon the luscious epitome of chaos, yes. Taking him home and placing on the mantle... perhaps. A gift for her queendom. Spittle dripped from her maw.

A noise in the hallway above pierced the spider's consciousness causing her to draw back into the shadows.

"Next timesz, ready I me be, yessz." Turning, she once again disappeared into the dark.

Sir Albert watched Shelob disappear into the shadows, "a natural that one, she'd get on well with the grand high mother in law", he thought. Shuddering he got back to his rapidly diminishing pint of rum.

Aran walked in to the bar with an air of jovialty. Finally getting some down time on a busy and work filled day in Mr. Namari's office. Half considering it a joke and half serious, he bent over to a strange monkey creature that apeared to be looking for somthing and asked, "Hey do you have any idea where I can get a date around here."

Anya grew very bored,very quickly waiting for this rather odd game to start.Then nearly fell off her stool realizing that it had all been a dream. Except for the alcohol part.
Quickly she called for another Hurricane and eyed the odd looking monkey warily.

Aran walked in to the bar with an air of jovialty. Finally getting some down time on a busy and work filled day in Mr. Namari's office. Half considering it a joke and half serious, he bent over to a strange monkey creature that apeared to be looking for somthing and asked, "Hey do you have any idea where I can get a date around here."

Dr. Hodz eyed the ambassador and rolled his eyes, groaning loudly.

"Somebody get me a friggin' drink." he said. "After all, I control Akimonad now."

Jandek had sat deep in thought, drinking alone for sometime. Virtually unnoticed by those in the bar one of Jandek's aides, Krado Lemtakin, had slunk in and taken a stool alongside him.

Jandek: Ahhh Krado, you are here at last, you want a drink...

Krado: We've been recalled.

Jandek: What?

Krado: Premier Politma... he's recalled us... the Helgetans made their move... the Pigmatans too...

Jandek: IDIOT!

Krado: he see's the whole thing as some kind of effort to isolate us... is huge diplomatic stand-off so he's shutting off ties until is all sorted out...

Jandek: THE DAMN FOOL!! We have to go back?

Krado: No we're okay. It doesn't look like it'll go that far. They'll probably just have a Regional Conference and we'll have to open up some of the nuclear sites up to inspectors... but Premier Politma's milking the whole mess to shore up domestic support for the Party... It's still a little worrying though...

Jandek: FUCK.

Jandek calls for another glass and he and Krado sit in silence for a moment before gulping down their drinks and charging their glasses again.

Krado: Looks like we'll be spending a lot more time in here now.

Jandek: Eh... this is pretty much all I do anyway...

Dr. Hodz eyed the ambassador and rolled his eyes, groaning loudly.

"Somebody get me a friggin' drink." he said. "After all, I control Akimonad now."

"Well then God help your country." Turning back to the monkey, "Now about finding a date..."

Dr. Hodz eyed the ambassador and rolled his eyes, groaning loudly.

"Somebody get me a friggin' drink." he said. "After all, I control Akimonad now."

The good but slightly unwholesome Sen. Sulla stops one of the barmaids on his way to the Golden Tee(TM) machine and says,

"Send some Wild Turkey Rare Breed(TM) over to Dr. Hodz my dear, and bring two on the rocks over to me. I'm feeling a little like Travino today."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out $20.00 and gives it to her,
"Here's a little extra for rush service."

Sen. Sulla continues to walk over to the Golf game while softly singing In Heaven there is no Beer .

Andre Krashdetski enters the bar and signals to Jandek and Krado.

Andre: Premier Politma is call us back to Staffsilvania, they send through emergency telegram. The stand-off is get worse. Premier Politma shutting down all diplomatic ties with everyone and demanding we return home. He even withdraw the UN.

Jandek: *long sigh* Is all over... Everything we work for... We work hard to bring down iron curtain but... I don't know...

Andre, Jandek and Krado depart.

The door of the Stranger's Bar opened, and a heavily pregnant Ambassador Carina Talchimio-Spicolli walked in, searching for a seat. She spotted her staffer Carolina Entelbucco with another guy on the bar, and tried to avoid being noticed by her.

Carina walked to the other side of the bar with difficulty, but she was in no luck as Carolina noticed her.

"Madame Ambassador! What are you doing here?" Carolina asked.
"Uh..." Technically, Ambassador Talchimio-Spicolli is on pregnancy leave and she has sent that teenager Kyle di Fontana to the General Assembly. But she is still living within the mission, and now she has appeared on the Stranger's Bar, of all places!
"Come here, Madame Ambassador, I'd like to introduce you to the Ambassador from Cookesland."

Carina could not resist as Carol gripped the ambassador's hand and led her to her seat.

Serifina Karin marches into the bar, growling under her breath, and carrying her briefcase. She wastes no time in getting some vodka, then finds a seat t dlop into.

"Stupid, idiotic, lamebrained morons..."

Anya huddles over her Hurricane at the bar avoiding eye contact with everyone.From her bag comes a rather insistent ringing noise. It is her cell phone.
She pulls it out, answering it she listens a few minutes. She nods absently then a look of surprise comes over her face.
She closes the phone and gets up rushing headlong out the door.

I say, that mutton stew looks delectable.

hello, my name is Alexi Kronstatd, and i am here to represent the USSDC.

If anyone wishes for a drink, our glorious leader (Derek Crosby) is paying for the next round of drinks for all.

make mine a real ale...:cool:

The door of the Stranger's Bar opened, and a heavily pregnant Ambassador Carina Talchimio-Spicolli walked in, searching for a seat. She spotted her staffer Carolina Entelbucco with another guy on the bar, and tried to avoid being noticed by her.

Carina walked to the other side of the bar with difficulty, but she was in no luck as Carolina noticed her.

"Madame Ambassador! What are you doing here?" Carolina asked.
"Uh..." Technically, Ambassador Talchimio-Spicolli is on pregnancy leave and she has sent that teenager Kyle di Fontana to the General Assembly. But she is still living within the mission, and now she has appeared on the Stranger's Bar, of all places!
"Come here, Madame Ambassador, I'd like to introduce you to the Ambassador from Cookesland."

Carina could not resist as Carol gripped the ambassador's hand and led her to her seat.

"Hello, Richard York, very nice to meet you." said Richard cordially

"Hello, Richard York, very nice to meet you." said Richard cordially
"Carina Talchimio-Spicolli. It's very nice to meet you too..." the pregnant ambassador rubbed her big belly as she felt a kick from her baby inside. "Finally I've met the Cookeslandic Ambassador... We in Brutland and Norden actually think of Cookesland as our brothers. Right, Carol?"

Carol nodded and turned to Richard. "Actually, my nephews like to watch CBC (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Cookeslandic_Broadcasting_Corporation), especially its programs for children."

Standing on a table, Sir Albert raises his voice to make a Strangers Bar public announcement, "Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, break out the rum!...Arrrrrrrr"

http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html

Indupitably, today is a most portentious day.

We applaud the fact that the world has deemed it necessary to put aside a day for the bloodstonian national language. However, we ourselves are celebrating our very own 'talk like a landlubber' day.

With that in mind,

"A Gin and Tonic, please Barkeep"

Jawey watched several casks of rum sprout legs and attempt to break out the bar.
Taking a rubber sword from behind a decorative shield on the wall Jawey leaped into the doorway and stood there swinging the sword perilously...that is of losing his balance.

Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby VI steps into the room and looks around at the drunken antics and individual groups inside.

I'm sorry...I was looking for the bar, not the General Assembly.

Sir Rugglesby throws a salute to the ambassador from Gaffa as he manages to prevent the rum from escaping by tripping it.

"Greetings Sir Bodsworth!" Jawey said whilst returning the salute with his swordhand and neatly poking an ambassador in the eye with the rubber sword - proving that even the most innoffensive objects could be a liability in the wrong hands.
"I promised you a drink did I not? - Miss Violet! A drink for the gentleman, whatever he wishes on the Gaffaen tab." Fortunately Violet was used to loud rude men and nodded from behind the bar at the far side of the room.
His promise fulfilled, Jawey prepared to tackle the next rampaging rum barrel.

_______________________________

ooc: Welcome! As you can tell it can get a bit manic in here, it's pretty free roleplay and often runs ahead or behind the GA - or even both at the same time! Violet Bracket and Jimmy the spare-barman can be controlled by anyone. Neville the Barlord is mostly roleplayed by Ardchoille - he will provide you with whatever you order but respect the fact that he may actually be part of a rp situation and may have to finish that first.
Enjoy the SB!

"Huzzah! If the gentleman offers a drink on him, I'll take it! A simple gin and tonic will do for me!"

Sir Bodsworth throws another salute as a rum barrel passes him. Looking around he spots an empty chair at the bar near one end and takes a seat.

"Reminds me of my great-great-greatgrandfather's favorite club back home in Tanular. Except that had more pirates."

Shelob steadied the pirate's tri-corner on her head. Hoping her disguise and the darkness of the Bar would allow her to slide in and on to the bar stool on the end.

Jimmyssz, a grasszhopper pleasze. Just likesz Violet makesz, yessz with lotssz of leggsz for crunchiessz.. Aarrrszz.

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

"Carina Talchimio-Spicolli. It's very nice to meet you too..." the pregnant ambassador rubbed her big belly as she felt a kick from her baby inside. "Finally I've met the Cookeslandic Ambassador... We in Brutland and Norden actually think of Cookesland as our brothers. Right, Carol?"

Carol nodded and turned to Richard. "Actually, my nephews like to watch CBC (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Cookeslandic_Broadcasting_Corporation), especially its programs for children."

Richard smiled "Always a good thing to know we have friends, or brothers in our case, out there." then noticing her swollen belly said "By the way congratulations, when are you due?"

In a dark, slightly musty, very cobewebby corner of the Bar, a shape lay. Lurking like a slug on a dark night that waits for an unwary foot, the shape waited in a comfortable yet low-slung chair, distorted by its posture, head slumped on a shining table. Courror. He stirred. For the first time in many, many weeks, he managed to raise his battered head from the polished table at which he had slumped, unceremoniously, following a particularly bad fall coupled to a truly heroic intake of alcohol.

“Aaaaaarrr… what happened to my head?” Courror paused, waiting for an answer, but received none. Indeed, it seemed that this section of the ever-changing landscape in which he lived was very much deserted. The Bar had once again received a new influx of guests to leaven the numbers of old-timers, and things seemed to have been rearranged a bit, but not so much that he couldn’t find his way groggily from the darkened corner and towards the bar itself.

He parked his weary body on a vacant stool, pausing once again to admire the shiny pewter mugs hanging invitingly from their hooks, and waved absently in the general direction of the staff before slumping back into a groaning heap, hoping they would realise that he desired a little something to chase away the worse effects of his excess (and coma), and restore his sight sufficiently to allow him to see that what seemed to be a giant spider ordering a grasshopper was in fact… well, whatever it was, because it certainly wasn’t that. No sirree.

Wolfgang leaned over to Doctor Hodz. "Perhaps your sobriety gun would do that one some good?" He pointed at the disoriented delegate.

Dr. Hodz aimed and fired his sobriety gun at Ambassador Courror.

"I knew this thing would come in handy." he said.
He then began drinking the liquor Sen. Sulla had graciously purchased for him.

ooc: Still waiting for that monkey to do something.

… Dicey was long gone, or possibly in the little girls' room.

Greatly relieved, Dicey struggled back to her barstool and plonked her hat down on the bar. Morosely she eyed the many small, singed holes in the headgear while pinching out the smouldering hem of her robe. The Twister game, it seemed, had vanished in her absence – not that she had any idea of how long that absence had been, or even where it had been.

Though she knew all too well the site of the last few searing seconds, just before a particularly awe-inspiring Manifestation had booted her out. Her ears were still ringing with molten phrases – “Damned lucky I’m sending you back where you belong! (zap!) Try that again and I’ll dump you in Findhorn without your magical powers for a century or so! (bzzzt!) No, in Fundamentally Flawed! For Goddess’s sake, getting drunk enough to drift dimensions! (bzzt, zap!) At your age! What kind of example (zap!) are you setting! (zap-zap-zap! Boot!)”

Her stomach still knotted with guilt and remorse –- one of the worst parts of doing something stupid is knowing that you, wonderful you, have done something stupid – Dicey looked challengingly round the bar. So okay, maybe her deities could tell her off (though now, of course, she could think of quite a few things she could have said in her own defence, not least of which was “it’s all Your fault!”) … anyway, maybe she’d let the Goddess incarnate push her round, but no way was anyone else going to, right? She wasn’t going to stand anything from anyone, okay? In fact, she was going to go and kick a few butts right now, this minute, just on principle …

Except that the availability of kickable butts was low. Avaya had crept off somewhere, her new staffer was in the GA … maybe she should try taking that dangerous object off Dr Hodz; the idea of anyone sobering up the Bar was hideous in the extreme. But no, if being torn apart by raging bar habitués was his karma, who was she to interfere? Dammit, wasn’t there anyone she could monster?

"Ambassador!" Cdr. Chiang exclaims as she grasps Sammy's shoulder and pulls him up to sit him down at a nearby table.

Aaaaahhhh!

A witchy shape loomed over the Kennyites. A foot tapped. Fingers on folded arms tapped, too.

“Sooooo!” it said belligerently. “Soooo, Sammy Faisano! Is this how we present our credentials, eh?”

This was the first time Horgen had stepped inside the Strangers Bar at the UN, especially since he was quite proud of his straight-edge lifestyle. But still, the prospect of a free drink was okay, so he...

Well, could've taken a table, ahd there been a table to take without having to resort to petty thievery. The bar, similarly, was packed near to capacity. He was going to have to play this the hard way: by ear. He walked up to the bar, and promptly ordered a beer, the best there was. After taking the drink, he moved out of its range, and waited to see what would happen next.

Sir Bodsworth spots Ambassador Horgen and calls out to him

"Ambassador Horgen, welcome! There's a free seat over here...against the wall too!"

"Why thank you," Horgen responded to Sir Bodsworth's ivitation, before looking towards the wall, hoping it would not lead to anything too serious...or fatal! "Are you taking up the free drink, or have you done so already?"

Sir Bodsworth turns to the nearby bar and orders his scotch, and has Horgen's drink added to his bill.

"I'm just getting there...hmm...there's still 7100 plus ambassador's who can cash in though. Might have to have the boss cut prison spending to cover this bill..."

"That's okay," Horgen jokes half-heartedly. "Can you imagine how much I'm going to have to fork to pay for all these ambassadors to go on holiday at Gaia Beach Resort? Thank goodness for a minimal Arms budget."

Courror ...waved absently in the general direction of the staff before slumping back into a groaning heap, hoping they would realise that he desired a little something to chase away the worse effects of his excess (and coma), and restore his sight sufficiently to allow him to see that what seemed to be a giant spider ordering a grasshopper was in fact… well, whatever it was, because it certainly wasn’t that. No sirree.Shelob reached a pedipalp into a thorax fold and tossed Jimmy a doubloon when he brought her drink.

"Real it issz, took it off..hmmsz...old sailor givesz it to us, yessz."

The figure slumped at the bar catches Shelob's eyes. Bringing the straw to her maw with one tentacle, she tips her pirate's hat at the groaning heap with another ... and winks.

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

Richard smiled "Always a good thing to know we have friends, or brothers in our case, out there." then noticing her swollen belly said "By the way congratulations, when are you due?"
"Why, thank you," Carina replied. "Knut and I had been trying for some time. I'm two weeks to term now, and I am expecting twins, actually."

She smiled and then turned to a passing gnome. "Hello, can I get a pint of alcohol?"
"Which one?"
She wanted to drink desperately, she just blurted out the first name she saw. "That 100 proof scotch please."
The gnome then went to get the order.

Turning back to Richard and Carol, she looked around and then whispered, "Knut's a bit strict. He won't even let me drink wine or cow liquor (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Brutland_and_Norden#Food)... but he's not here..."

ooc: Still waiting for that monkey to do something.
Angus the monkey screeches and runs across the Yellow Sea Islands representative's table, sending glasses and flatware flying in all directions.

OOC: There, he did something. :p
I'm busy with other things right now but bar patrons can feel free to RP Angus doing things. Just don't get him killed or mutilated or anything. I'll play him some more later when I have more time.

Glog Firemaker walks into the Strangers' Bar carrying a spear, a bundle of wood and a dead suckling pig. He finds a long-unused fireplace in the corner of the bar and starts a fire in it. He skins and dresses the pig, places it on a spit and begins cooking it.

Glog sniffs the air several times and smells the usual bar smells of people, cigarettes and alcohol...then he picks up the scent of the Wolf-Cat-Man Thing. He walks cautiously over to Citizen Wolfgang Zero-Thirteen.

"What this? Look like man. *sniff* Smell like man. Smell like cat. *sniff* Smell like wolf. Not man. Wolf-Cat. *sniff* Wolf-Cat-Man. Strange. *sniff* Mostly wolf. Wolf GOOD!!! Wolf strong and fast. Brave! Wolf sometimes hunt with Glog people. Take much game. Wolf and Glog people share. Meat GOOD!!! Plenty for all."

"I Glog. Come to UN cave mountain to talk about UN law. UN law BAD!!! Glog share pig meat with wolf."

Angus the monkey screeches and runs across the Yellow Sea Islands representative's table, sending glasses and flatware flying in all directions.

Dr. Hodz looked sternly at the representative from Yellow Sea Islands.

"Stop scaring monkeys." he said authoritatively.

Dr. Hodz proceeded to walk over to Glog Firemaker.

"Mr. Glog, it's nice to see you. I have a gift."

Dr. Hodz pulls out a can labelled "Napalm" and a zippo lighter.

"These make fire with extreme ease."

"Why, thank you," Carina replied. "Knut and I had been trying for some time. I'm two weeks to term now, and I am expecting twins, actually."

She smiled and then turned to a passing gnome. "Hello, can I get a pint of alcohol?"
"Which one?"
She wanted to drink desperately, she just blurted out the first name she saw. "That 100 proof scotch please."
The gnome then went to get the order.

Turning back to Richard and Carol, she looked around and then whispered, "Knut's a bit strict. He won't even let me drink wine or cow liquor (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Brutland_and_Norden#Food)... but he's not here..."

"Not to sound like a nag, but do you really think you should be doing that? I mean what about you kids?" he said looking towards the Ambassador's belly

The Kawaiian NSUN Nuncia entered the bar, or rather, was entered, being almost pushed into it by a couple of her staff, one of which was apparently still lecturing her about rambling at the microphone while giving speeches in the GA. They made their way towards the bar, and the hectoring deputy Nuncia was about to order some tea when she caught glimpse of Shelob sitting a few stools over. This, of course, sent the entire Kawaiian delegation screaming for the exits.

With the exception of the Nuncia herself, who smiled at the huge spider and said cheerfully, "Kumo-san! It's nice to see you again!" She walked over and took the stool next to the creature, nodding to Jimmy and adding, "Tea, please, barkeep-san. Oolong, if you have it."

(ooc: I guess the reason the fire is out is that it is surrounded by Rip-Van-Winklesque ambassadors. Shh...don't wake them....)

Jawey finally tackled the last barrel and brought it struggling towards the bar. "I claim this share as booty and decree that all ambassadors who do my job for me in my SA & ID code debate get to drink from it." He also gave Violet a large tip just in case there were any issues with his claim.

Spotting the now sobered up man at the bar Jawey clapped him on the back. "I can recognise military or ex-military anywhere. Haven't seen you in the GA tho, are you on leave from...which force?" Catching a glimpse of Shelob beside the military-man he muttered "and that's one ugly woman..."

OOC: There, he did something. :p
I'm busy with other things right now but bar patrons can feel free to RP Angus doing things. Just don't get him killed or mutilated or anything. I'll play him some more later when I have more time.

OOC: If he was killed, wouldn't the ACME time reversal machine just undo it?

Dr. Hodz looked sternly at the representative from Yellow Sea Islands.

"Stop scaring monkeys." he said authoritatively.

Dr. Hodz proceeded to walk over to Glog Firemaker.

"Mr. Glog, it's nice to see you. I have a gift."

Dr. Hodz pulls out a can labelled "Napalm" and a zippo lighter.

"These make fire with extreme ease."

"I'm the scary one?!" Aran shouts covering his face. "The hell's wrong with you!" He screams at the primate. Then looking over at the bar he sees a conversation between a pregnant woman and the Cookesland ambassador. That wasn't what he was interested in though. There was a girl also that was rather... "Hey chimp. Remember that date thing? Forget it." Aran walked over to the girl and said, "Hey there, my name's Aran. Can I buy you something to drink?" It just so happened that his boss Yuru had entered the Strangers Bar. He gave his intern a deft slap in the back of the head on his way past.

Well all,
This is my first time here and it seems very nice. I would like to start off by buying everyone a round of drinks and a fine cigar!:D

Lets get pissed!:cool:

OOC: If he was killed, wouldn't the ACME time reversal machine just undo it?
OOC: Well I wasn't sure if that worked on monkeys.

"Not to sound like a nag, but do you really think you should be doing that? I mean what about you kids?" he said looking towards the Ambassador's belly
"It's been nine months since I got a sip of alcohol!" Carina complained. "And I'm not for a binge drink, I just want some... it's not like I'm going to get myself drunk... Please don't tell Knut about this, he'll get mad at me!"

Just then, the ambassador's husband came into the bar, looking for her. He spotted her near the bar and paced towards her.

"Carina, why are you here?" He asked suspiciously. She did not answer.

Knut turned to the ambassador's companions. "Did she order anything?"

"I'm the scary one?!" Aran shouts covering his face. "The hell's wrong with you!" He screams at the primate. Then looking over at the bar he sees a conversation between a pregnant woman and the Cookesland ambassador. That wasn't what he was interested in though. There was a girl also that was rather... "Hey chimp. Remember that date thing? Forget it." Aran walked over to the girl and said, "Hey there, my name's Aran. Can I buy you something to drink?" It just so happened that his boss Yuru had entered the Strangers Bar. He gave his intern a deft slap in the back of the head on his way past.

Dr. Hodz gave a look back towards Aran, and then turned back to Glog.

"Glog, I'd like to tell you about a new species. It's that man," Hodz said, pointing at Aran. "Tastes excellent when cooked well. Go set it on fire and see."

Dr. Hodz proceeded to walk over to Glog Firemaker.

"Mr. Glog, it's nice to see you. I have a gift."

Dr. Hodz pulls out a can labelled "Napalm" and a zippo lighter.

"These make fire with extreme ease."

Dr. Hodz gave a look back towards Aran, and then turned back to Glog.

"Glog, I'd like to tell you about a new species. It's that man," Hodz said, pointing at Aran. "Tastes excellent when cooked well. Go set it on fire and see."
Why try get Glog do this? Aran person look and smell like Hodz. Maybe Hodz taste good too?

"Please, don't ever say I look like that guy." Aran says over his shoulder. "So miss how about me buying that drink?" Yuru overhears Glog's voiced idea for Dr. Hodz and calls from the bar, "Try it Glog! Maybe then he won't try to get my interns asaulted!"

Alex Taurit, the delegate of Ghostlin, walks in, and hears the bar before he sees it, and says with a sardonic smile, "Well, this is almost EXACTLY like the UN Council chamber...with more noise and booze."

He walks up to the bar, says carefully, "Bartender, vodka gimlet, heavy on the vodka."

"It's been nine months since I got a sip of alcohol!" Carina complained. "And I'm not for a binge drink, I just want some... it's not like I'm going to get myself drunk... Please don't tell Knut about this, he'll get mad at me!"

Just then, the ambassador's husband came into the bar, looking for her. He spotted her near the bar and paced towards her.

"Carina, why are you here?" He asked suspiciously. She did not answer.

Knut turned to the ambassador's companions. "Did she order anything?"

"Oh, Carina was just looking for Carol and found the two of us here. She didn't order anything."

and having perfect timing the gnome carrying Carina's 100 proof Scotch appeared

"Here's your dri..."

Richard quickly grabbed it out of the gnome's hand and took a sip

"Why thank you." he looked over to Knut "They have fantastic service here, you have to have a drink." and took another sip

he hated scotch

Why try get Glog do this? Aran person look and smell like Hodz. Maybe Hodz taste good too?

"No, Aran taste like pig meat. Hodz taste like lava."

Dr. Hodz turns to Yuru. "Shut up." he says commandingly. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

"No, Aran taste like pig meat. Hodz taste like lava."

Dr. Hodz turns to Yuru. "Shut up." he says commandingly. "I don't want to have to hurt you."
Hodz want to cook and eat Aran, Hodz do it himself. Glog not do. You do.

Strangers' Bar full of crazy people. Glog leave. Go back to cave.

Alex Taurit, the delegate of Ghostlin, walks in, and hears the bar before he sees it, and says with a sardonic smile, "Well, this is almost EXACTLY like the UN Council chamber...with more noise and booze."

He walks up to the bar, says carefully, "Bartender, vodka gimlet, heavy on the vodka."

Serifina grins at the comment from Alex, and gives him a nod. "You are exactly correct. Although, I have to say, I see somewhat less defenestration, and discussion thereof, and somewhat more crazy gadgets and discussion of eating people..."

Serifina grins at the comment from Alex, and gives him a nod. "You are exactly correct. Although, I have to say, I see somewhat less defenestration, and discussion thereof, and somewhat more crazy gadgets and discussion of eating people..."

"The only difference is they're a little bit more bold with the toys," Alex smirked as the gimlet was served, "and a little bit more honest about eating each other alive."

He took a sip of the gimlet, nods, will have to do. "I'm surprised some of the more extreme delegations hang out here. You'd think they'd have outlawed booze in their respective countries." Grinning, he offers his hand, "Alex Taurit, Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Ghostlin. Which translates to 'UN delegate' in Ghostlin. Apparently it was decided I was to be fed to the wolves here."

"The only difference is they're a little bit more bold with the toys," Alex smirked as the gimlet was served, "and a little bit more honest about eating each other alive."

He took a sip of the gimlet, nods, will have to do. "I'm surprised some of the more extreme delegations hang out here. You'd think they'd have outlawed booze in their respective countries." Grinning, he offers his hand, "Alex Taurit, Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Ghostlin. Which translates to 'UN delegate' in Ghostlin. Apparently it was decided I was to be fed to the wolves here."

Serifina takes the hand, shaking it briefly. "Lady Serifina Karin, UN ambassador, of the Sacred Kingdom of Karianis. A pleasure to meet you." She laughs softly. "It's actually forbidden for me to drink, by the laws of my nation, but... What they can't see, they can't punish me for." She chuckles. "I imagine at least some of the others feel the same way. Besides, you've seen the UN Assembly. That's enough to drive even sane people to drink."

She lowers her voice, and adds, "Although why they let that lunatic cave man in here, I'll never understand..."

Hodz want to cook and eat Aran, Hodz do it himself. Glog not do. You do.

Strangers' Bar full of crazy people. Glog leave. Go back to cave.

"Oh, don't leave yet. Just ignore people. That's what we do," Wolfgang said as Kyle and IX nodded. "Thank you for the gift, but we're mostly vegetarians, other than the chickens raised in the Commonwealth, and that's only because they're engineered to want to be eaten and have the ability to say so. Incidentally, we're part reptilian, too."

"Oh, Carina was just looking for Carol and found the two of us here. She didn't order anything."

and having perfect timing the gnome carrying Carina's 100 proof Scotch appeared

"Here's your dri..."

Richard quickly grabbed it out of the gnome's hand and took a sip

"Why thank you." he looked over to Knut "They have fantastic service here, you have to have a drink." and took another sip

he hated scotch
Carina sat wide-eyed, really not over the fact that Knut had found her in the Stranger's Bar. Then she looked longingly for the drink on Richard's hand. She resisted the impulse to sneak a few sips, but she would be instantly caught with just a quick turn of her husband's head...

"Or so I hear from Carol... But I gather that they don't serve cow liquor here." Knut smiled and offered his hand for a shake. "By the way, I'm Dr. Knut Spicolli, the ambassador's husband."

Mother Cargaminh, who had heretofore been sitting unnoticed at a table (possibly reading a book, praying, sleeping, or whatever it is that a nun in full-length habits does when she is in a bar) perked up. The invisible sound of a married couple had reached her honed ears, and she rose elegantly and glided ( or glode, depending one where you come from) over to the Brut-Nordlandese.

"Ah! Ah! An expectant family, God be praised! Oh my dear, you look positively radiant! Ambassador, a pleasure. I daresay I've seen you office sign, but never your sign. A pleasure, a pleasure. I hope you won't mind if I steal your wife away for a moment. Do you enjoy orange juice? Neville, I hear, has a direct line to Tiki-Taki for all their exotic fruits. Fruits of the tree, not of the flesh, that is."

She laughed at her own joke.

"Fresh-squeezed! Good for the baby! Come dear, sit with me and let's have a talk over some delicious juice. Oh! An expectant mother! Oh, how wonderful, Gloria Patri, Gloria Patri."

Mother Cargamnih clucked and twittered, excited over the prospect of having someone to chat with.

Mother Cargaminh, who had heretofore been sitting unnoticed at a table (possibly reading a book, praying, sleeping, or whatever it is that a nun in full-length habits does when she is in a bar) perked up. The invisible sound of a married couple had reached her honed ears, and she rose elegantly and glided ( or glode, depending one where you come from) over to the Brut-Nordlandese.

"Ah! Ah! An expectant family, God be praised! Oh my dear, you look positively radiant! Ambassador, a pleasure. I daresay I've seen you office sign, but never your sign. A pleasure, a pleasure. I hope you won't mind if I steal your wife away for a moment. Do you enjoy orange juice? Neville, I hear, has a direct line to Tiki-Taki for all their exotic fruits. Fruits of the tree, not of the flesh, that is."

She laughed at her own joke.

"Fresh-squeezed! Good for the baby! Come dear, sit with me and let's have a talk over some delicious juice. Oh! An expectant mother! Oh, how wonderful, Gloria Patri, Gloria Patri."

Mother Cargamnih clucked and twittered, excited over the prospect of having someone to chat with.
Carina knew she wouldn't be able to have a drink as long as Knut was here. She looked to her side and saw a nun in a full-length habit walking towards her. Brought up Roman Catholic (as almost all Nord-Brutlandese are), she instantly developed an respect for the holy woman.

She invited her over to her table for some juice.

"Thank you mother," Carina replied. She then introduced herself. "I'm Carina Talchimio-Spicolli, Ambassador from Brutland and Norden... though right now I'm on a maternal leave."

Sir Albert paused mid stagger past the groovy chick in the black and white frock and Carina of Brutland and Norden.Being the polite chap that he is, he felt it only reet and proper that he dropped off some blue bahgumian rum for the ladies.
"ere tha goes lasses, one for you" and then looking at Carina putting two more glasses down " and a couple ere, seeing as tha's drinking for two now".

"That's okay," Horgen jokes half-heartedly. "Can you imagine how much I'm going to have to fork to pay for all these ambassadors to go on holiday at Gaia Beach Resort? Thank goodness for a minimal Arms budget."

Hmm...

Sir Bodsworth looks around the bar slowly.

Although, we might consider knocking out the side of the fountain out front and adding sand to make a beach...

His eyes pause as he passes a spider-creature, and again at Glog who is storming out of the bar over a row with a vaugely creepy man near the fireplace.

A minimal arms budget you say...?

Sir Bodsworth's eyes turn back to Ambassador Horgen, inquiringly.

Carina knew she wouldn't be able to have a drink as long as Knut was here. She looked to her side and saw a nun in a full-length habit walking towards her. Brought up Roman Catholic (as almost all Nord-Brutlandese are), she instantly developed an respect for the holy woman.

She invited her over to her table for some juice.

"Thank you mother," Carina replied. She then introduced herself. "I'm Carina Talchimio-Spicolli, Ambassador from Brutland and Norden... though right now I'm on a maternal leave."

The nun beamed. "It's a wonderful pleasure. Mother Superior Madeleine Cargaminh of St. Khesm's Abbey. Since we're Snefaldian Catholic we aren't really in communion with the Holy See, but I daresay we've got some of the same practices and services as the Roman Catholics. Do sit down, do sit down."

She beckoned Neville. "Two fresh-squeezed orange juices please, my dear! I would offer you some tea, Carina my child, but the caffeine is bad for the baby, and we can't have that. Now tell me, my dear- who is the father? I trust you've been married correctly before God?"

Amongst the unusually bookish heathen Arsathaes, a Snefaldian Catholic didn't get much chance to talk with someone of similar faith and practice. If she seemed overeager it was because she truly was; she hadn't had any nuns or parishioners to speak with on the requirements of faith in a long while, and really she just needed another woman to confide in. The only people she had were Shandreth whose nose was always in a book (and not the Good One), Grakh who was crude and mean, and the various interns and college-age office workers, who were generally sinful and rude.

The drinks arrived, and the nun smiled.

Carina sat wide-eyed, really not over the fact that Knut had found her in the Stranger's Bar. Then she looked longingly for the drink on Richard's hand. She resisted the impulse to sneak a few sips, but she would be instantly caught with just a quick turn of her husband's head...

"Or so I hear from Carol... But I gather that they don't serve cow liquor here." Knut smiled and offered his hand for a shake. "By the way, I'm Dr. Knut Spicolli, the ambassador's husband."

"Richard York, Cookeslandic UN Ambassador. Pleasure to meet you, i was just talking to your wife. Congratulations by the way." said Richard shaking Knut's hand."

"No, Aran taste like pig meat. Hodz taste like lava."

Dr. Hodz turns to Yuru. "Shut up." he says commandingly. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Yuru returns with an equally commanding tone, "First off, don't tell me to shut up. You tried to get Aran eaten, I tried to get you eaten. What goes around comes around. Second, what are you going to do? Shoot me? You'd better stop threatening people before I call UN security."

"I hold that the UN cannot have a security force, and therefore your idle threat is more idle than his!" Wolfgang jokingly called out, causing Kyle to giggle across the table.

"I wish people would check their attitudes at the door," the boy half-whispered.

Yuru returns with an equally commanding tone, "First off, don't tell me to shut up. You tried to get Aran eaten, I tried to get you eaten. What goes around comes around. Second, what are you going to do? Shoot me? You'd better stop threatening people before I call UN security."

"No, I'll do this," Dr. Hodz said, going up to Yuru and punching him in the face.

Dr. Hodz then walked out of the Bar and back to his office.

Alarmed at the punch, Kyle got up and went to the delegate and examined his face. "Er... you ok?" he asked, creating a medikit and opening it.

The Wolf Guardians;13076700']"Thank you for the gift, but we're mostly vegetarians, other than the chickens raised in the Commonwealth, and that's only because they're engineered to want to be eaten and have the ability to say so.
Chicken talk? This strange. Glog not know about talking chicken. Like to see them.
Incidentally, we're part reptilian, too."
Glog smell something not man, cat or wolf. Not know what is. Now Glog know. Sometimes Glog smell snake, but not much. Not smell other reptiles.

The Wolf Guardians;13077699']"I hold that the UN cannot have a security force, and therefore your idle threat is more idle than his!" Wolfgang jokingly called out, causing Kyle to giggle across the table.

"The UN may not have a security force, but I believe the UN Building does. Doesn't the Building Management call them the Maintence of Order Department?" Bob called out to Wolfgang.

Chicken talk? This strange. Glog not know about talking chicken. Like to see them.

Glog smell something not man, cat or wolf. Not know what is. Now Glog know. Sometimes Glog smell snake, but not much. Not smell other reptiles.

"I'll have to get a live one in for you. Beware, though. It'll beg you to eat it. Not that there's much reason not to. They taste wonderful," Wolfgang said, grinning as he indeed imagined a wonderful chicken sandwich.

"The UN may not have a security force, but I believe the UN Building does. Doesn't the Building Management call them the Maintence of Order Department?" Bob called out to Wolfgang.

"Joke, Bob. Just a joke."

"If they ever wanted supplemental soldiers for the building, though," IX stated, "the Guardians would be happy to do it."

Serifina takes the hand, shaking it briefly. "Lady Serifina Karin, UN ambassador, of the Sacred Kingdom of Karianis. A pleasure to meet you." She laughs softly. "It's actually forbidden for me to drink, by the laws of my nation, but... What they can't see, they can't punish me for." She chuckles. "I imagine at least some of the others feel the same way. Besides, you've seen the UN Assembly. That's enough to drive even sane people to drink."

She lowers her voice, and adds, "Although why they let that lunatic cave man in here, I'll never understand..."

"Seen, debated, tempted to bribe some of the delegates to go get psycharitic help to get reason; welcome to the UN," Alex smirked and pitched down his voice, "I don't understand it either, but I'm grateful he's in assembly, at least I know he's reasonably sane and I know what he's thinking. And do my eyes decieve me...there's a NUN here..?" He looks puzzled. "Must be a tough nun if she debates with the rest of us."

Serifina nods in response to Alex. "She is indeed. I've seen her around. Mind you, my country has plenty of nuns, being very religious, but... I steer clear of her. Just in case." She shakes her head, and laughs softly. "Welcome to the United Nations, Alex. I just hope you have an office."

The nun beamed. "It's a wonderful pleasure. Mother Superior Madeleine Cargaminh of St. Khesm's Abbey. Since we're Snefaldian Catholic we aren't really in communion with the Holy See, but I daresay we've got some of the same practices and services as the Roman Catholics. Do sit down, do sit down."

She beckoned Neville. "Two fresh-squeezed orange juices please, my dear! I would offer you some tea, Carina my child, but the caffeine is bad for the baby, and we can't have that. Now tell me, my dear- who is the father? I trust you've been married correctly before God?"

Amongst the unusually bookish heathen Arsathaes, a Snefaldian Catholic didn't get much chance to talk with someone of similar faith and practice. If she seemed overeager it was because she truly was; she hadn't had any nuns or parishioners to speak with on the requirements of faith in a long while, and really she just needed another woman to confide in. The only people she had were Shandreth whose nose was always in a book (and not the Good One), Grakh who was crude and mean, and the various interns and college-age office workers, who were generally sinful and rude.

The drinks arrived, and the nun smiled.
"It's nice to meet you, Mother Cargaminh," Carina sat down the table opposite the nun. The nun introduced her to Snefaldian Catholicism, and asked about her baby and her husband. "Yes, mother, Knut and I were married just before I was assigned here, and he's the father. We have known each other for a long time." Actually that was an understatement. They were together since they were toddlers. When they were seven and deep in those precocious feelings, she and Knut made a pact that they would marry each other someday... solemnized while sitting on the secluded swing set along the majestic Savona River. That creaky swing set was long gone, devoured by the elements and rust...

She got out of the trance, and took a sip of the fresh-squeezed orange juice. "I'm actually excited to see my babies," Carina said. And so I can drink alchohol!

There is no sensation quite akin to havin something sucked ut of one's body, and Courror was hardly accustomed to such a sensation to begin with. This, combined with the jarring shock of having his blood alcohol concentration instantly reduced to near-zero, was more than enough to set him off groaning once more, clutching his head and rocking on the small barstool like a man possessed as the world snapped into all-too-sharp focus around him. His sense of taste returning with a jarring crash, Courror ran his tongue around his dessicated mouth, momentarily relishing the comforting familiarity of its atrocious taste - a cross between an overfilled ashtray, an oil sump and an Albanian goatherder's three-weeks-old, unwashed loincloth - before remembering that it was, in fact, utterly vile and reaching for a discarded drink next to him to eradicate the taste. The result was hardly an improvement. Who the hellfire thought of mint-flavoured cola? Courror asked of himself as he swallowed shudderingly, though of course he was damned if he knew.

Haltingly he lifted his weary head, and trained his bloodshot, ill-controlled eyes on the shape that had just nodded in his general direction. The shape resolved with infuriating slowness, as though his brain were so used to inebriation that sobriety imparied its function, but managed eventually to assume a coherent form that he could recognise.

With a strange, almost detached relaxation, Courror nodded back towards the gigantic arachnid across the bar from him, smiling as though this was the most unremarkable thing in the world. Oh yes, I met another giant spider today. Nice fellow, as it happens. He's invited me round for some crushed fly-cakes tomorrow... It was quite an achievement for him, since though he was no arachnophobe it is generally quite hard to remain totally unperturned by the presence of such a creature, let alone one lazily sipping from a glass. Mercifully, before he could begin running through his more paranoid and frankly crazed explanations for the obvious wink the thing had just aimed at him, he was distracted by the arrival, appropriately, of another stranger, the clap on his back signalling that here was one of those individuals who was instantly ones best friend, no matter how unfamiliar one might be. He turned to Jawey, thumping a handy part of the bar in order to procure a drink, and smiled pleasantly, fishing about in his pocket for his cigarettes.

"No force, really. Not now." Courror finally found the packet, fished out the last, battered tube of poison, and lit the tip, exulting in the refreshing sensation as the nicotine spread through his system and set hit nerves tingling pleasurably. "Used to be Naval Aviation, in a nation for away from here. Flew big bombers, big six-engined buggers." He cracked a grin. "Almost as ugly as her, as you say."

"Richard York, Cookeslandic UN Ambassador. Pleasure to meet you, i was just talking to your wife. Congratulations by the way." said Richard shaking Knut's hand."
"Thank you," said Knut, and then added, "actually, we have been trying to have a baby for a long time... this'll be the first, and we are having babies to boot, and so we're very very careful." He looked wistfully at Richard. "I hope nothing bad happens to Carina and my children. I love them so much."

The Wolf Guardians;13077707']Alarmed at the punch, Kyle got up and went to the delegate and examined his face. "Er... you ok?" he asked, creating a medikit and opening it.
"Fine." Yuru spat, "I'm going to kill that man." He said through gritted teeth. He calmed down a bit and asked, "Was their not a UN security that apprehended the crazed raptor?"

"Fine." Yuru spat, "I'm going to kill that man." He said through gritted teeth. He calmed down a bit and asked, "Was their not a UN security that apprehended the crazed raptor?"

"'There,' not 'their,'" the boy said, rising to his full height and extending a hand towards the delegate to help him up. "And yes, I can hear your grammar. I thought the raptors just left on their own after all that nonsense."

"It's nice to meet you, Mother Cargaminh," Carina sat down the table opposite the nun. The nun introduced her to Snefaldian Catholicism, and asked about her baby and her husband. "Yes, mother, Knut and I were married just before I was assigned here, and he's the father. We have known each other for a long time." Actually that was an understatement. They were together since they were toddlers. When they were seven and deep in those precocious feelings, she and Knut made a pact that they would marry each other someday... solemnized while sitting on the secluded swing set along the majestic Savona River. That creaky swing set was long gone, devoured by the elements and rust...

She got out of the trance, and took a sip of the fresh-squeezed orange juice. "I'm actually excited to see my babies," Carina said. And so I can drink alchohol!

Madeleine nodded. "More than one! Oh, that's wonderful. Children are God's gift. I remember when I was young and beautiful..."

The Mother Superior looked wistfully at her glass of orange juice. "A young man promised to marry me, and I would have had noone else if I could choose. Oh, but then he went off to fight for the Unification... And never came back."

Madeleine lost her previously exuberant nature, quieting down as she talked about her past. "Oh God, I was inconsolable. My parents told me to find another, but I never could, I never could... and then, one day, while I cried, I heard the bells of the Abbey tolling. My family were quite devoted to Endiri- the spirit-worship native to Snefaldia- and regarded the Catholics as something unusual. But I walked down to the Abbey, heard the nuns singing, and oh, I felt such joy at hearing their beautiful singing I broke down and cried."

Madeleine looked up at Carina, smiling. "I joined the order that day. Christ's love filled my soul, and I felt at peace. That was nigh on 26 years ago..."

She perked up. "But oh, my dear, don't let me bother you with my life story. I am a servant of the Lord, that's all that matters. Tell me about yourself, tell me about Brutland and Norden!"

The Wolf Guardians;13079027']"'There,' not 'their,'" the boy said, rising to his full height and extending a hand towards the delegate to help him up. "And yes, I can hear your grammar. I thought the raptors just left on their own after all that nonsense."
"If it makes any difference to your memory, I believe the proper name is UN Building Security. Excuse me I have some payback to deal out." Yuru follows after Dr. Hodz.
ooc: Did I type their? oops! typo.

Walton Abbot walks into the bar. (OOC: Ouch/You'd think he would have seen it jokes are welcome.)

Wow, he thinks. I hope not everyone here is as loud, and occasionally ill-informed, as that lot in the debating chamber just now...

Looking around, he noticed the hallucination-crazed Representative Courror and the bloody-nosed Representative Yuru.

Perhaps not...

"I hear you sell alcoholic drinks here," he addresses the barman. "I'll have..."

At this moment, a childish glint appears in the delegate's eyes, and he continues with relish: "a beer!"

OOC: Hi, I've just created the persona of Walton Abbot, UN representative for the various Draenarian States (Grand Draenaria, Draenaristan and, when it gets resurrected, Lesser Draenaria). Grand Draenaria being the oppressive state that it is, he's kind of insulated from the corrupting wonders of the world, but I plan for him to become rather less so, if you get my drift...

Madeleine nodded. "More than one! Oh, that's wonderful. Children are God's gift. I remember when I was young and beautiful..."

The Mother Superior looked wistfully at her glass of orange juice. "A young man promised to marry me, and I would have had noone else if I could choose. Oh, but then he went off to fight for the Unification... And never came back."

Madeleine lost her previously exuberant nature, quieting down as she talked about her past. "Oh God, I was inconsolable. My parents told me to find another, but I never could, I never could... and then, one day, while I cried, I heard the bells of the Abbey tolling. My family were quite devoted to Endiri- the spirit-worship native to Snefaldia- and regarded the Catholics as something unusual. But I walked down to the Abbey, heard the nuns singing, and oh, I felt such joy at hearing their beautiful singing I broke down and cried."

Madeleine looked up at Carina, smiling. "I joined the order that day. Christ's love filled my soul, and I felt at peace. That was nigh on 26 years ago..."

She perked up. "But oh, my dear, don't let me bother you with my life story. I am a servant of the Lord, that's all that matters. Tell me about yourself, tell me about Brutland and Norden!"
As Mother Madeleine related her story, Carina's heart reached out for her. She kept solemnly silent, listening intently to the nun's story of how an irreparable heartbreak led her to become a nun and serve the Lord.

As she finished her story, Carina gave her an understanding smile and reached out to hold the nun's hand. She didn't know what to say, really. Mother Madeleine asked her about herself...

"Me?" She muttered. There was nothing in her life that really matched Mother Madeleine's story. "I'm just happy that Knut is here for me... he saved my life more than once." She rubbed her belly as it began to start that dull, diffuse pain again. "We were ten years old back then, and there was this pond in the woods behind our house. Knut and I liked to swim in that pond, especially during summertime when the water is cool... but my parents warned us that we should not go into the far side of the pond.

"I was chasing some ducks across the water when I found myself on the wrong side of the pond - on the deep end. Back then I did not know how to swim, and I started to drown. Knut was there, he was such a burly boy, and he pulled me out of the water just in time...

"My parents forbade me to swim in that pond again, me being their only daughter, but Knut would often sneak me out for a dip in that pond. My parents never knew, even now."

Three beautiful young women enter the bar,all of them tall, one blond,one brunette and the last a redhead.The three are all dressed in floor length dark dresses with high necked collars.They spot a table in a quiet corner and swoop into action.Soon the table has a white linen tablecloth on it. A laptop computer sits at the ready near a rather sizable stack of folders.The blonde walks to the bar and orders a bottle of Chivas and returns to the table.
Meanwhile the redhead has gone to the door of the bar and escorts a tall gentleman in his long brown hair tied back into a neat pony tail,a dark military cut jacket displaying an array of medals.
The three women fawn over him a bit as he sits down and speaks to them
'' Girls, girls,Thank you ever so much for setting things up so nicely. Now then be seated and most of all be quiet unless your spoken too. I've a lot of files to go over as you well know. Would one of you be so kind as to pour me a glass of Chivas."
the three women dive for the bottle at the same moment,after a brief but quiet struggle the brunette wins pouring a glass and passing it to the man. The other two let out exasperated sighs.
But Sir, the blond says glumly. Marese poured your drink the last time...Its so not fair and I broke a nail too. she pouts a bit.

Now then,young lady don't make me regret allowing you to come. I really have no time for your petty bickering.
He looks around the bar a bit recognizing a few familiar faces from the debate floor,nodding to each of them.He arches an eyebrow at the large strange creature sitting at the bar.He simply sits and listens to the various conversations before grabbing a folder and beginning to study it.

... They made their way towards the bar, and the hectoring deputy Nuncia was about to order some tea when she caught glimpse of Shelob sitting a few stools over. This, of course, sent the entire Kawaiian delegation screaming for the exits.

With the exception of the Nuncia herself, who smiled at the huge spider and said cheerfully, "Kumo-san! It's nice to see you again!" She walked over and took the stool next to the creature, nodding to Jimmy and adding, "Tea, please, barkeep-san. Oolong, if you have it.""Ah, Nunciassz, pleaszant surprizessz. Catgirlssz come back latersz? But you tellsz me firsszt how thingsz goessz."

After waving a tentacle toward Jimmy for a refill, the old spider takes a deck of cards from her thorax fold, shuffles them quite expertly,

"Crazzy eightssz?" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crazy_eights)

With a strange, almost detached relaxation, Courror nodded back towards the gigantic arachnid across the bar from him, smiling as though this was the most unremarkable thing in the world. ... "Used to be Naval Aviation, in a nation for away from here. Flew big bombers, big six-engined buggers." He cracked a grin. "Almost as ugly as her, as you say."

It was then that Shelob overheard the recently besotted one. Perhaps a paucity of public manners weren't linked to the level of blood alcohol content, she thought. Shelob preens, putting one leg beyond her head in the classic old-school movie star pose and displays her dorsal death's head.

"Ugliessz? I me nation considerssz Shelob rarest of beautiessz. Yousz, missingsz half legssz, pale of skinnsz and awkwardssz in treesz, youssz would be ugliesszt of allsz.

But friendssz, we can be. What drinkssz you he... on my tabssz?"

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

Serifina nods in response to Alex. "She is indeed. I've seen her around. Mind you, my country has plenty of nuns, being very religious, but... I steer clear of her. Just in case." She shakes her head, and laughs softly. "Welcome to the United Nations, Alex. I just hope you have an office."

"More of a broom closet, equipped with a desk and phone," Alex said thoughtly, "To be completely honest, Lady Serafina, I thought this would be a bunch of good ol' boys from their respective nations arguing dry and boring legislation...I didn't expect it to be nearly this violent or the debate to be so lively. And I'm shocked at the literacy rate of some of delegates. And with respect, your nation sounds...sort of restrictive compared to what I'm used to. Do you get along ok with some of the more...liberal delegates and nations?"

"More of a broom closet, equipped with a desk and phone," Alex said thoughtly, "To be completely honest, Lady Serafina, I thought this would be a bunch of good ol' boys from their respective nations arguing dry and boring legislation...I didn't expect it to be nearly this violent or the debate to be so lively. And I'm shocked at the literacy rate of some of delegates. And with respect, your nation sounds...sort of restrictive compared to what I'm used to. Do you get along ok with some of the more...liberal delegates and nations?"
Serifina laughs, and downs her drink, motioning for another. "Collect people from hundreds, or thousands, of different nations, and this is bound to be the eventual result. I haven't really ticked anyone off yet. At least, not that I've seen. And you're quite correct, my nation is very restrictive, all in he name of our faith, although I'm much more casual about things than most of our people.... Something my cousin constantly despairs of."

A minimal arms budget you say...?

Sir Bodsworth's eyes turn back to Ambassador Horgen, inquiringly.

Horgen had just realised how much he had said. After all, he didn't want it known that the Damanucan Emporer, Linard Skyre, preferred to sit down and discuss matters instead of blowing the s**t out of anyone who disagreed with him; he had already tried to expel one person from Parliament for doing such.

"Ermm..."

Horgen had just realised how much he had said. After all, he didn't want it known that the Damanucan Emporer, Linard Skyre, preferred to sit down and discuss matters instead of blowing the s**t out of anyone who disagreed with him; he had already tried to expel one person from Parliament for doing such.

"Ermm..."

Sir Bodsworth watched Horgen for several seconds before laughing and waving a hand in dismissal.

"I'm giving you a hard time, sir. We aren't in the business of attacking countries wantonly, and yours is a fair distance from ours. Besides, a minimal budget doesn't mean you can't defend yourself, it simply implies minimal offensive capabilities.

"Besides, I'm more interested in a good drink at the moment...all this violent behavior is killing the atmosphere."

Sir Bodsworth glances in the direction of the short altercation.

An insistent beeping in his pocket took Jawey's attention for a moment, followed by a loud expletive that would make even an ugly woman blush. "Sit jou kop in die koei se kont en wag tot die bul jou kom holnaai!"*

Slumping on the barstool beside Courror he waved a hand over to Jimmy. "A glass and buckets of ice please. And glasses to all those who say 'SAID' to you. I owe them a drink."
Taking the glass he filled it with ice then neat rum, knocking it back before refilling.


________________________
*Not suitable for the sensitive.

Ambassador Biddulph Strathfield of Twafflonia enters the Strangers' Bar, smiling politely. He makes his way to the bar and orders a bottle of porter.

ooc: Is the Brutland and Norden girl going to turn Aran down or what? Do anything but give him a response please.

Ikir Askanabath and Markus Paulanus marched up to the bar like men on a mission. "Two Eagle's Backbone Ales, please," Ikir asks Neville, while rubbing his forehead. "Did you want something to drink too, Markus? Just kidding..."

Markus simply snorted and took his beverage. "I didn't think you could handle more than one ale, kid," he snorts amusedly.

"Yeah, well, this place is going to make me learn all about becoming a drinker, especially if they make me the permanent ambassador. Jinella got off lucky, she only has to worry about people shooting at her," Ikir said wryly, taking a long gulp from his glass.

"Ah, Nunciassz, pleaszant surprizessz. Catgirlssz come back latersz? But you tellsz me firsszt how thingsz goessz."

After waving a tentacle toward Jimmy for a refill, the old spider takes a deck of cards from her thorax fold, shuffles them quite expertly,

"Crazzy eightssz?" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crazy_eights)

The Kawaiian NSUN Nuncia shrugged, looking sheepishly at Shelob and said, "Well...I guess they're busy. They seem to be working too hard; the last time I had them speechwriting for me I ended up sounding like a caveman."

She looks at the cards with interest, and says, "Crazy Eights? Sure! Er, with or without skips?"

The door to the bar swung open and a man obscured by a dark cloak walked in. He passed the patrons pausing only to bow to the shrine by the bar and he sat down. "A G39 please barkeep" he uttered with out revealing his face or removing his obscure garb. He placed 4 gold coins on the bar and waited for Neville to supply the beverage. He sat, face forward, rain drops falling from his cloak to the floor and paying no heed to the surroundings or the conversations of the patrons.

Neville placed his drink in front of the stranger and smiled. His curiosity regarding the man was nagging him but he said nothing. then the stranger spoke. his voice soft but firm. "Venerable Libertarians, are they still based on the 40th floor?

--snip--
OOC: Sorry, I kinda missed the post... (and reading again, I see I kinda missed Bahgum's post too... :headbang:)

Carol realized just now that Aran from the Yellow Sea Islands was asking her if he could buy her a drink. Admittedly, she's still too captivated with the Cookeslandic Ambassador (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=310853&page=400) that she had forgotten her surroundings.

She dillydallied for a moment, looking at Aran. He was handsome and seemingly nice, but not her type. However, she knew somebody who might be attracted to this type of guy.

"No, thanks," she said bravely. It wasn't her habit to reject advances, and that usually brought her into trouble. "But I'm happy to be your acquaintance. I'm Carolina Entelbucco." She then gives him a seductive smile (it comes on naturally.) She then introduces him to her companions. "By the way, this is Dr. Knut Spicolli, the ambassador's husband, and Richard York, the Cookeslandic Ambassador."

ooc: realization: getting rejected by a girl is hard, and I have to say, RPing a girl rejecting somebody is equally hard too!

"Venerable Libertarians, are they still based on the 40th floor?
Aüþgæþ Spøtyiú overhears the cloaked stranger and walks over.

"Why, yes. Yes they are. The office is still staffed, but many of the familiar faces are no longer around. If you like I could contact them for you. Who may I say is inquiring?"

Serifina laughs, and downs her drink, motioning for another. "Collect people from hundreds, or thousands, of different nations, and this is bound to be the eventual result. I haven't really ticked anyone off yet. At least, not that I've seen. And you're quite correct, my nation is very restrictive, all in he name of our faith, although I'm much more casual about things than most of our people.... Something my cousin constantly despairs of."

"Your cousin's loss is our gain, Lady Serifina," Alex smiled, ordering another gimlet, having drained his. "I mean, rather the UN. But, I'm sure you didn't want to talk delegation business, considering alliances here shift with the tide. After been a lawyer and what you might call a reasonably outspoken politician, our prime minster assigned me to Secretary of Foreign Affairs, which includes this place. And recently, another bill got shot down in the resolution hall." He indicates Jawey. "Poor guy. I liked his bill too. It made sense. And here I am talking about politics again."

"Your cousin's loss is our gain, Lady Serifina," Alex smiled, ordering another gimlet, having drained his. "I mean, rather the UN. But, I'm sure you didn't want to talk delegation business, considering alliances here shift with the tide. After been a lawyer and what you might call a reasonably outspoken politician, our prime minster assigned me to Secretary of Foreign Affairs, which includes this place. And recently, another bill got shot down in the resolution hall." He indicates Jawey. "Poor guy. I liked his bill too. It made sense. And here I am talking about politics again."

Serifina waves a hand in an idle, dismissive manner. "Please, just Serifina. At least here in the bar, I'd prefer not to deal with titles. Or even just 'Seri', if you'd prefer." She picks up her new drink, and sips it. "We ended up voting for his bill, too. Ah, well. Such is the nature of this body - too many people vote against something without really reading or understanding it. I believe they're often called ReadNothings. If things were simply left up to those of us who properly participate in the UN, things might be a bit different."

Serifina gives Alex a faint grin. "We're here in a political building, taking a brief break from active political debating. Politics are what we live for. I don't mind a little political discussion. As long as you don't try to draw me into one of the nastier debates." She winks, then sips her alcohol again.

OOC: Sorry, I kinda missed the post... (and reading again, I see I kinda missed Bahgum's post too... :headbang:)

Carol realized just now that Aran from the Yellow Sea Islands was asking her if he could buy her a drink. Admittedly, she's still too captivated with the Cookeslandic Ambassador (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=310853&page=400) that she had forgotten her surroundings.

She dillydallied for a moment, looking at Aran. He was handsome and seemingly nice, but not her type. However, she knew somebody who might be attracted to this type of guy.

"No, thanks," she said bravely. It wasn't her habit to reject advances, and that usually brought her into trouble. "But I'm happy to be your acquaintance. I'm Carolina Entelbucco." She then gives him a seductive smile (it comes on naturally.) She then introduces him to her companions. "By the way, this is Dr. Knut Spicolli, the ambassador's husband, and Richard York, the Cookeslandic Ambassador."

ooc: realization: getting rejected by a girl is hard, and I have to say, RPing a girl rejecting somebody is equally hard too!

"Oh. Alright." He said disapointed. Why was she smiling at him like that? She must be teasing him now. "A pleasure to meet you both." He says to the two men. "Mr. Namari has told me of you Mr. York your pretty well known around here." Aran looks over at another table and sees a military looking man being fauned over by three very pretty young women. "Will you excuse me please." He says. "It really was a pleasure to meet you two." He then proceeds to the table with the three lovely assistants.

It hadn't taken many glasses of rum to make Jawey completely drunk. What was more surprising is that it had happened before the guy next to him had even said anything.
With that strange feeling in his ears, that you see only in books when someone is talking about you, Jawey spotted an arm gesture from Ghostlin's ambassador. Raising his glass towards the pair obviously discussing him, he downed the next glass too. "'Ere's tah pohliteeks! And every tweet tha' gits tangaled een et!"

Strathfield gets his drink and retreats to a corner table to enjoy it.

Sir Albert watches befuddled, "odd chap, i'd rather enjoy my drink than a corner table".

Strathfield proceeds to thoroughly enjoy his corner table. :p

Aran was sure at least one of these girls would accept his offer of drinks. He was average height with sand colored hair and was often told he had a good face and he spoke with a kind of inextinguishable energy. The uniformed ambassador was busy on his laptop and hadn't noticed the young man stop at his table. "Would any of you girls accept a drink on me?" He said, addressing them in as suave a way as he could.

Strathfield proceeds to thoroughly enjoy his corner table. :p

Violet eyes the Twafflonian uneasily. Sure, he looks happy enough, but there's nothing as dangerous as a cornered rep.:D

Sir Bodsworth watched Horgen for several seconds before laughing and waving a hand in dismissal.

"I'm giving you a hard time, sir. We aren't in the business of attacking countries wantonly, and yours is a fair distance from ours. Besides, a minimal budget doesn't mean you can't defend yourself, it simply implies minimal offensive capabilities.

"Besides, I'm more interested in a good drink at the moment...all this violent behavior is killing the atmosphere."

Sir Bodsworth glances in the direction of the short altercation.

After witnessing the last of the fight occur, and mostly the aftereffects, he took another swig of the beer, which he had realised was now starting to warm up. The scene was as good a reason as to why he never came here until now.

"I think I'd better start srting out those resort cabins for everyone," he said to his new drinking partner Sir Bodsworth, as he removed a phone from his pocket. "Would you excuse me for a couple of seconds?"

He stepped outside the bar and called...

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

Linard leaned over to his phone again from his bed. It was 2am, when all good Damanucans should've been in bed, and his phone was beeping its handset off.

"Yes?" he said, sounding like he had been hit by a hit-and-run rickshaw driver.

"It's Horgen, sir," Horgen mentioned down the line.

"Do you know what time it is, Horgen? I was getting some well earned sleep."

"I'm sorry Sir, I was wondering if you would be able to allocate some of the government surplus for a couple of nights for members of the UN to holiday at Gaia Beach Resort?"

"Is that all!? It could've waited until morning, couldn't it?" A long pause held over the line, before the Emporer continued. "Okay, I'll arrange it in the morning."

"Thank you Sir," was the last thing Horgen said before he heard the familiar click of a hung-up phone. Walking back into the bar, he proceeded to the table, but instead of sitting at it, he climbed upon and stood on top of it. This'll surprise them, he thought.

"Friends, Representatives, Ambassadors, lend me your ears." He realised how bad a start that was, and how much worse it could've been had he been hit with a bag of said body parts. "I ask of those who opposed the UNID Card Act and are willing to accept the free stay at Gaia Beach Resort in Ferbenere"--or at least sober enough to accept it, he thought--"to make your reservations now."

(OOC: I'm beginning to think I may have to start up a thread or three for plots done within the hotels' walls. Does anyone else think it's a good/bad idea?)

Horgen Dush
UN Representative, Nomadic Peoples of Damanucus

As Mother Madeleine related her story, Carina's heart reached out for her. She kept solemnly silent, listening intently to the nun's story of how an irreparable heartbreak led her to become a nun and serve the Lord.

As she finished her story, Carina gave her an understanding smile and reached out to hold the nun's hand. She didn't know what to say, really. Mother Madeleine asked her about herself...

"Me?" She muttered. There was nothing in her life that really matched Mother Madeleine's story. "I'm just happy that Knut is here for me... he saved my life more than once." She rubbed her belly as it began to start that dull, diffuse pain again. "We were ten years old back then, and there was this pond in the woods behind our house. Knut and I liked to swim in that pond, especially during summertime when the water is cool... but my parents warned us that we should not go into the far side of the pond.

"I was chasing some ducks across the water when I found myself on the wrong side of the pond - on the deep end. Back then I did not know how to swim, and I started to drown. Knut was there, he was such a burly boy, and he pulled me out of the water just in time...

"My parents forbade me to swim in that pond again, me being their only daughter, but Knut would often sneak me out for a dip in that pond. My parents never knew, even now."

Madeleine chuckled. "I should reprimand you for disobedience, but what little girl hasn't broken her parent's wishes when it comes to love? The Lord God smiles upon those who love each other and pledge to that love before Christ and all the Saints. Your devotion has given you the gift of children. It is God's Grace that gives us strength."

She took a drink of her orange juice. Ambassador Shandreth, sans dalmatic, entered the bar and headed toward the table.

"Mother Superior- ah, perdono, Signorina. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He beamed at Carina.

Yet it must have the option of a golf course. I get more done some days in nine holes than I get done in a week. With the properly fortified caddie of course.

"Oh. Alright." He said disapointed. Why was she smiling at him like that? She must be teasing him now. "A pleasure to meet you both." He says to the two men. "Mr. Namari has told me of you Mr. York your pretty well known around here." Aran looks over at another table and sees a military looking man being fauned over by three very pretty young women. "Will you excuse me please." He says. "It really was a pleasure to meet you two." He then proceeds to the table with the three lovely assistants.

"Oh why thank you, nice to meet you." said Richard and then leaned over to Carol and asked "Umm who was that?"

This is the awsomest (if that's a word) idea ever! We should so do it!!!!

"Thank you Sir," was the last thing Horgen said before he heard the familiar click of a hung-up phone. Walking back into the bar, he proceeded to the table, but instead of sitting at it, he climbed upon and stood on top of it. This'll surprise them, he thought.

"Friends, Representatives, Ambassadors, lend me your ears." He realised how bad a start that was, and how much worse it could've been had he been hit with a bag of said body parts. "I ask of those who opposed the UNID Card Act and are willing to accept the free stay at Gaia Beach Resort in Ferbenere"--or at least sober enough to accept it, he thought--"to make your reservations now."

(OOC: I'm beginning to think I may have to start up a thread or three for plots done within the hotels' walls. Does anyone else think it's a good/bad idea?)

Horgen Dush
UN Representative, Nomadic Peoples of Damanucus

Ambassador Biddulph Strathfield looks up from his table and his porter and smiles a little tiredly. He stands and walks over to the Damanucus representative.

"Ferbenere, eh? I suppose I could let my assistant ambassador into the General Assembly to keep an eye on the den of vipers for a while..."

Gunther looks up from his papers at the mention of a resort vacation. All three of his wives bounce around excitedly.

My good man,I do believe I was highly outraged by the UNID card act and was quite vocal in my opposition. My three wives and I will most definitely take you up on your offer.
With that he looks at his wives and nods. They all shout "Huzzah!!" then fall silent once more.
Ever so well trained I must say.

Sir Bodsworth shakes his head at Horgen's audacity and quietly slips him a drink and a sheet of paper.

"You're going to need this," he adds with a chuckle.

Madeleine chuckled. "I should reprimand you for disobedience, but what little girl hasn't broken her parent's wishes when it comes to love? The Lord God smiles upon those who love each other and pledge to that love before Christ and all the Saints. Your devotion has given you the gift of children. It is God's Grace that gives us strength."

She took a drink of her orange juice. Ambassador Shandreth, sans dalmatic, entered the bar and headed toward the table.

"Mother Superior- ah, perdono, Signorina. I don't believe we've been properly introduced." He beamed at Carina.
Carina smiled at the newcomer. "Carina Talchimio-Spicolli, Ambassador from Brutland and Norden. Nice to meet you -?"

"Oh why thank you, nice to meet you." said Richard and then leaned over to Carol and asked "Umm who was that?"
"Erm, I don't know," Carol whispered. "Aran... I think. I think he's an ambassador from somewhere. He wanted to buy me one, but I refused."

Gunther looks up from his papers at the mention of a resort vacation. All three of his wives bounce around excitedly.

My good man,I do believe I was highly outraged by the UNID card act and was quite vocal in my opposition. My three wives and I will most definitely take you up on your offer.
With that he looks at his wives and nods. They all shout "Huzzah!!" then fall silent once more.
Ever so well trained I must say.

Aran having heard that these were the man's wives. Hurriedly slunk away from his table, muttering apologies to the three women. He had a feeling that some one wasn't going to let him forget this.

ooc: Not a cue but you can mock him if you like. Aran's an intern not an ambassador by the way.

Carina smiled at the newcomer. "Carina Talchimio-Spicolli, Ambassador from Brutland and Norden. Nice to meet you -?"

"Harmalan Shandreth, ambassador from Snefaldia. The reverend mother is part of my staff. It is a pleasure to meet a colleague; I'm afraid I don't know much about the other delegations at the moment- only those foolish ones who rambled on during the last debate."

He paused, adjusting his ever-shifting pince nez.

"Brutland and Norden, ah? It sounds quite wonderful... there's quite an eloquent ring to the name, I must say." he seemed to drift off, and Mother Cargaminh poked him in the ribs. "Ah! Well, yes. It's my pleasure, my pleasure. May I?" he motioned to the chair.

"Harmalan Shandreth, ambassador from Snefaldia. The reverend mother is part of my staff. It is a pleasure to meet a colleague; I'm afraid I don't know much about the other delegations at the moment- only those foolish ones who rambled on during the last debate."

He paused, adjusting his ever-shifting pince nez.

"Brutland and Norden, ah? It sounds quite wonderful... there's quite an eloquent ring to the name, I must say." he seemed to drift off, and Mother Cargaminh poked him in the ribs. "Ah! Well, yes. It's my pleasure, my pleasure. May I?" he motioned to the chair.
"Sure, sure," Carina said, gesturing for the Snefaldian Ambassador to take the seat. "Well, technically, I'm on a maternal leave... so I'm not that active in representing the country. Actually I can, only that Knut, my husband, doesn't want me to work that much. Fortunately I have my staff to help me. Perhaps you've heard of Kyle di Fontana... that nice crazy teenager I sent to the General Assembly?"

"Sure, sure," Carina said, gesturing for the Snefaldian Ambassador to take the seat. "Well, technically, I'm on a maternal leave... so I'm not that active in representing the country. Actually I can, only that Knut, my husband, doesn't want me to work that much. Fortunately I have my staff to help me. Perhaps you've heard of Kyle di Fontana... that nice crazy teenager I sent to the General Assembly?"

Shandreth chuckled. "Oh yes, that young man is quite interesting. I hope he doesn't go insane from his time here in the General Assembly... I've only been here a few weeks and I'm already feeling quite mad."

"Tell me, Signora, what drew you to the diplomatic theatre?"

Aran decided to give it a rest for a while. All of the girls were either taken, not his age or not interested. He sits down next to the spider. "I'll take a pint of Seagull Ale if you have it bar keep." He says. He turns to the spider and catgirl who appear to be playing cards. "Can I join the next hand?" He asks, thinking to himself, "If I can't get a date I might as well do some thing, and how often does one play cards with a spider and a girl in a cat suit?"

Shandreth chuckled. "Oh yes, that young man is quite interesting. I hope he doesn't go insane from his time here in the General Assembly... I've only been here a few weeks and I'm already feeling quite mad."

"Tell me, Signora, what drew you to the diplomatic theatre?"
"Ah no, that kid is already insane," Carina remarked. "We figured that he'd fit in the General Assembly..."

"How was I drawn to being a diplomat?" Carina thought for a moment, suppressing a wince from the pelvic pains. "Hmmm... We Nord-Brutlandese are actually inward-looking people. We didn't bother with other nations... until recently. I did not even know how to speak English until college, we didn't have any utility for it.

"But when I was little I dreamt of going to far-away places. I liked that idea. So when I heard that they were looking for people to send abroad, I jumped at the opportunity. I was assigned first to the Permanent Mission of the United Kingdom of Brutland and Norden to the South Pacific. When I was transferred here, I went home first, married Knut, and we went here. Admittedly, my first days here were traumatic too... fortunately there was Knut - he kept me sane." She glanced at her husband on the bar, still talking to the Cookeslandic Ambassador. "How about you, Ambassador Shandreth, why did you say that this place's making you mad?"

'they let mad peaople in here? By eck, best keep a watch out, they might bother me ferrets', exclaimed a worried Sir Albert, whilst rolling his flat cap back up his arm and flicking it with his shoulder on top of his head. He sighed, took a gulp of ale and returned to practicing balancing a blob of beer froth on his upper lip.

The Kawaiian NSUN Nuncia shrugged, looking sheepishly at Shelob and said, "Well...I guess they're busy. They seem to be working too hard; the last time I had them speechwriting for me I ended up sounding like a caveman."

She looks at the cards with interest, and says, "Crazy Eights? Sure! Er, with or without skips?""Skipssz on twossz and eightssz only. Wagersz on handssz or gamessz?" Shelob replied as she deftly dealt cards with her third and fourth legs while pulling a cinnamon hot sucker out of her thorax fold and opening it with her first and second.

"Wantsz one? I me stopsz smokingsz. Or triesz. Lovessz tobaccosz I me doesz. But spiraclesz getsz all stickysz. Hmm, talksz like cavemanssz you sayssz? Seemssz sillyssz for pretty Nunciasz."

Catching sight of Sir Albert, Shelob chuckles deeply. "Talentssz that one hassz."

Turning up a 7 of clubs, her spideryness settled into her game stance, eyes peering carefully over her cards fanned out between two tentacles with the sucker lodged firmly in her maw.

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

In the distant skies of some distant planet drifting in some distant galaxy, as creatures as alien to our eyes as we would be to theirs look up in awe and terror, one by one ... the stars are aligned. On Earth, the doors of the Stranger's Bar swing open, and a man enters.

He is tall and gaunt and of indeterminate age, his skin not wrinkled but rather stretched taut, in a way, across the planes of his skull, allowing the sharp ridges of brow and cheekbone and nose and jaw to protrude. His mouth is a horizontal slash; his eyes are glittering points recessed in their sockets, hidden behind tiny, fussy glasses. His grey hair is receding from his forehead, and he is very pale.

"Well," he says - and somehow his voice, soft and sibilant as cobwebs, manages to inject a freight of malice into that cheerful word - "Now that you have arranged my office satisfactorily, young master Keary ... this is your office." He waves an arm to indicate the entirety of the bar.

Standing behind him is a young man in a carefully ironed shirt and waistcoat. Unlike his elder, young master Keary does not deserve so florid a description - he is, in fact, nondescript. Brown hair, brown eyes, an average build and an average face. On his face a perpetual look of slightly harried woe is shifting to a dawning look of panicked woe.

"I'm informed that some delegations" - and the contempt dripping from that qualifier makes it clear that the High Kingdom's is not among them - "Have their offices squeezed into the air ducts! So you are quite lucky, master Keary! Do not forget it!"

Keary is staring at the giant spider, his expression shifting from panicked woe to woeful panic. He is thinking that an air duct might perhaps be more amenable. He mutters something that might be "Yes, Mister Parr."

The older man leads the way to the bar, stepping briskly and precisely around slumbering delegates and religious pilgrims. Keary follows.

"Good afternoon, barkeep!" Mister Parr's smile is clearly meant to be cheery but appears sharklike, as pale lips draw back from bloodless gums. His teeth are very white. "Young master Keary here is an officially sanctioned representative of the High Kingdom of the Citadel and of Guinerré-in-Exile, to represent Her Majesty in this august establishment when his other duties permit. He will have whatever you deem suitable.

"I am Gideon Parr, economic advisor and legal attaché to His Excellency Lord Galen Serrault, Viscount Evrehan. I shall have your best glass of Gahr Shan Ullachté."

Gahr Shan Ullachté! The hooch of Hell, the tipple of Tartarus, a drink reputed to be able to lay low the quick and to usher up the dead! Declared anathema by seventeen major faiths, and used as a witchcraft trial by fifteen more! They say that in days of yore Mortimer Brown sold his soul to the Devil for the recipe, and that the Gods whelmed proud Atlantis to prevent him brewing it ... and that the Devil would not accept defeat, but sent Brown back up to ply his wares among the living. They say a lot of things, and I dare say not half of them are true; but it is true that it is served, very occasionally, in thimble-sized glasses, to discerning gentlemen in very private clubs, or at the deathbeds of kings.

This is what Gideon Parr has just ordered; but the hundred-Elt notes his spidery fingers deposit on the bar-top are crisp and fresh, and his smile suddenly looks very predatory indeed.

Courror obligingly raised his full glass, slopping a large quantity of some nameless dark beer across the bar.

“To politics,aye!” He downed part of the glass and slammed it back down with a satisfied “waaaaargh”, wiping the foam from his upper lip with a stained sleeve. “An’ every fool as gets involved in it; to them too.” He glanced over at Jawey, noting his alarming state of inebriation with surprise; how had the man managed to get that pissed that fast? What on earth had he been drinking? A part of his mind – the bit that he tended to ignore – observed that asking such a question was utterly futile; the bar was abundantly capable of supplying any drink from Archers’ to absinthe, but he suspected that the staff were much too discreet to tell anyone what anyone drank, let alone how fast or often.

“’scuse me, mate,” he said amiably, clapping Jawey on the shoulder with a calloused hand and turning to the colossal talking spider (which he had by now accepted as being as normal as anything could be in this insane asylum at the boundaries of reality).

“If you’re offering, I’ll have a mild and bitter!” he bellowed, and grinned, and turned back to Jawey. “Whereabouts’re you from, anyway, mate?” He asked the question without much confidence; Jawey was pretty far gone and getting far gonner by the minute.

Ambassador Douglas Smith from Scotchpinestan entered the bar. He had never set foot in the UN Strangers' Bar before. But, after having been away on personal business, he had returned to the UN to find that the Spelling Alphabet and ID Codes Act had failed. So, naturally, he was in a celebratory mood, so he decided this was as good an excuse as any to check out the bar.

He tread carefully, not knowing who he might run into. Not recognizing anyone immediately, he sat down at the bar, ordered a SoCo and orange juice, and waited for the action to start.

Wolfgang, almost-slumbering but for his frolicking in the electronic world, snorted briefly and looked about, speaking quietly. "You'd think it was... uh... whatsitcalled..." He snapped his fingers as he did some almost instantaneous research. "Halloween."

Kyle, equally tranquil, absently said, "32 days. Then we all get to go blackmail the RL dimension for free goodies."

Spock walked into the bar and looked around.

He saw the spider and stared at it with an emotionless face. He walked away, with an aura about him that suggested "Well, whatever."

He took a seat at the Guardian's table and ordered a Romulan Ale.

“Whereabouts’re you from, anyway, mate?” He asked the question without much confidence; Jawey was pretty far gone and getting far gonner by the minute.

Steadying himself against the bar Jawey gestured wildly while attempting to put his shoulder's back. "Ah ahm fhrum Ze Gahffahn Terrortohreez ahv Kahnya, Mazzahya, Rahveer, Jahrveedeean, Fehltam, Kreevstone, Pooleeteetee, Brahndsthoyn, Avetweeleeya, Sooflehy, Hooelymootta ahn Wahzingdohn!" Taking another glass-full of rum Jawey grinned. "Wahnt meh tuh zeeng meh anzem?"

Hi all I am Queen Tia Kingston from the TAIJITU region.
Would just like to say Hello to every one.
Would any any one be able to give me some pointers on how to put a proposal together, as I am new to being a Queen and i do wish to let my people down.
Thank you for your time the next round is on me,
Queen Tia Kingston :)

Fresh from his speech to the General Assembly (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13094641&postcount=19), Professor Pierre-Jean Antoine Delormebleu walked into the Strangers' Bar for the first time. He smiled a rather odd smile, nodded to himself, muttering quietly, and went to the bar.

"Lemon juice liquor, please," he asked, and turned to the person next to him, keen to make friends. "Good evening. Would you care for a marzipan baby?"

http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/2781/marzipanbabieszm5.png http://img249.imageshack.us/img249/4798/marzipanbabycf6.png

Fresh from his speech to the General Assembly (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13094641&postcount=19), Professor Pierre-Jean Antoine Delormebleu walked into the Strangers' Bar for the first time. He smiled a rather odd smile, nodded to himself, muttering quietly, and went to the bar.

"Lemon juice liquor, please," he asked, and turned to the person next to him, keen to make friends. "Good evening. Would you care for a marzipan baby?"

Spock went up to Delormebleu and looked at the Marzipan babies in his hand.

"Were I human, I would be disgusted. However, I'm not human." he said, taking one and eating it.

"I complement you on your lecture, good sir. Very... informing."

"I am Gideon Parr, economic advisor and legal attaché to His Excellency Lord Galen Serrault, Viscount Evrehan. I shall have your best glass of Gahr Shan Ullachté."Recognizing a fellow traveler on the Roads of Chaos, Shelob nods her head in professional courtesy toward Gideon Parr.

"Mister Parrsz, welcomesz to the sanctuarysz of the Bar. Young Mister Kearysz, deszpite looking tastysz, hasz no need to fearsz. In here."


Hearing Courror accept her offer of a drink, the ancient one lifted her own in salute, then angled her arachnid head toward the recently arrived Ariddian. Considering the marzipan infants with absorption, her scent hairs trembling, she lamented, "cutesz, butsz they don't smell tastysz."

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

Spock went up to Delormebleu and looked at the Marzipan babies in his hand.

"Were I human, I would be disgusted. However, I'm not human." he said, taking one and eating it.

"I complement you on your lecture, good sir. Very... informing."

"Thank you," Delormebleu said, beaming. "It seemed a shame to abandon the General Assembly to its timewaster. And that's a topic few people know much about." He looked at Shelob. "Alas, they may fool the eye, but not the discerning sense of scent."

He munched on a marzipan baby thoughtfully.

Biddulph Strathfield returns to his seat near the corner and sips his porter thoughtfully while reading a popular Cookeslandic newspaper.

'timewasters' muses Sir Albert, then smiles, reminding hisself while pouring a rather large Bahgumian Blue Brandy that 'time wasted', is not 'time wasted' at all. Then leaning back, gargling with the almost neat alcohol, chuckles at the double meanings to be found in language.

Spock returned to his table with the Guardians, and pulled out a small screen, reading it.

He sipped some Romulan ale.

"By hand, I think," the Nuncia said. "I'd like to get a feel for your skill as an opponent before making the game more complex," she added with the satisified smile of the best card-player in the Kawaiian NSUN Nunciate. She looked at her hand, her poker face concealing her disappointment...it was not a fortuitous combination of cards, but perhaps workable. Laying a Queen of clubs down over the 7, she nodded.

As she waited for Shelob's response, the Nuncia's attention was drawn to Professor Delormeblue, who seem to be offering candy babies to everyone at the bar. Furrowing her brow a little, she said, "But the Day of the Dead isn't for another month, sir, and really--I may be young but I've long since outgrown dressing up like a raven and threatening to eat my grandparents (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Kawaiian_Calendars#Meanings_of_the_Festivals)."

As she waited for Shelob's response, the Nuncia's attention was drawn to Professor Delormeblue, who seem to be offering candy babies to everyone at the bar. Furrowing her brow a little, she said, "But the Day of the Dead isn't for another month, sir, and really--I may be young but I've long since outgrown dressing up like a raven and threatening to eat my grandparents (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Kawaiian_Calendars#Meanings_of_the_Festivals)."

Delormebleu (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Pierre-Jean_Delormebleu)'s face lit up. He adjusted his glasses excitedly.

"I do believe I've heard of that most intriguing practice, yes! You must be Kawaiian. Delighted, I'm sure. Most delighted. Day of the Dead celebrations would liven up the General Assembly. Mais vous voyez, ces petits bonbons... You must try one." He extended a marzipan baby towards her politely. "They're for all ages, really. Well, perhaps not babies. That would be odd." He frowned thoughtfully, muttering to himself inaudibly. Those nearby were able to hear "...babies...woodlice...hot air balloons... most unusual..."

Fresh from his speech to the General Assembly (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13094641&postcount=19), Professor Pierre-Jean Antoine Delormebleu walked into the Strangers' Bar for the first time. He smiled a rather odd smile, nodded to himself, muttering quietly, and went to the bar.

"Lemon juice liquor, please," he asked, and turned to the person next to him, keen to make friends. "Good evening. Would you care for a marzipan baby?"


"Ugh, that's digusting." remarked Richard apon seeing the marzipan babies

"Ugh, that's digusting." remarked Richard apon seeing the marzipan babies

Delormebleu peered at him reproachfully through his glasses.

"I sense you have a closed mind," he commented placidly, then dipped a baby into his lemon juice liquor and bit its head off, chewing contemplatively.

Delormebleu peered at him reproachfully through his glasses.

"I sense you have a closed mind," he commented placidly, then dipped a baby into his lemon juice liquor and bit its head off, chewing contemplatively.

"There are some who would call it that, i just happen to find eating babies in candy form, or any form for that matter, rather revolting."

"I just happen to find eating babies in candy form, or any form for that matter, rather revolting."“Butsz tastysz,” Shelob leered jokingly, or perhaps not, at the one called York. Then realizing the double meaning, the old one laughed out loud, “well maybe not the buttsz.”

Her attention back on the cards in her tentacles, Shelob studied her opponent's inscrutable face.

“Of course, Nunciasz. We savesz complicated gamesz for laterssz,” the spider replied while playing a Queen of hearts. “Day of the Deadsz soundsz interestingsz. I me nationsz hassz no such thingsz. Perhapsz we celebratesz such every dayssz. Ifsz your grandsz not givesz you candyssz, do you she really eatsz them?”

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

"Bar keep put two in the glass and add more to keep them in; no ice. Did anyone ever tell you that you look like my mother-in-law only more hair and bluer eyes. Bet you and her would get along just fine. Are you married if not are you looking.. My mother in law is single now and looking fine.. Well got to go home if not on time my diner will be chared to where even the dog won't eat it..." belts down drink and pays tab then leaves..

Fresh from his speech to the General Assembly (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13094641&postcount=19), Professor Pierre-Jean Antoine Delormebleu walked into the Strangers' Bar for the first time. He smiled a rather odd smile, nodded to himself, muttering quietly, and went to the bar.

"Lemon juice liquor, please," he asked, and turned to the person next to him, keen to make friends. "Good evening. Would you care for a marzipan baby?"

http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/2781/marzipanbabieszm5.th.png http://img249.imageshack.us/img249/4798/marzipanbabycf6.th.png
Heavily pregnant Nord-Brutlandese Ambassador Carina Talchimio-Spicolli, seated with the Snefaldian delegation, noticed the sweets the Ariddian was offering. Though she had a sweet tooth, she found the treats rather revolting... whoever had that idea surely had a bad taste. She'd never find herself eating those even if it was made of the finest marzipan in the entire multiverse...

Just then, a teenage boy came in, scanned the room, and immediately paced towards Carina.

"Kyle! What are you doing here?" Ambassador Spicolli was pleasantly surprised to see Kyle di Fontana (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Kyle_di_Fontana) in the Stranger's Bar, especially after she'd just talked about him (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13089483&postcount=6661).
"You know very well that I can legally drink in Brutland," the boy reminded her.
"Well, you didn't came here to drink, did you?" She gave him the evil eye. "Don't say - "
Di Fontana laughed. "No, not the drink... I'm leaving this place, the UN."
Ambassador Talchimio-Spicolli's eyes widened. "What?! You're leaving? To where? Do you know what will happen to you when - "
"Deputy Foreign Minister Montòccegliano is transferring me to the Federal Republic of Omigodtheykilledkenny."
"As?"
"Uh... Ambassador..."
"Oh I'm so happy for you!" She pulled him down by his hoodie to hug him tight. Finally, for the first time in his life, he can finally go out of this place called the UN. But soon, her happiness evaporated with the realization. "We'll miss you, son," she said, releasing him from the embrace.
"Me too." He suppressed tears from welling in his eyes. He had known nothing else but the UN, and he had become close with most of the people in the Nord-Brutlandese delegation.
"So... when are you leaving?"
"Actually, right now... I dropped by to say goodbye... I gotta go." He then started to leave.
Carina felt sad. "Take care..."
He looked back at his former boss. "Send me pics of your babies."
"Will do," she said, and then mustered enough happiness to smile, "and don't get into any trouble."
"Yes, ma'am," he gave her a salute, and then left.

Sir Bodsworth was happily enjoying his drink when an aide rushed into the bar, making a direct beeline for him. Sir Bodsworth calmly ignored the aides presense as the aide hurridly babbled something indecipherable to just about anyone. The aide finished and hastily stepped back, lookin nervous. Sir Bodsworth finished his drink and gently set his glass on the table before standing up.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT THEY WANT! THIS IS NOT A BABYSITTING SERVICE AND I AM NOT A NANNY! YOU CAN TELL THEM TO STUFF IT!"

The aide squeaked and turned to sprint out of the bar without any attempt at dignity. Sir Bodsworth crossed to stand at the bar next to a man with baby shaped delicacies in his hands. Sir Bodsworth looked at the morsels then at the man holding them.

"Could you recommend a nice, very very very strong drink?"

The aide squeaked and turned to sprint out of the bar without any attempt at dignity. Sir Bodsworth crossed to stand at the bar next to a man with baby shaped delicacies in his hands. Sir Bodsworth looked at the morsels then at the man holding them.

"Could you recommend a nice, very very very strong drink?"

"Lemon juice liquor," Delormebleu said promptly. "It'll dissolve tbe back of your throat. Clears the sinuses, and all that. Would you like some marzipan?" he added, politely.

"Lemon juice liquor," Delormebleu said promptly. "It'll dissolve tbe back of your throat. Clears the sinuses, and all that. Would you like some marzipan?" he added, politely.

Sir Bodsworth orders the recommended lemon juice liquor and takes another look at the marzipan.

"I'm afriad I can't," he said regretfully. "Allergies and all."

While Aran waited for the spiders response he remembered some thing and changed the subject. "Didn't I hear you quit smoking? If you dont mind me asking, how did you smoke? Do you have air pipes in your side or do you have book lungs?" Aran was a good biology student in college. The Yellow Sea Islands spends billions on education.

Spock stared at Aran, no emotion on his face. He sipped his Romulan ale coolly.

"So," he said to the Guardians around him, "what are we up to?"

Four men walk in three are in full biohazard suits,the fourth is wearing coveralls and carrying a clipboard.He stops and looks around then speaks.

Excuse me,but could one of you fine people direct us to UN Building Management.They've contacted us about a slight problem with decaying bodies piling up on the grounds due to a rash of defenestrations recently.
Then perhaps you could also point out where we could find the offices of the Akimonadi delegate. We have some papers he needs to sign.

He waits patiently while one of the others unrolls a large poster tacking it to the bulletin board near the door. It reads

Defenestration Cleanup Services LLC, A high tech cleaning company specializing in defenestration cleanup,disembowelment cleanup,body disposal and crime scene cleansing.

Spock stared at Aran, no emotion on his face. He sipped his Romulan ale coolly.

"So," he said to the Guardians around him, "what are we up to?"

"213 kills to 21 deaths," was Wolfgang's answer as he continued playing his game in his head.

"Avoiding UN duties," was Kyle's as he relaxed on a frozen beach in the Commonwealth, listening to tranquil music.

The pair looked at IX, who shrugged. "Two to the power of 2079460347 to one against, I'd say."

Horgen glances around. Sir Bodsworth has moved on, leaving his paper behind, and the defenestrator cleanup crew has arrived, quite surprisingly.

"Ummm, I think I might know," he says, approaching the outfitted men. "If you just check the Assembly Room, you can start your search there. Unfortunately, defenestrations are quite common here, so you may need"--he glances at the three men in biohazard gear--"something a little more substantial, like a shoveller."

OOC: I never knew the Defenestrator used an atomic core engine.

Horgen Dush
UN Representative, Nomadic Peoples of Damanucus

Four men walk in three are in full biohazard suits,the fourth is wearing coveralls and carrying a clipboard.He stops and looks around then speaks.

Excuse me,but could one of you fine people direct us to UN Building Management.They've contacted us about a slight problem with decaying bodies piling up on the grounds due to a rash of defenestrations recently.
Then perhaps you could also point out where we could find the offices of the Akimonadi delegate. We have some papers he needs to sign.

He waits patiently while one of the others unrolls a large poster tacking it to the bulletin board near the door. It reads

Defenestration Cleanup Services LLC, A high tech cleaning company specializing in defenestration cleanup,disembowelment cleanup,body disposal and crime scene cleansing.

"Sirs," Spock said, "I believe I can be of assistance. I'm the deputy ambassador for the Akimonadi delegation here. One moment."

Spock pulled out a communicator and turned it on.

"WHAT?" said a shrill voice.

"Dr. Hodz, there's some men here for you." Spock said.

"What kinda men?"

"Defenestration Cleanup men."

"Oh, in that case I'll be down in a moment."

Dr. Hodz walked out of the elevator a second later, and walked over to the men.

"Can I help you?"

"Ummm, I think I might know," he says, approaching the outfitted men. "If you just check the Assembly Room, you can start your search there. Unfortunately, defenestrations are quite common here, so you may need"--he glances at the three men in biohazard gear--"something a little more substantial, like a shoveller."

The man with the clipboard nods a bit at the speaker turns to his comrades ,smirks jerking a thumb at the speaker and they all chuckle.He turns back and speaks....
"I assure you we have plenty of heavy equipment at hand. Not the first time around the block for us my good man.Perhaps you saw that show "Nasty Jobs" on the Discover Channel. They did a nice piece on one of our particullary gruesome cleanups......dreadful it was guts and body parts strewn about everywhere..but i digress. Its a frightfully disgusting and messy business,*sighs* but someone has to do it."
Thank you ever so much for the help.....

"Sirs," Spock said, "I believe I can be of assistance. I'm the deputy ambassador for the Akimonadi delegation here. One moment."

Spock pulled out a communicator and turned it on.

"WHAT?" said a shrill voice.

"Dr. Hodz, there's some men here for you." Spock said.

"What kinda men?"

"Defenestration Cleanup men."

"Oh, in that case I'll be down in a moment."

Dr. Hodz walked out of the elevator a second later, and walked over to the men.

"Can I help you?"
the man smiles and pops open a briefcase that materializes seemingly from thin air and pulls out a thick sheaf of paper.

"Ah, you must be Dr. Hodz then. I'm Renfrock Purdwall, regional supervisor for Defenestration Cleanup Inc LLC and this *holds up contract* is our service contract.
We'll need to get your signature on this before we can get started. We've already made a survey of the site and I must say you've been quite the busy defenestrator lately. Incidentally which model are you using? It seems like your getting great distance regardless. You must calibrate that machine daily.

<snip>

"Gërwensches*, Congratulations, Ambassador Di Fontana!" yelled Richard as he saw Kyle walking out of the bar. He had only just heard. He then turned back around to Carol

"Are you going to miss him?" he asked

*"Congratulations!" in Yokarian

The NSUN Nuncia of the Eternal Kawaii bowed and accepted Professor Delorme's proffered infant-shaped sweet, examining it with an arched eyebrow and saying, "It's pure marzipan, right? Just almonds and sugar?" It wouldn't do, after all, for a Kawaiian diplomat to be snacking on un-jihi candy. (Apparently her protest of being too old for the children's Day of the Dead rituals was a bit on the hollow side.) The Nuncia made a mental note to consider sponsoring a Pure Food and Drug resolution someday; Kawaiian dietary restrictions were always a challenge to obey here.

Turning back to Shelob, she laid down a 4 of Hearts and replied with a nervous giggle, "Um, no...it's not like that, really. We're not cannibals; the whole thing's just a joke about Kawaiian funerals. We don't bury our dead, you see. We offer them up to the scavenger birds as a way of thanking the Cute One for the gift of our mortal bodies. One last useful purpose for them, sustaining Nature and all that.

"I guess it is a little macabre," she mused, "but then, the Day of the Dead is a rather macabre holiday, after all." She looked at the marzipan baby again, and pondered. It might make a good practical joke to play on some of her staff. She was starting to suspect that that "cave man" speech they'd written for her wasn't the result of overwork.

"Gërwensches, Congratulations, Ambassador Di Fontana!" yelled Richard as he saw Kyle walking out of the bar. He had only just heard. He then turned back around to Carol

"Are you going to miss him?" he asked
A watery-eyed Carol turned her attention to Richard. "Yeah, of course I do," she said, sniffing. "He's such a thoughtful kid... and Rianna would be driven mad if she discovers that Kyle would be sent away. But oh well, at least he's going to be far far away from Maddy la cagne*."

*she called Deputy Ambassador Maddalena Pedrana the b*tch in Nord-Brutlandese

The NSUN Nuncia of the Eternal Kawaii bowed and accepted Professor Delorme's proffered infant-shaped sweet, examining it with an arched eyebrow and saying, "It's pure marzipan, right? Just almonds and sugar?" It wouldn't do, after all, for a Kawaiian diplomat to be snacking on un-jihi candy. (Apparently her protest of being too old for the children's Day of the Dead rituals was a bit on the hollow side.) The Nuncia made a mental note to consider sponsoring a Pure Food and Drug resolution someday; Kawaiian dietary restrictions were always a challenge to obey here.


"Oh yes, of course, just marzipan," Delormebleu said cheerily. "Sweet and sugary." He turned to the barman. "What other drinks have you got with lemons?"

To call Gideon Parr a "traveller on the Roads of Chaos" is perhaps inaccurate; he is, after all, a lawyer, whatever his other qualities may be. But even if he does not walk those roads, he certainly knows every right-of-way and title along the way, and he nods politely in return to Shelob.

"You are most welcome," he says in reply, because even lawyers know the value of courtesy - especially to giant spiders of infamous history.

His ordered glass is placed before him. Gahr Shan Ullachté is black as sin, thick as thieves, and sizzles softly on contact with atmosphere. So, of course, does cola; but it is not often that the drinker of cola jerks from his seat as if pulled abruptly upright by some celestial fishing-line, and very seldom indeed that he appears momentarily taller, darker, and more terrible, a shadow wound about with malice and ancient cunning.

The moment passes, and Gideon Parr is merely himself again. He smiles softly - perhaps even a little sadly (although we must not presume to know the minds of such as he) - and resumes his seat. He does not order a second glass.

Stephen Keary watches all this with his expression oscillating through woeful panic, fearful panic, outright fear, outright terror, and gut-wrenching relief. Mister Parr will never earn a trophy for "world's best boss", particularly when he is in one of his "little moods". Most of the UN, he thinks, is either insanely stupid or stupidly insane, but Mister Parr and the giant spider are something else entirely, and of the two the spider seems suddenly the lesser evil.

"Um," he mutters to Shelob. "Thank you?"

Mirah Leinenkugel steps into the Strangers' Bar, rubbing her temple. She steps around the defenestration cleanup team without a second glance, walks past the giant spider and its entourage, and approaches the bar, where she orders a cosmopolitan.

Mirah Leinenkugel steps into the Strangers' Bar, rubbing her temple. She steps around the defenestration cleanup team without a second glance, walks past the giant spider and its entourage, and approaches the bar, where she orders a cosmopolitan.

"Marzipan? (http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/2781/marzipanbabieszm5.png)", Delormebleu offers, almost automatically.

The main doors to the Bar open, and five uniformed men -- walking in a 'V' formation -- enter the room. Their uniforms, their skin, their hair, even the 'whites' of their eyes... all are in various shades of blue. The man at the front of this group looks around at the assembled diplomats and the available facilities, and nods slowly.
"This will do," he says. "Guntram, return to Base One and inform the Group-Secondman that I am establishing my command post in this chamber. The rest of you, wait for me over there..." (He points at a vacant table, which is situated in a corner of the room) "...and try to keep out of trouble until I rejoin you."

One of the other men, presumably the 'Guntram' to whom he'd given the first of those orders, turned smartly and left the Bar again while the leader's other three subordinates headed for the table that he'd indicated. He himself walked across to the actual bar itself, and addressed the nearest member of its staff.
"I am Group-Leader Anton vyn Rebbek, commanding officer of Task-Force 'Azure Three' of the Blue Guards," he introduced himself. "I was informed that you would be expecting us, and that arrangements had been made to provide us with a private meeting-room on this floor and meals for our senior personnel. Have you been given the relevant information, or do you need to consult one of your own superiors?"

"Marzipan? (http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/2781/marzipanbabieszm5.png)", Delormebleu offers, almost automatically.

Mirah smiles and takes a baby.

"Sure, thanks."

She sniffs it and tastes it tentatively. The weapon nullification systems of the bar don't turn it into anything more ridiculous than it already is, so Mirah assumes it's not dangerous to ingestion. She munches it contentedly.

'ere lads' slurred Sir Albert to the comical ones in blue, 'there's a spare table in't corner, and we can always provide a consultation with a mother in law if your needs are more'. Sir Albert smiled and winked to the bar.

ooc: Could the spider please answer my posts?

"Didn't I hear you quit smoking? If you dont mind me asking, how did you smoke? Do you have air pipes in your side or do you have book lungs?"

Turning back to Shelob, she laid down a 4 of Hearts and replied with a nervous giggle, "Um, no...it's not like that, really. We're not cannibals; the whole thing's just a joke about Kawaiian funerals. We don't bury our dead, you see. We offer them up to the scavenger birds as a way of thanking the Cute One for the gift of our mortal bodies.

Fanning her cards closed and then open again, Shelob picks a card and then replaces it in her hand. Laying down a 10 of hearts, the young man at her side finally gains her attention.

“Aranssz, yessz? Your namesz? Smokingssz isz easszy. I me holdsz cigarrettesz like szo to openingsz and breathssz.” Shelob held the cinnamon sucker down near her thorax. “Bothsz book lungsz and spiraclesz hassz I me. Spiraclesz just tubesz to movesz air to lungsz. Humanssz funny with tubessz through mouthssz. Butsz same disztancesz to lungsz szo...” Shelob shrugged. “Next handsz, if still heresz, you playssz, yessz.

Taking a long drink of her grasshopper, Shelob ponders the fate of tricksy Kawaiian grandparents.

“I me yessz would eatssz them. Keepsz populationssz healthy. Perhapssz grandparentssz not tastyssz though. Perhaps Nunciasz too nice to eatsz grandparentssz. Likesz funeral ideasz I me doesz. Makesz sensesz sendsz peoplesz back to flying godssz. Kawaiianssz smartsz peoplesz.”


ooc: Could the spider please answer my posts?Spiderssz livessz haves, yessz. Patiencesz young men learnssz, yess.

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

the man smiles and pops open a briefcase that materializes seemingly from thin air and pulls out a thick sheaf of paper.

"Ah, you must be Dr. Hodz then. I'm Renfrock Purdwall, regional supervisor for Defenestration Cleanup Inc LLC and this *holds up contract* is our service contract.
We'll need to get your signature on this before we can get started. We've already made a survey of the site and I must say you've been quite the busy defenestrator lately. Incidentally which model are you using? It seems like your getting great distance regardless. You must calibrate that machine daily.

"Ah, of course, Mr., er, Purdwall."

Dr. Hodz pulls out a very expensive looking pen and signs the contract.

"There we go. Incidentally, you should speak to Felix Dzerhinsky about calibration. It's his DEFENISTRATINATOR."

Dr. Hodz took a seat at the table next to Spock.

"Well, it seems I've missed a bit. I may have to go into the GA and defenestrate the moron who wrote the resolution at vote."

Dr. Hodz sipped whatever strange liquid Spock was drinking. He slumped over and fell to the floor.

"Lord, that's strong stuff." he said, rubbing his head.

"I thought I was through with drinking liquor and then injuring myself."

Dr. Hodz looked at the Romulan Ale, which seemed to have a slight luminescence.

"Incidentally," Dr. Hodz said, pulling out a Tippmann X-7, "I got a new toy. A paintball gun. Nonlethal, and I can shoot mace balls too if I want."

Dr. Hodz looked around.

"DRINKS ON ME!" he said loudly. "MR. DELORMEBLEU HAS MARZIPAN BABIES! GO! NOW!"

Foreign Minister Gao strides into the Bar, his usual sardonic sneer replaced with a beaming smile.

"Neville, would you be so kind as to uncork some fine rice wine? Many thanks, kind soul. Friends, now is the time for revelry, for tomorrow we kill common sense! Benedictions to you all!"

Sir Bodsworth raises his head and his glass.

"Down with common sense!"

After finishing off his drink, he glanced at the man with the marzipan.

"Since you are so generous, would you like a butterscotch? Or even a butterrum?"

Sir Bodsworth extended a hand with two candies to Mr. Delormebleu.

After finishing off his drink, he glanced at the man with the marzipan.

"Since you are so generous, would you like a butterscotch? Or even a butterrum?"

Sir Bodsworth extended a hand with two candies to Mr. Delormebleu.

"Thank you very much, good sir. Let's swap." Delormebleu took a butterscotch, and left a marzipan baby in Sir Bodsworth's hand in its place.

"Common sense..." he mused. "Common sense and the average delegate to the United Nations... An interesting topic, albeit perhaps a somewhat depressing one."

Joe Huckster walked in and looked around. "What a dump," Joe said. "I've seen better looking war zones."

Dr. Hodz looked around.

"DRINKS ON ME!" he said loudly. "MR. DELORMEBLEU HAS MARZIPAN BABIES! GO! NOW!"

"I believe... I'll take the drink. Vodka. I'll pass on the marzipan. I'm restricted from eating anything that looks like babies. Totally impure you know."

Serifina Karin gives Delormebleu a weak smile. "Sorry."

Sir Albert staggered back to the bar, looked Neville straight in the eye, which meant he actually stared at his left ear, but close enough if you're alcoholically hindered and shocked the bar by asking for a different drink.

"Neville, 'owd bean, ah'll 'ave one of them there erudite slams, ta muchly".

... ah'll 'ave one of them there erudite slams, ta muchly"

"I would like to take you seriously, but to do so would be an affront to your intelligence," Neville responded, simultaneously tossing his new assymetrical haircut and smoothing his new black velvet, silk-lined hoodie (the holiday in Randomea had been quite an eye-opener).

Violet was outraged. "For shame, Neville! What a thing to say to a valued customer!"

"Well, he asked for it! An erudite slam, right? You can't deny it was a slam, and as for erudite, it was a quote from George Bernard Shaw, the famous Ardchoillean dramatist who lived from 1856 to 1950! I mean, how erudite can you get?"

Sir Albert, seemingly deaf to the bar-staff's discussion, continued to look like a customer whose alcoholic expectations had not been met.

"Perhaps he wants us to set a Bahgumian Blue Brandy alight?" suggested Jimmy. "I dunno why I said that," he added, shamefaced, as the other two stared at him. "It was just the word 'flame' sorta popped into my head."

"Go sweep, or something, Jimmy," Violet said kindly. "I'll handle this. It's easy, Neville," she continued. "The Erudite Slam is a cocktail. Dicey and I invented it the other day. First, gin and vermouth -- you know, that slam, bang, tang -- and then absinthe."

"But what's erudite about absinthe?" the BarLord queried.

"Well, I suppose it's not all that erudite," Violet agreed. "Not unless you can recite all those French poets who died of drinking it. We just put it in because... well, you know how Dicey's always yearned for Sir Albert's affection?"

"That's putting it very discreetly. But, yeah, I guess. So, what's that got to do with the absinthe?"

"Oh, really, Neville, surely it's obvious ... " -- Violet took a deep breath -- "... absinthe makes the heart grow fonder."

Taking another glass-full of rum Jawey grinned. "Wahnt meh tuh zeeng meh anzem?"

Torn between the urge to play for time and the urge to give in to the warming drink now infusing its way into his mind, Courror hesitated moemntarily, making a hazy assessment of the swaying, grinning, evidently very lightweighted Jawey. His beaming smile was positively irresistible; the pilot felt almost churlish for his mental suggestion that Jawey really needed to sleep, rather than to sing. And anyway, this was a bar! What sort of bar didn't have drunken men bellowing incoherently late into the night? (Or early in the morning, or whatever time it was - Courror's internal clock had long since ceased winding itself up.)

"Er... yeah, sure. Why the hell not, eh?" He thumped Jawey's arm gently in a gesture of friendliness, which unfortunately went somewhat awry as Jawey swayed backwards and the fist instead collided with a very hard and unyielding buttress supporting the polished wood of the bar. Such are the perils of friendliness in such a place.

Spock looked towards Neville.

"Neville, another Romulan ale, and a packet of biscuits, please."

Dammit, wasn’t there anyone she could monster? ...

Aaaaahhhh!

A witchy shape loomed over the Kennyites. A foot tapped. Fingers on folded arms tapped, too.

“Sooooo!” it said belligerently. “Soooo, Sammy Faisano! Is this how we present our credentials, eh?”At once alarmed by the tone in Dicey's voice, Sammy leapt from his chair -- for it was only polite for a gentleman to stand when a lady came to his table (he didn't need to do it with Cdr. Chiang, for she was no lady).

It hit him just as the word came so bellicosely from Dicey's lips. His credentials! He knew he'd forgotten something! Nervously he felt the outside of his coat pocket; yes, the letters were still safely there. But then it occurred to him he knew nothing about (or had possibly forgotten) the protocols for presenting ambassadorial credentials to an Ardchoillean head of state. He turned helplessly to the commander, but she didn't appear to have any tips. Eh ... what the heck? he concluded to himself. He'd just wing it ...

"Erm? ... Oh, uhh, right!" he stammered. "My credentials! I can present them right now, if you got a minute."

By happy coincidence, Ace and Rico wandered into the bar at the right moment, to be on hand for the moving ceremony. Avaya might have been with them; she might have run into them in the hallway, looking for Sammy; she might have decided to accompany them in the course of her search; she might have been pleased to find him there; she might have decided to stay and witness the presentation; she might have been standing to one side now; and she might have been blushing. Whether from pride or embarrassment, it was tough to tell, because Sammy didn't exactly look his Sunday best, despite the suit. Passing out on a Twister mat on a grimy bar floor wouldn't do wonders for anyone's looks. Add to that, Sammy was suspicious that Avaya secretly hated his hair, and he'd been dreading the moment when she would finally grab him and drag him kicking and screaming to a hair salon, so they could "do it right already."

Ace and Rico began to snigger as the new ambassador pulled the Letters of Credence from his coat pocket. They were crumpled now, having spent a long night in there, maybe a bit damp, and reeked of Bazalonian beer (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13022081&postcount=6536). But if Dicey were to examine the documents more closely, she would see that, sure enough, Sammy was officially a credentialed diplomat to her nation.

"Here," he said.

PD walks into the room a bit uncertainly; he knows he is far from his cozy throne in his dictatorship, and doesn't have nearly as much power here.

"Hello there!" he says in a deceptively sweet manner, "My nation recently emerged from the region of Castillo Vida Negra, and I was thinking of submitting a proposal to the UN that would hopefully increase the state of the economy in our nations. I wanted to know if this would float with everyone here before just rolling out with a proposal that just sat there and gathered dust."

Turning to the waiter he says, "Get me a cream soda and 4 slices of pizza, pure cheese with no toppings or else...":sniper:

http://pic40.picturetrail.com/VOL291/1756382/5512569/t-242161761.jpg An eldery man enters the bar dressed in a blue uniform (minus the horse and sword of course).

"A pint of your finest stout," he says after making his way to the bar. After a brief moment he hands his credential card. "Major General Stanley of the Community of Blue Booted Bobbies in the region of Gatesville," he proclaims with pride. After a moment observing all the faces with either dissapointed looks, discouraging looks or those who simply turned away at the mention of something he apparently had said.

A frightful noise issued from Shelob's chest. Reaching into her thorax pouch, the ancient arachnid pulled out a large watch on a very long, very tarnished silver chain. No telling where that watch and chain had come from or where it had been. But anyone looking at the face knew the whys of the dreadful look that passed across Shelob's visage.

"I me molting! I me molting!" the old spider screeched like the proverbial wicked witch of yore. Throwing down a most excellent hand of crazy eights and jumping off the bar stool, she managed three scuttling sideways steps before a loud "CRACK!" echoed throughout the bar.

"Too manysz gnomessz Shelobsz eatsz. Too many gnomessz," she lamented with gusto. Knowing that a private place, even exiting the bar, was beyond her ability now, the spider backed into a corner where her blindness wouldn't be as large a hindrance and settled in for the duration.

A crack formed at the top of her thoracic carapace. Moving at glacial speed it made its way bidirectionally toward head and abdomen. Pitiful moans escaped from Shelob's maw along with deprecations and promises to not eat quite so much next time.

http://www.websmileys.com/sm/animal/530.gif

"Help me put up these velvet ropes, Vi!" Neville ordered hurriedly. "We don't want anyone getting stepped on ... Can we help, beauteous one? Pain relief? Warm towels? Grasshoppers? A nice cup of tea?"

Violet, thumping a couple of delicate rice-paper screens into place, sighed. That "beauteous one" hadn't gone unnoticed. Please, gods, not another Neville-infatuation-event, not right on the Bar's busiest season.

Meanwhile, over at the Kennyite table ...

But if Dicey were to examine the documents more closely, she would see that, sure enough, Sammy was officially a credentialed diplomat to her nation.

"Here," he said.

"I'm honoured, Ambassador Faisano," Dicey sneered, holding the bedraggled documents out fastidiously between thumb and forefinger. Nevertheless, she knew she had to do the thing properly. Centring, she began the arcane contacts with Guardians and wards that would make sure young Sammy wasn't fried to a magical crisp the first time he set foot on Ardchoillean soil.

It was tedious, and she was a bit rusty, such tasks being usually performed by customs officers as they stamped papers; nonetheless, she was able to time the unseen spells perfectly so that they peaked just as she ran an elegant fingernail under the seal of the envelope.

Which exploded.

Liquid fire burned through her veins. Her eyeballs boiled. Her hair writhed in serpents about her head.

And meanwhile bloody S. Faisano, Esq, stood there looking as gormless as if nothing was happening at all, and Avaya might well be trying to flirt with him, for all she cared, and as for Ace and Rico, they probably hadn't noticed that the President for Life and Senior Diplomat of the ancient and noble nation of Ardchoille was disintegrating in front of their totally stoned moronic eyes ...

<<Hello.>>
What?
<<Ardchoille.>>
I'm not Ardchoille.
<<No. I am.>>

Dicey never knew quite how she got through the rest of the formalities. She could remember some singing of the The Blue Flag*, but how she'd got that cut on her wrist ... please, Goddess, let there not be a matching one on Sammy's ... that'd mean they'd somehow become relatives-in-the-blood, in which case certain further incidents that she thought she might possibly remember were just ...ewww ... though that might account for Avaya's chilliness ...

Finally she was free to stagger over to a table by herself. What the hell was going on?

<<You've tapped the power of the land.>>
What, is the High Priest dead? That's not how it's supposed to work!
<<No, Phillippe's fine. It's just that the piece of land you're standing on became, ipso facto, Ardchoille. Me. The minute you performed an official head-of-state sort of thing. And you're the most powerful mage on it.>>
But I've done other head-of-state things here. Like speaking in the GA. Like voting. Like ...
<<This may take a while. Maybe you should get a drink.>>

That, at least, she understood.

*The people's flag is deepest blue/You'd better get a drink in you/With sixty verses left to sing/A drink would be a Damgudthing ...

The entire Altanari delegation (minus two guards who drew short straws and had to stay behind to guard the office) marched in, taking whatever tables were available. The sound of drink orders filled the air.

"You can only have one drink, though, Jaris," Ikir said teasingly. "You still have to go argue our position on that 'Max Barry Day' repeal."

"If I'm going into that debate as soon as I get here, I'm going to need a lot more than one drink," Jaris replied, a wry grin on his face.

"Oh, no. Jinella's the one who needs more than one drink, for sure. She gets to go be the PM after this," Ikir replied.

"Being PM wasn't so bad," Jaris said. "You got plenty of exercise dodging assassination attempts, basked in the love of exactly 2/3 of the population if you were lucky, and got to live in a nice house. What's not to like?"

"I don't know if I can do it...after all, I got used to all the perks we get here..." Jinella laughed.

"Perks? When did that happen?" Jaris said, while Ikir could be heard muttering to one of the guards, "We get perks?"

Ardchoilleans;13142282']"Help me put up these velvet ropes, Vi!" Neville ordered hurriedly. "We don't want anyone getting stepped on ... Can we help, beauteous one? Pain relief? Warm towels? Grasshoppers? A nice cup of tea?"

Blindly waving a tentacle about and shifting her bloated belly for better relief, the ungainly spider fought through the haze.

"Tea, yessz. And paracetamolssz. I me thankssz youssz, Nevillessz. Sszo kindssz."

Sir Bodsworth sighs as several loud commotions erupt in the bar. The spider-creature is apparently molting; a posse of loud people have taken several tables by storm; and someone casting a spell seems to have become InstaSmashed or something similar. However, as he scans the bar, it is none of this that catches his attention, but instead the young, lanky man who has just entered the bar for the first time. Sir Bodsworth turns back to the bar and attempts to escape detection, but it is too late.

The newcomer calls out to Sir Bodsworth and approaches him, ordering a brandy.

"Sir Bodsworth! I finally found you! Imagine my surprise when I asked for your office and the help desk laughed in my face!"

Sir Bodsworth groaned and turned to the young man, glaring at him.

"I don't like you, Alrik. The only reason you are here as my aide, is because your uncle Dr. Marvolo pleaded to have you sent here for 'community service.' If you hadn't gotten into such serious trouble with that...'club,' none of us would have to be putting up with this."

Sir Bodsworth walks to the spider creature and orders her a cup of tea.

"I hope you aren't in too much pain, ambassador."

Shelob hooked a limb through the tea cup that had been set in front of her and sipped the warm liquid carefully.

“Painsz, yessz. Mostly embarrassingssz. I me notssz public creaturessz. I me thankssz you he for concernssz, Sirssz Bodsworthssz.”

A low moan was interrupted by another loud crack as the spider’s exoskeleton sheared away from her head. Grunting and groaning, she began pushing the upper half of her form out of the restricting shell like a grotesque parody of live birth. Exhausted she settled half in, half out and sipped her tea, resting for the next attempt at freedom.

Guntram (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13108220&postcount=6706) returns to the Bar, with a worried expression on his face, and reports to his commander.

"mutter, murmur, mutter..."

"What? How can the Director be "unable to contact his superiors"?!? Surely he knows where their offices are?"

"murmur, mutter, murmur..."

"The wrong United Nations' headquarters building? How on Earth?!?! Could the multiverse really contain two such organisations?"
"Graargch!"
(He spat neatly into a spittoon that was conveniently fastened to the bar nearby.)
"I knew we shouldn't have hired out to a bunch of pinkies... Well, unless the 'Director' can find the cash with which to pay us himself, I suppose that means that we'll have to look for alternative employment around here until we can find a way back home.... and when we do get home I'll have those mother-fondling porteurs gralloched and spatchcocked, and feed their remains to my warhounds!
Barman, a large whiskey!"

A sound of distant screaming and banging disturbed the drinkers at the Strangers' Skybar on the 1001th floor of the UN building. Several stopped their conversations and listened intently, before shaking their heads sadly and resuming. Others remained perplexed as the terrible sound got louder and resolved into a single voice babbling and raving, screaming at the top of its voice and drowning out even the public address system which at that moment had burst into life-

"THIS IS A SECURITY ANNOUNCEMENT - DERRANGED AMBASSADOR IN THE HALLS - DO NOT..." but the door to the bar was smashed open in a shower of expensive wood and glass as the Ambassador for Putzi, long robes of office flapping, his eyes rolling, red and insane, his face flush with a terrible frustration and at the exertion of screaming at the top of his voice burst in from the main corridor. Staggering to his feet from the ruins of the door and disregarding the room at large he raced with demonic speed towards the doors at the far and end and out onto the great balcony, below which spread the glorious vista of the entire of Nation Sates. A trillion lights twinkling in the early evening light far below.

With one final leap the Ambassador cleared the high railings and his final scream was like that of an animal freed from its cage, a joyous and yet sad howl, that spoke of much suffering for little gain, of a yearning for the life back that was lost whilst imprisoned.

There was a ringing silence for a few moments and then the drinkers continued their conversations...

(The Bundesrepublik of Putzi will not be replacing our Ambassador at the UN.)

Dr. Hodz looks over the balcony at the Putzi ambassador. He bursts out laughing.

"Victory!" he yells to no one in particular.

"Drinks on me! Hell, drinks on me forever!"

The entire Altanari delegation, which had been cheerfully drinking in the corner (except for Jaris Krytellin, who was calmly pondering who to launch Altanar's 'encouragement' device at in the repeal debate), watched as the Putzian (Putzese? Putzican? eh whatever) ambassador launched himself off the balcony. They stood up, walked over to the balcony, raised their glasses in salute, gulped down their drinks, and then launched their glasses off over the balcony in the same general direction as the ambassador had gone. Then, they gave a collective shrug, walked back to their booths, and ordered new drinks.

Wolfgang, Kyle, and IX stared, wondering if they should do anything. In the Commonwealth, they'd have stopped the person for their safety. They didn't have the right, really, to do that here.

"That's life," Wolfgang absently purred as Kyle's nanos repaired the doorway.

I'm still trying to figure out how the entire bar suddenly went from the 13th floor to the 1001th floor. For that matter, when'd the building get 1001 floors?

OOC: Uh... It exists simultaneously on both the 13th and the invisible, hovering 1001th floor... Yeah, that's it.

>.>
<.<

What? My offices are on the 69 3/4 floor, after all...

EDIT: Wait... you made me say 1001th. I said that aloud and crashed my brain. It should, obviously, be 1001st.

Renfrock Purdwall, regional supervisor for Defenestration Cleanup Inc LLC and his three crewmembers are standing at the bar having a drink when the Putzi Ambassador does his high dive.
Renfrock sips his drink casually watching the ambassador from Putzi soar into the air. A slight smile crosses his lip as the bloodcurdling scream rents the air.Then he speaks.
"Right then boys,parties over. Hugo you and Lars get down to the van and get the industrial shop vac. Luther and I will notify the gnomes to cordon off the area."

The four men rush out the door double time,steeling themselves for the gory scene that awaits below.

The Wolf Guardians;13147246']OOC: Uh... It exists simultaneously on both the 13th and the invisible, hovering 1001th floor... Yeah, that's it.

>.>
<.<

What? My offices are on the 69 3/4 floor, after all...

EDIT: Wait... you made me say 1001th. I said that aloud and crashed my brain. It should, obviously, be 1001st.

ooc: Don't blame me, that's what Putzi said.

OOC: Maybe having the mystical energies of the land of Ardchoille temporarily channelled through it caused it to grow, and all of the "floors" below the old Basements are just a column of rock -- sort of like the ones upon which various castles in cartoons are mounted -- or even a huge tree? ;)

OOC: Maybe having the mystical energies of the land of Ardchoille temporarily channelled through it caused it to grow, and all of the "floors" below the old Basements are just a column of rock -- sort of like the ones upon which various castles in cartoons are mounted -- or even a huge tree? ;)

OOC: Of course, the nine planes of existance include: Asgard, Midgard, Muspelheim, NSUN Strangers' Bar, Alfheim, Nifelheim, et al.

OOC: Maybe having the mystical energies of the land of Ardchoille temporarily channelled through it caused it to grow, and all of the "floors" below the old Basements are just a column of rock -- sort of like the ones upon which various castles in cartoons are mounted -- or even a huge tree?

OOC: I deny this utterly, on the grounds that:


If there were a tree, some ambassadors would be swinging from it by now.

If there were a tree, Neville would have made some alcoholic use of it by now.

If there were a tree, Ace and Rico would be smoking its leaves by now.


Similarly, If there were a rock, the members of UNOG and the entire Mod Centre (on the floor above) would have been fossilised by now ...

Uh, I think my Secret Unbreakable Oath should have just kicked in here.

From far distant there is a growing sound, as of posters crying out in horror. The stitching of the world bursts asunder, and angelic - or perhaps demonic - figures sally forth. The Tetragrammaton Name of God is scribed deep upon their brows, for these avatars of Divine Judgement act secure in the knowledge that the second "x" is in fact supposed to be a clever statement about marketing, rather than a cheap attempt to look cool.

One among their number draws Itself up to its full and terrible stature, and speaks thusly;

"OI! YOU! NO!"

And then, having delivered their missive from on high (not, you must understand, absolutely not from one floor above the UNOG), the envoys of the Tetragrammaton Lord depart. The world zips itself back up. All is still ...

(Just a bit of madness, and in no way IC. Carry on!)

... in no way IC. Carry on!
See, that's what Tsar's like OOC. Just imagine him IC! The flashing eyes, the floating hair ...

*weaves a circle round him thrice, and closes eyes with holy dread*

That shouldn't have happened, you know. I thought I'd disabled the "Someone's Giving Away Mod Sekrits" Alarm. Maybe I got the spell wrong.

Oh, hang on ... Damn! It's "hemlock", not "shamrock".

Dicey never knew quite how she got through the rest of the formalities. She could remember some singing of the The Blue Flag, but how she'd got that cut on her wrist ... please, Goddess, let there not be a matching one on Sammy's ... that'd mean they'd somehow become relatives-in-the-blood, in which case certain further incidents that she thought she might possibly remember were just ...ewww ... though that might account for Avaya's chilliness ...

Finally she was free to stagger over to a table by herself. What the hell was going on?For a "Muggle," Sammy thought he handled his first very intense magical experience quite well (well, maybe not the "first": there was that time ... alone with Avaya ... although he'd invited that exchange; this came rather unexpected). No physical injuries, no immediately noticeable mental problems; there was an unexplained gash on his right arm, but it was thankfully shallow and would heal quickly. He wasn't really sure what had happened during the past ... half-hour, or however much time had elapsed -- everything just sort of went by in a blur -- although he did seem to remember a liquor-soaked tongue being shoved down his throat; he didn't know what that was all about.

As he emerged from his semi-conscious state, Avaya could only glare at him and then at Dicey across the bar, then at him again. Sammy felt an upsurge of guilt; had he done something that he shouldn't have while he was "under"? Maybe if she gave some indication as to what it was, he could apologize? But she didn't. ... Man, this was awkward. ... Sammy prayed for a distraction ...

A psychotic drunkard suddenly rushed past while in the commission of performing rampant non-ecclesiastical self-defenestration, right out the balcony window, and into the nighttime shadows below.

That would do nicely.

Then the fabric of existence rent itself for one brief chaotic moment, and Sammy thought that was overdoing it. He'd still take it, however.

He leaned closer to his sweet. "You wanna dance?" he asked her.

As he gently led Avaya by the arm toward the dance floor, Sammy turned to Ace and Rico, indicating the lone woman muttering incoherently (it appeared) to herself, and whispered, "Check and see if Dicey's OK, will ya?"

Moments later, Dicey's own mystical experience was interrupted by the irreverent giggles of two stoner dudes. "You all right, lady?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, 'cause we heard you could score us some killer 'tree leaves,' if you know what we mean!" eagerly added the other.

... Moments later, Dicey's own mystical experience was interrupted by the irreverent giggles of two stoner dudes. "You all right, lady?" one of them asked.

"Yeah, 'cause we heard you could score us some killer 'tree leaves,' if you know what we mean!" eagerly added the other.

Dicey was feeling somewhat beleaguered. First the Goddess had personally slapped her around, which rankled more than a little, she having been very careful to keep a low profile around deities; then the Spirit of the Land had invested her in no uncertain (and damnably uncomfortable) terms; and finally, irresistible Thrones, Powers and Dominions had unzipped the very fabric of existence (come to that, wasn't it rather irreverent to think of Ts, Ps and Ds even having zippers? No, don't go there, Dice).

Anyway, she certainly didn't feel up to dealing with two drug-crazed Kennyites.

"Go. Away. Now," she ordered, calling on the new Spirit-of-the-Land powers to defend her turf (it was, after all, Ardchoille's turf, wasn't it?). Zapping them all the way back to the bar should teach them a lesson.

Nothing happened.

Ah. So the Land had its own priorities, then? It could decide when to be used? It had opinions on things?

Memories of past UN debates in which her vote might not have been exactly in accord with The Land's best interests floated back. Was she going to have to turn Nat-Sov, then? Or did it mean that The Land had realised that an international confederation of equal nations acting nobly to preserve worldwide human rights in a soul-destroying era of greedy multinational corporations was, in fact, ultimately preferable to shortsightedly seizing on immediate national advantage ...

A movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. The lads were still there. And they were being kind, in their own weird way, even if it was mainly in the hope of receiving goodies. Sigh.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for your concern. I'm fine, and I'm afraid I don't have any, ah, contacts. Why don't you go back to the Bar and have a nice drink on my tab?"

As she said it, she reached out psychically and released a flow of endorphins in their brains. Sure it was Misuse of Magic (ooc: tiny little barely noticeable godmode), but considering what she already had on her charge sheet, it wouldn't make much difference.

If the stoners took her up on the offer, they'd discover that whatever they ordered was the finest psychedelic experience they'd ever had. (ooc; tiny little helpful introduction of another possible story arc).

Torn between the urge to play for time and the urge to give in to the warming drink now infusing its way into his mind, Courror hesitated moemntarily, making a hazy assessment of the swaying, grinning, evidently very lightweighted Jawey. His beaming smile was positively irresistible; the pilot felt almost churlish for his mental suggestion that Jawey really needed to sleep, rather than to sing. And anyway, this was a bar! What sort of bar didn't have drunken men bellowing incoherently late into the night? (Or early in the morning, or whatever time it was - Courror's internal clock had long since ceased winding itself up.)

"Er... yeah, sure. Why the hell not, eh?" He thumped Jawey's arm gently in a gesture of friendliness, which unfortunately went somewhat awry as Jawey swayed backwards and the fist instead collided with a very hard and unyielding buttress supporting the polished wood of the bar. Such are the perils of friendliness in such a place.

Ignoring his new friend's grimace of pain Jawey grinned even wider, stood even 'straighter' to the endangerment of falling backwards, and raised his glass in the air in salute to whatever Gaffaen deity was observing.

"Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah,
Ze terrortohreez Ah'd kwyite lake te see,
Itz plainz so emperty, itz foyrests so tall,
Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah, haz eet ahll.

Kahnya ohv ze golden hills,
Itz feehlds of bearley, corn an' rape.
Ze vines entdwineen een and owt
An zem brownie gurls fleyx theyr heeps n' pout."

Jawey stopped for a breath, a mouthful of rum and proceeded to march around the Bar.

"Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah,
Ze terrortohreez Ah'd kwyite lake te see,
Dreenkin' wyne or beehrer,
Or choppeen at ze mahll,
Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah, haz eet ahll.

Mazzahya ohv ze liddel peepohl,
Meenin day an naght,
Fohr jimstonz so pwehty,
Tho theyr so uggerly.

Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah,
Ze terrortohreez ah'd kwyite lake te see,
Youyr so neyr te ze ocean,
So fahr frohm ze North Pohl,
Kwyite a lang wahy frohm ze deysart,
Lahts ohv mahles frohm del Sohl.

Rahveer ohv ze fuhrrez,
Cahtz an' shickenz an theenz,
Zey neyer doo eenyteen,
So stey wight awehy!

Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah,
Ze terrortohreez ah'd kwyite lake te see,
Lyhon hunneen or dahnseen,
Or jeest rayceen HummVeez,
Gaffah, Gaffah, Gaffah,
Ahr ze terrortohreez fohr mey.

Jahrveedeeanz are ze hunterz,
Szhooteen puzzies fohr shpohr...." Jawey broke off as he looked momentarily out the window. "AAAAAAAAAAARGGGH! Whyz ahr weez een a BLEEMP?!" This was a bad time for Jawey to realise he was 1001 floors up as he was extremely acrophobic. The fact the floor was not attached to land by anything more than a stout cable was not lost upon him.

Shemp ambled quietly into the world-famous pub, unnoticeable as he was amidst the loudly chattering diplomats, random drunks teetering to and fro (one in particular caterwauling an Old Gibberish Hymn), witches communing with their Earth Mothers, sudden inexplicable tears in the fabric of the universe, and ambassadors randomly kicking each other in the nuts, or failing that, hurling each other out the windows. Almost unnoticeable, one should say, for his presence did attract the gaze of one trophy-eared young man, wearing a casual suit, loosened necktie, maddening expression, and a strange bulge in his jacket that almost made his torso look too big for his head. Was it a ... vest of some sort? Kevlar, perhaps? The gentleman grasped Shemp by the shoulders, as though greeting a good friend, then kneed him, gratuitously, to the groin.

Flailing and sputtering, the newly appointed UN observer stumbled doubled-over the rest of the way to the counter -- briefly pausing while grasping the back of a chair as a crazed self-defenestrator rushed past and flung himself off the balcony, screaming and cackling madly. Still reeling from the attack on his family jewels, Shemp would have collapsed right there beneath the bar, had he not grasped at the countertop for support at the right moment. He held himself there, coughing for a few moments, before rightening himself and sitting -- very softly -- on a free barstool.

"Say Neville," he called out to the barman, "there any good beers here you'd recommend?"

He drummed his fingers on the counter, humming quietly to himself as he waited, randomly swatting at what he could have sworn was a string tugging at his sleeve.

Seeing the poor, pained man sitting at the bar and deciding that he didn't want to be drinking alone either, Alrik sat beside him.

"Sorry about the...nut-buster brigade there. It's a new...fad."

Alrik turned to the bar.

"Neville, the best beer one our tab for the ambassador here. And a Redrum for me!"

He turned back to the man.

"I hope they aren't permanently damaged. The name's Alrik Marvoli, from Tanular. I'm the ambassador's aide."

Group-Leader Anton vyn Rebbek (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13108220&postcount=6706) cautiously approached the broken window, holding a paper menu-card in one hand. He released that item, watched as it fell straight downwards to the floor, and then took a deep breath.
A few seconds passed.
"1001st floor?" he commented. "Nonsense. If we were that high up then now that this window's not intact there would be a slight but noticeable difference in air pressures that would have pulled that card towards the opening... and I'd have been able to feel the lower pressure over here. That idiot who threw himself out through the window must have been hallucinating, and have projected his beliefs somehow into our minds: Maybe he was combining some ordinary drug such as LSD with psychic powers, or maybe he was using some new and stronger drug instead..."


_________________________________________________________________

OOC: There. That's another anomaly plausibly explained, if you'll accept my suggestion... ;)

And, as you can see, the 'Blue Guards' who turned up in another thread have now been explained as mercenaries whose current employer accidentally brought them to this UN's headquarters when he was actually working for another such organisation -- based somewhere else in the Multiverse -- instead. As he's consequently cut off from his normal source of funds they'll be seeking a new employer fairly soon... I'll give 'UN Building Management' first refusal on their services: There are about 360 of them, all Blueskins, whose 'post-modern' weaponry is generally non-lethal in nature (although they do possess some potentially-lethal hardware too, and would reserve the right to use that if it really seemed necessary...).