NationStates Jolt Archive

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.

"I hope they aren't permanently damaged. The name's Alrik Marvoli, from Tanular. I'm the ambassador's aide.""No, I think I'm good," Shemp managed with a grimace. "Nice to meet you, Alrik," he continued, offering his hand. "I'm Shemp #3, and I'm here on a fact-finding mission of sorts. Our leader Mrs. Schutte wanted to send someone to observe the United Nations and make a recommendation as to whether it would be beneficial for us to join, and after shrieking at us incoherently for an hour or so, she finally decided that I should make the trip.

"And after having spent ten minutes here," he added, "I have to say, I'm starting to wish I was back in Lawrence Welk Village so that awful woman could scream at me some more!" He managed a wink. "Have to admit, though, this place really gives newcomers a rather... interesting... first impression of the UN." He had a quick glance around at his fellow patrons. The man who had assaulted him before was still roving the bar, randomly kicking colleagues in the nuts, and by now a blue-clad, if plainly illegal, UN security contingent had marched in to investigate the suicide incident. "Crazy, psychotic, corrupt, infantile, at times idiotic, but never, ever dull."

He turned back to his new friend. "So, you new here too? What's your story?"

-stuff-

Just to be mischievous, the Guardians grinned at one another and opened a portal just outside the window, the other end about 1001 stories up, creating that very air pressure difference.

Wolfgang chuckled and spoke. "You know, you shouldn't sound so incredulous that people are screwy here, nor should you - necessarily - look for a chemical or otherwise external reason for it."

"No, I think I'm good," Shemp managed with a grimace. "Nice to meet you, Alrik," he continued, offering his hand. "I'm Shemp #3, and I'm here on a fact-finding mission of sorts. Our leader Mrs. Schutte wanted to send someone to observe the United Nations and make a recommendation as to whether it would be beneficial for us to join, and after shrieking at us incoherently for an hour or so, she finally decided that I should make the trip.

"And after having spent ten minutes here," he added, "I have to say, I'm starting to wish I was back in Lawrence Welk Village so that awful woman could scream at me some more!" He managed a wink. "Have to admit, though, this place really gives newcomers a rather... interesting... first impression of the UN." He had a quick glance around at his fellow patrons. The man who had assaulted him before was still roving the bar, randomly kicking colleagues in the nuts, and by now a blue-clad, if plainly illegal, UN security contingent had marched in to investigate the suicide incident. "Crazy, psychotic, corrupt, infantile, at times idiotic, but never, ever dull."

He turned back to his new friend. "So, you new here too? What's your story?"

Alrik smiled as he shook the proffered hand.

"Back in Tanular, my uncle is a pretty influential individual (because he heads up most of the nation's scientific development). When I recently became embroiled in some...disreputable business...I happened to be in the wrong place during a police raid."

Alrik smiled, rubbing his temple, remembering an earth-shattering blow to the side of his head.

"The judge was going pretty harsh on us, but my uncle managed to convice the Boss (our top leader's nickname) to sentance us all to service. Most of the rest of them were packed off to the military, or hospitals, or the like...however, in order to smooth everything over, I needed to leave the country. So it was decided that I would be appointed as aide to the UN ambassador."

He thumbed in the generally direction of an older gentleman chatting with a spider.

"Sir Bodsworth was quite right when he said this is a baby-sitting assignment, but I'll find something to do that will be appreciated...

As for the UN, I haven't been here much longer than you, but it definetly isn't dull around here. Heck, from what I understand, the GA is more rambuncuous than the Bar crew here."

Apparently he wasn't 1001 floors up...or he was...Jawey did not know. What he did know was that he was pretty high up and clinging to the windowsill for dear life. With bloody hands. Jawey did a double take, and examined one hand very slowly, gripped the sill, then looked at the other. Shards of glass were imbedded in his palms as he apparently was holding to the windowsill of the broken window.
Do not ask the narrator to explain the thoughts of the wey-faced ambassador right now, it would probably burst your inner brain.

The Guardians grinned again, and brought the other end of the portal from the 1001st floor to the ceiling of the Bar. The holographic IX calmly stood, walked over, and stomped on both of the man in the window's hands, so as to make him fall backwards through the portal, through which the lower half of him could be seen hanging through. The man now being in two differently oriented gravity fields, one would only hope he had a strong stomach. Kyle was standing near where the man should fall, medikit in hand.

OOC: Yes, I've played far too much Portal these past few weeks. It's great.

ooc: Just let me get my head around this...IX got up on the window sill, stamped on J's bleeding hands, causing him to semi-step back through a portal and semi-onto the 1001th floor?

No...wait, re-read, only the top half of the room...

I'm assuming IX is a physical hologram as he can stamp.

ic:

This was not a good day...or month for that matter. Jawey had the sensation of falling as he swayed backwards to save his battered hands. 'That caen't be righ'...only me vertigo' he thought, but no he definitely fell down and not flat on his back.
Swearing and yelling Jawey grabbed hold of the ankles of the offending hologram, smearing blood down his legs and threatening to pull him off the narrow sill. It was then he realised his fee could not feel anything below his feet no matter how he swung them around for a purchase on something. "Ah will naht faent, ah will naht faent..." he muttered to himself over and over between yells and choice words, gripping painfully for dear life.

OOC: :D Damn me for messing with spacetime. It's just too confusing.

IC: IX grinned downward, a friendly, half-mocking smile on his face. "You organic beings." He reached down and effortlessly picked the man up, closed the portals, and set him gently down next to Kyle, who tasked his nanosystem to repairing the man's hands. A blue, barely visible cloud formed around them as they repaired the damage.

WOLFEDIT: Ah. I thought he was hanging from the windowsill. Was he, in fact, standing in it, and only leaning out of it? That might make more sense. I really shouldn't do this crap this early in the morning.

Courror blinked slowly a few times, cautiously checking to see what was going on. Had it stopped? Really stopped? Yes, it had indeed stopped. Jawey had, mercifully, ceased his mangled performance of his country’s (or countries’) anthem. The airman opened his eyes, still somewhat warily, to see Jawey now clinging desperately to the window and screaming in an increasingly hysterical tone about being on… a blimp? Momentarily rattled, Courror hesitated before moving towards the window, having observed the newcomer’s card trick. He knew well enough, once the thought had wheezed its way through the fogged passages of his gradually sozzling mind, that what the stranger said should be true; any building so tall would have a noticeable difference in pressure between inside and out. Well, either that or they’d all be laid out with oxygen starvation. He approached the stranger carefully and enquired after his name, mixing tipsy openness with a dash of hardened drinker’s suspicion, before nodding towards the now rather strange-looking Jawey.

“He could also”, Courror confided, “be completely nuts and pissed to boot. I’m fairly sure that’s it, y’know.” He nodded conspiratorially, grinning broadly, before getting rather a shock when Jawey’s form appeared (or rather, some of it appeared), bleeding rather badly from his hands and screaming foreign imprecations at a rate of knots, half-hanging from a large… thing… in the ceiling.

“Or, on second thoughts, it might be those drugs you were talking about.” Courror was now not at all sure of what the hell was going on, but he was fairly determined to injure whichever bastard was presumably responsible. After all, it was the only decent thing to do in such a place. He therefore now glared menacingly – one of his favourite looks – in the general direction of the (very) strange individual whose companion was repairing Jawey’s hands, Jawey now having been restored to his normal self and apparently none the better for it.

“So, just who’re you then?” he asked, a tone of irritable dislike belying his pleasant smile.

The slumbering spider awoke with a start. What is all that racket... and screaming?! Shelob hadn't expected to nap and certainly not so long, but the hot, sweet tea and the paracetamol had lulled her into a comfortable coma. She couldn't see the bar from behind the screens provided by Neville...Such a lovely man. Must remember not to eat him.... and curiosity tugged at her.

Rested and ready for the final push, Shelob sighed and shifted her bulk. With a wrenching and pulling, the old cob pulled away from her shattering shell. It broke into a thousand pieces like dry, brittle leather. Her new body glistened black and deadly. Still slightly soft, it was exquisitely sensitive, with every draft of air triggering a ripple of neuroactivity.

The old girl flexed her newly freed legs one at a time, marveling in the increased tastes and smells. The death's head mark on her abdomen gleamed so white it nearly glowed in the dark. Shelob carefully moved the screens back and moved to the bar, announcing,

"Feelsz like celebrating, yessz I me. Drinkingssz for everyonessz." Then, totally forgetting her recent lamentations, she smacked her maw and said, "Hungry I me issz, yessz. A gnomessz or twossz or threesz, tasszty would be, yessz. Anyone huntingssz wantssz to go?"

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

"Feelsz like celebrating, yessz I me. Drinkingssz for everyonessz." Then, totally forgetting her recent lamentations, she smacked her maw and said, "Hungry I me issz, yessz. A gnomessz or twossz or threesz, tasszty would be, yessz. Anyone huntingssz wantssz to go?"

Wolfgang jumped up, withdrawing his holographic gun from his jacket in his show-off gunslinger fashion. "I'm in."

"Oh what the heck, i'll go." said Richard, after a sudden case of introversion

Sir Bodsworth shook his head.

"Although I enjoy a good hunt, I don't think gnomes are really much of a challenge. Or perhaps I am mistaken about that? If such game were tricky, I just might tag along..."

"...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. ...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.As Dicey returned to her solitude, her guests, a little disappointed, not quite sure what had just happened, yet not willing to pass up an opportunity for free beer, looked to each other for a moment, shrugged, and turned back toward the bar. "Yo, Neville!" Rico called out. "Two Arrogant Bastard Ales, on Dicey's tab! She said it's OK!"

The drinks materialized rather quickly, and the duo were soon giggling incessantly, and pointing rudely at Sammy and Avaya, who by now had seated themselves at a nearby table, and were feasting on some of the pub's exquisite culinary delights. Sammy was happily wolfing down a steak and Avaya was eating -- well, Sammy never asked what it was, exactly, but she seemed to be enjoying it nonetheless. Although she did pause, fork in mid-air, to laugh at a piece of green caught in his teeth, thinking her friend was being silly. He turned bashfully away to get rid of it, and as soon as turned back, he pointed, not so subtly, at a spot over her shoulder to announce: "Hey, look! A Giant Spider!"

Compliantly the girl whirled around to investigate, and as she did so, Sammy quietly slipped a small white gold diamond ring into her champagne glass, and gazed expectantly as Avaya returned to take a sip. Spying the glittering object inside, she curiously wielded her fork to fish it out. She gazed at it as though she'd never seen such a thing before, and turned to Sammy for help, though she was smiling. The boy, who had flushed considerably by now, was grinning broadly. "It's an engagement ring," he explained as he rose from his chair to approach her. He fell on one knee and clasped her hand as he looked up into her dark eyes. "I'm asking you ... to marry me."

Several things were supposed to happen right then, but there seemed to be a delay of sorts. Ace and Rico, who had been assigned a particular task for the occasion, but now tragically under Dicey's spell, were convinced they were Harold and Kumar (every few minutes breaking character to argue over who got to be Kumar), and that all objects within reach were White Castle burgers and fries. Sammy spotted them out of the corner of his eye just as Rico was devouring a bar napkin. "Guys! Now!" the ambassador barked.

"Oh, right," Ace said. "Sorry, Sam." The two of them hopped down from their stools to fiddle with a cage concealed behind a couple neighboring barstools, releasing two dozen white doves into the air. The eyes of customer, staffer, arachnid and Avaya alike instantly raised to the ceiling in awe as the birds fluttered majestically over them all, and it seemed like the perfect moment. But of course, having been arranged by Kennyites, its effects would inevitably sour before long. And darned if the pigeons Sammy's friends had rented weren't actually Kennyite doves, naturally disposed toward mild belligerence at any rate, and they hadn't been fed in days. Within moments, the bar's avian visitors began to dive menacingly upon the crowd, cooing angrily and clawing and pecking at random body parts.

The mariachi band Sammy had hired for the occasion was also late, and besieged as the rest of the bar patrons by terror in flight, shielded their faces as they grouped together near the couple, looking impressive in their tassel-brimmed black hats and bright red jackets. Being Kennyite mariachi, much of their repertoire was burped rather than sung, and thus they launched into a rousing version of "La Bamba," as Neville's customers shrieked and scurried about to flee the wrath of the devil birds. Through it all Sammy continued to hold Avaya's hand and look up at her, awaiting her response, calmly blowing away a piece of down that had stuck itself to his upper lip.

"Aww, how sweeeet..." murmured a wabbitish voice from nearby...

Ace and Rico ... hopped down from their stools to fiddle with a cage concealed behind a couple neighboring barstools, releasing two dozen white doves into the air. ... Within moments, the bar's avian visitors began to dive menacingly upon the crowd, cooing angrily and clawing and pecking at random body parts.

Shelob jumped to the bar and then to the ceiling squashing two of the insidious birds beneath her bulbous belly. Hanging upside down over the heads of the other bar patrons, she snagged four more, giving them a nip of venom to quiet the irritants, before the birds, brain-damaged as they were, decided they'd best fly around the large spider.

Dropping straight down and righting herself as she fell, Shelob landed in front of Ace and Rico oblivious to their current psychological state, dumping the bedraggled birds on their feet.

"You his flying ratssz, yessz? Putssz them in cage, yessz. Nowssz. Flying ratssz very untasszty."

Looking over at Sammy and Avaya, Shelob wondered how long the girl would leave him on his knees.

It had been long enough that by now Dr. Hodz and Spock had disappeared from the Stranger's Bar, presumably doing "work" though that was debatable, as Dr. Hodz was really just fooling around in his office and Spock had returned to Akimonad for a short vacation.

In the bar, however, things were about to take an unexpected turn.

A forty-something year old woman, though she did not look her age, walked into the bar.

She looked somewhat frantic, as though she might have traveled far to look for something, and asked, to no one in particular, "Where's Jules?"

OOC: Holy fragging hell. I found this on the third page!*HUGE BUMP*

IC: IX turned towards the woman. "Well, madame, there's one of three places a UN person normally is. The General Assembly, here, or their office. His is on the 21st floor. The GA is on the lower few floors. And you're already here and he's not, so that rules out the Bar."

Kyle leaned back in his chair far enough to look, upside-down, at the woman. "You COULD go gallivanting across the building looking for him, OR you could stay here and have a drink and wait awhile. He's bound to stop by eventually."

ooc:
Sorry, had a combination of busy-ness, forgetting wtf my character was supposed to be doing and somehow missing the fact a question was asked. But yes, Jawey was supposed to be standing by the broken window, whose edges he grabbed when he saw how high up he was. But no matter.

ic:
Jawey opened one of his eyes slightly to find himself in what would be a good representation of what happens when a lot of angels get angry - cascading bloody white feathers, screaming people with welling cuts over their hands and faces and one of those wolf-men tipped so far back in the chair next to him that he could grin obscenely upside down.
'At least my hands don't hurt....ohhh my head!' he thought. Clearly the day was going to get still worse.

Staggering over to the bar, Jawey looked at the barlord and yelled at him desperately, in a thick Gaffaen accent "AHHH!...MEHND MEHN!"*

*Translation: "Ah! Mend me!"

The doors of the bar slowly squeeked open as Ambassador Maximillian Renault entered, slightly tired.
He looked about at the slight chaos about the bar and shrugged. "A wild delegates party and I wasn't invited? Humph."

Maximillian walked over towards the barkeep. He then grabbed an overturned stool and sat upon it. "The Strongest... of whatever you've got."

*Zarquon entered the bar alone. He was weary from the previous days debating, but verry happy with the end result. He walks in amidst all of the flying debris, somehow he manages to make it to the bar unharmed. He pulled up a stool beside Ambassador Renault and called for the barlord.*

I don't care what you give me, just make sure it wipes the last five days from my mind.

I have found the best room in the UN! I'll come here whenever the debates become boring or ridiculous! So expect me here regularly. Oh in case the debates are actually interesting, I'll make them ridiculous so I have an excuse to come here and get drunk! I'm buying a round for any who agree with me! Hooah!

A very excited Charlotte Ryberg enters the bar.

Hello, perhaps I just founds a pretty great place, just after rejoicing the success of the proposal Ban International Trafficking.

Having expressed my congratulations to the author, I hope you are not doing too bad today, although the weather isn't in favor of us.

A pint of Duff please.

Richard saw the newcomer to the bar and greeted her, "Hello and welcome to the United Nation's Stranger's Bar."

Anravelle stormed into the bar, her delicate black cloak fluttering in agitation, ruining the image of serenity and superiority she’d spent years mastering. Ithanian anger wasn’t exactly something the world got to see very often and an Ithanian in a bar was even more extraordinary but Anravelle didn’t care about emotional or personal restraint at the moment.

‘Selfish little bitch, “it’s my life choice”? What kind of fucking reason is that?’ she hissed mentally, her nails gripping into the soft seat of a stool cruelly as she pulled herself up. Implants took control of her physical routines, calming her shaking body as tears started to trickle down her cheeks. The deep breaths did help a little but the emotional pain was still there.

‘Would you like our help Miss?’ her implants said hesitantly.

‘No! Leave me alone, just order a drink and shut the fuck up for once.’

‘We can’t, the bar uses verbal orders rather than electronic and we strongly recommend that you let us help. We do have a family counselling programme installed.’

‘No offense but I don’t want to be helped by a computer, I know what I need. Alcohol and somebody real to talk to about anything but this. Okay? Now be quiet and don’t you dare filter the alcohol out of my system. I want it there.’

After a moment of mental silence she composed herself and searched around for the nearest bartender, managing to politely ask for a glass of Moon Tears. Before deciding a bottle of the burning liquid would be better given her foul mood. Now she just needed some poor soul to share it with so they could suffer the humiliation of trying to keep up.

Ms. Ryberg continues to drink, while making her final decision on today's issue, A Request For Military Aid. It's the first time she has seen a citizen of Ithania.

Having made the decision, she makes a phone call to the bar: 'Can I speak to Mr. Myphants... first name, Pea?'

Barman: 'Phone call for Mr. Myphants. Is there a Pea Myphants? Hey everybody, listen up; I wanna Pea-Myphants (pee my pants)!...

Carina remained silent for a while. The spasms of ache were transformed into sharp continuing pangs of pain. For a moment she tried to hold her composure by smiling blandly at the people with her. She grasped the glass of juice Mother Cargaminh had given her, intending to drink, but she was frozen from the biting pain. A wince escaped her as she felt something break and a warm liquid ran down her thighs.......

"Knut!" she called out to her husband, "Me... la natu arriveco!"
"Knut! I... the babies are coming out!"

(Phoning from home to the barman)

...Uh, I'd like to speak to a friend of mine. Last name Yernose. First name Pick.

Grast Zaran burst into the room and walks up to the bar muttering. He turns to the bartender. "Hey, barkeep, what do people get drunk on around here?"

Mickey Special and his attorney, Thurston, enter the bar and take seats at Mickey's usual table. Mickey notices that the Ouija board is still there, just as he left it.

Angus the monkey runs up and jumps into Mickey's lap, climbs atop his head, then begins humping his ear.

Hey! Hey Angus, quit that shit! I'm glad to see you too, but damn! How've they been treatin' ya? Gettin' lots of bar food? Go grab us some beer, get one fer yourself too.

Angus screeches and scampers off to the bar, then returns with three Lone Star's.

Hey! When'd they start servin' that here? Good boy, Angus. *pats the monkey on the head*

We'll play some wee-gee aftewhile. Damned thing only works right when you help.

Hey Thurston! think that UN thing'll pass?

Thurston is talking on a cell-phone and nods in the affirmative.

Good! Best damn anti-trafficking law we could hope for.

I don't care what you give me, just make sure it wipes the last five days from my mind.
I think I got somethin' for ya. Gimmee a second.

Mr. Special hauls a large leather satchel up onto the table. From it he extracts a bottle of Wild Turkey bourbon, a bottle of Heaven Hill vodka, a bottle of Thunderbird wine, two cans of tomato juice, a bottle of Ouzo, a wineskin containing homemade sangria, three cans of Miller High Life, a bottle of vermouth, a bottle of Bombay gin, a bottle of Pasion Azteca tequila, a vintage bottle of Pernod Fils absinthe and three duck eggs.

He combines various quantities of the above ingredients in a large mixing bowl, then stirs the concoction with two large wooden spoons. Satisfied that the mixture is correct, he breaks the spoons into several pieces and sets them afire. He then holds the mixing bowl over the fire for about a minute and a half before placing it aside and getting a strainer and a giant ornately-decorated beer stein out of the satchel.

He fills the strainer with ice from the bar and pours the contents of the mixing bowl through it into the stein.

He hands it to Zarquon.

Here ya go. I call it "The Burnout".

Renault, noticing Zarquon, turned to acknowledge him. "How goes it Zarquon? I must ask... Do you have any idea how we can hault that pitiable legislation for trafficking drugs? Short of torching the embassies of those who vote for it, of course."

He then heard nearby, the voice of one of his allies. "Ah! It's the Repersentative of ShogunKhan! I am with you Comrade!"

What are we drinking tonight? Had Vodkas last night, had Sake the night before... lets go for bottles of Asti Spumante! Hooah!

Carina remained silent for a while. The spasms of ache were transformed into sharp continuing pangs of pain. For a moment she tried to hold her composure by smiling blandly at the people with her. She grasped the glass of juice Mother Cargaminh had given her, intending to drink, but she was frozen from the biting pain. A wince escaped her as she felt something break and a warm liquid ran down her thighs.......

"Knut!" she called out to her husband, "Me... la natu arriveco!"
"Knut! I... the babies are coming out!"

Richard tapped Knut on the shoulder, "I think your about to become a father, Carina needs you."

he then turned to Carol "They might need our help, let's go over and see if we can do anything."

Carina remained silent for a while. The spasms of ache were transformed into sharp continuing pangs of pain. For a moment she tried to hold her composure by smiling blandly at the people with her. She grasped the glass of juice Mother Cargaminh had given her, intending to drink, but she was frozen from the biting pain. A wince escaped her as she felt something break and a warm liquid ran down her thighs.......

"Knut!" she called out to her husband, "Me... la natu arriveco!"
"Knut! I... the babies are coming out!"

The Mother Superior had been smiling and chatting about something or other, when Carina shouted out. Surprise washed over her face as the expectant mother dropped her juice glass and called out to her husband.

"Carina? Carina, my child? The babies? The babies! Patris et filii! Call a doctor! Call a doctor!" she shouted, pulling her rosary from the bowels of her habit and furiously beginning Hail Maries.

Richard tapped Knut on the shoulder, "I think your about to become a father, Carina needs you."
Knut quickly rushed towards Carina's table and saw blood and water flowing down her legs. She was starting to give birth, and in the Stranger's Bar, of all places...

"Carina? Carina, my child? The babies? The babies! Patris et filii! Call a doctor! Call a doctor!" she shouted, pulling her rosary from the bowels of her habit and furiously beginning Hail Maries.
"I am a doctor," Knut said as he reached the table. "But it'd be better if there were two of us. She's having twins." He then dragged Carina' chair away from the table, with much difficulty. He quickly opened his bag and reached for his medical stuff (always ready for situations like these...) Hurriedly placing a latex glove on his right hand, he lifted his wife's maternity dress up and her underwear down... no big feat actually, in addition to consciously blocking everyone else's view. "Il benecho, m'amore," he comforted her as she started to scream at the pain. "Gli noi la natu pestrece la dolore gecho." He inserted his gloved finger into his wife's vagina, and proceeded to do an internal examination. "Cervix fully dilated, fully effaced. Station at +1, cephalic presentation, right occiput posterior, brow attitude," Knut murmured as he switched back to doctor mode. The baby is starting to descend into the birth canal. No way can they bring her to the hospital... she has to deliver here. Now.

he then turned to Carol "They might need our help, let's go over and see if we can do anything."
"Let's go," she said as she started to lead Richard to her boss, now literally screaming in pain.

"Knut, Knut..." she muttered as her uterus contracted strongly, pushing the baby more into the birth canal. "Aaaargh... Me della lasceche tu fuchece riescal me," she hissed at her husband as the pain spiked up. Carol stood there, red-faced at her boss' words. Good thing she said it in Nord-Brutlandese.

Knut, ignoring his wife's utterance, said, "Carol, go get the blue bag up in the office. Simon knows where it is. Those are the birthing stuff. Please go, quick."

Carol went out of the Bar to get the things, and Knut finally found a couch in an isolated corner of the Bar. "Noi justi storrecho tu passe sofo," Knut whispered in Carina's ear, and then gave her a kiss on her sweaty forehead. He tried to lift her up, but she was too heavy. He then saw Richard. "Can you help me bring her to that couch?" he asked him.
- - - - - -
Il benecho, m'amore. = It's going to be alright my love.
Gli noi la natu pestrece la dolore gecho. = When the babies are out, the pain will be gone.
Me della lasceche tu fuchece riescal me! = I will not dare translate this. alright, alright, here is the translation: I will not let you fuck me again!
Noi justi storrecho tu passe sofo. = We will just move to that couch.

Charlotte Enters again for another Duff.

Well, today and last night were hectic days of the government. Yesterday I thought the debate was low-key. Now the whole country are up in arms with their votes. Turnout could be up to 99%. Although the discussion on UN affairs is becoming better publicized, I have a feeling that Marayevkohara K. D could be making a fool of herself if this surprise visit to Intelligenstan does not go well. The plane is about to land in the capital's international airport at 7:45 pm tonight.

Sandy Maria Martinez Skade (http://img408.imageshack.us/img408/145/sandymartinez5ou7.jpg), newest member of the Ariddian Isles' diplomatic delegation, walked into the Strangers' Bar for the first time, somewhat tentatively. She had been warned at length about giant spiders, destructor bunnies and drunken ambassadors, but the place was so famous in diplomatic circles that she really did need to see it for herself.

In her hand, she held a small plastic bag containing a number of marzipan babies (http://img146.imageshack.us/img146/2781/marzipanbabieszm5.png), a kind gift from Pierre-Jean Delormebleu (http://209.85.135.104/search?q=cache:GMZ57GVkv7oJ:ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Pierre-Jean_Delormebleu+Pierre-Jean_Delormebleu&hl=fr&ct=clnk&cd=1&gl=fr). He seemed to be part of the Ariddian delegation (http://img216.imageshack.us/img216/5063/unspeaker7ai6.jpg), but nobody was quite sure what his function was.

She looked towards the bar, but her gaze was immediately drawn to the woman visibly giving birth on a nearby couch.

Oops. Seems I chose a bad moment...

One of ShogunKhan's diplomats, a Wawi (Warrior of Wisdom), staggers in with a bottle of Gin, "Where's that Evoinian dude?" in slurred speech. "I wanna buys him a few drinked".

No one answers him as he decides to sit on the floor, "I'll wait for him here while the room spins my head."

"One Yeldan Whiskey with a Fine Yeldan Ale back, please."

Ben Royce had heard enough of the lackluster oratory efforts happening in the debate over the new Ban International Trafficking resolution. He'd honestly heard better public speaking from a group of rats with throat cancer.

'nother pint of Duff please. Here's my Visa credit card

"Grapefruit tea, please," Sandy said as she reached the bar, placing the small plastic bag down atop the bar's surface.

Moonbeam ‘the’ Queen walked into the bar. Frankly, he was a little off-balance: both from the alcohol he’d already imbibed within the last ten minutes and the befuddling concept of a bar that actually let him in, what with looking about twelve. He’d heard a lot about the place, it was true. It hadn’t been precisely about destructor bunnies, drunken congressmen, the peak of man’s intellectual capability, or any of that sort of jazz, but more a detailed examination on the subject of ‘olives’. This place had olives. Olives, he’d been told, were required.

He sat down at the bar.

“Uh, a Jack and Coke.”

He paused.

“…with olives, please.”

“Uh, a Jack and Coke.”

He paused.

“…with olives, please.”

"I have more professional self-respect than to put olives in a concoction like that," said Neville snappishly, deliberately spilling the drink on the newcomer's hand and pointedly snapping the lid shut on the jar of olives.

"Vi, can you get some more of these jars with clip lids?" he continued. "I don't want to stop supplying nibblies, but we've gotta make 'em a bit harder to get at. We're running low."

"I wouldn't have thought the monkey ate that much," Violet said, shooing the bar's itinerant simian away.

"It doesn't. It's these sanctions," Neville sighed. "Ever since that drug trafficking law -- honestly, you'd think they'd have seen it coming. The minute a non-capital-punishment nation catches a drug trafficker and refuses to execute him, pow! All the capital-punishment nations slap on sanctions because the penalty is too lenient. We're running out of everything -- even Fine Yeldan Cheesesticks (TM)!"

"Is that why you're being so choosy with the new cocktail, then?" Violet queried. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Neville: you're giving it only to the nations that voted against. I thought Barlords were supposed to be neutral?"

"Neutral, yeah, but not imprisoned!" Neville snorted. "Look, I'm not a nation. But each of the ambassadors is, technically. Like, the bit of the bar floor they're standing on is officially the territory of their nation, no? So if I give 'em alcohol I'm trafficking a drug across their national borders. Now, if they've actually ordered the grog, that's fine, because it's state-sanctioned trade; but if I give it to them without their asking, it's trafficking. But the cocktail's still in the Beta stage, and I've got to test it out on people. So I only give it to ones I think won't object even if it is illegal."

Violet eyed him sourly. "Thank god you're not a delegate," she said. "With that sort of bush-lawyering, they'd chuck you out before you even got in. So, what're you doing with that cocktail, anyway? It's different every time you make it."

"Ah, but it's not, exactly," the BarLord said. "I always use the same three basic ingredients, I just vary the quantities. Like, I sort of change it for each individual?"

Enlightenment dawned. "You take the original base and you change it just a bit. And you reckon it's illegal under current UN laws. Neville, I bet you're calling it ..."

"... the Amendment," they chorused.

Damn. It looked like this whole 'order a drink thing' was harder than it looked. This was Moonbeam's cue to think fast.

Ardchoilleans;13260952']"I have more professional self-respect than to put olives in a concoction like that," said Neville snappishly, deliberately spilling the drink on the newcomer's hand and pointedly snapping the lid shut on the jar of olives.

...

"Is that why you're being so choosy with the new cocktail, then?" Violet queried. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Neville: you're giving it only to the nations that voted against. I thought Barlords were supposed to be neutral?"



"Hey," he asked, trying not to sprout a cartoon light bulb above his head - and in his current state he'd think nothing of it - "I voted against. What's in that cocktail?"

(OOC: Deepest apologies, Kenny. See also my grovelling PM. Folks, this (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13186642&postcount=6763) is what this post's about. {Hell, it's only been a month ... })

.... Through it all Sammy continued to hold Avaya's hand and look up at her, awaiting her response, calmly blowing away a piece of down that had stuck itself to his upper lip.

"Oh, Sammy, yes! YES!" she squealed, wrapping her arms round him for a kiss to seal the pact.

Having an armful of affectionate nubility fling herself at you while you are posed on one knee and simultaneously coping with demented pigeons and off-the-planet musicians moving in on your personal space would be enough to unbalance any man. Sammy, of course, was not just any man; but gravity is no respecter of character.

Avaya, however, was, and was also very devout. What's more, she lived in the southern hemisphere. Thus, she had just come back from the unbridled celebration of Beltane, a time of joy, fertility and a fair bit of houghmagandie, and her soul was still alight with the holy traditions of the season. So when she found herself sprawled on a flat surface with a nice young man whose character she respected intensely, and who had just given her an engagement ring, and whom she proposed to take home to Mamma and jump the broomstick with ... well, matters proceeded apace.

Dicey smiled down benevolently on the couple, thinking, as any successful mentor would, how quiet little Avaya had really come on since the lass began working for her. Lost in self-congratulation, she paid no direct attention to what was going on until a raucous "Gedda room, why doncher!" drew her thoughts back to the entangled duo before her.

With a shocked gasp, she looked around the room, seeing one gloating gaze after another. The audience, lasciviously licking its collective lips, was really getting into the spirit of the occasion. Their horns practically crackled with energy, their twitching tails and lolling tongues underlining their interest, their cloven hooves drumming their appreciation.

"Goddess, she's not using Protection!" Dicey screamed. "Avaya, how many times have I told you, always cast a circle! Always! Now look what you've done! You've summoned up every elemental daemon within coo-ee, and they're not bound! They'll get loose among the customers! Oh, quick!"

<<Bast! Our idiot apprentice has opened a portal in the Bar!>> was enough mental summons to bring her Feline Advisor to her side, and the great Cat pounced instantly into action. For a while.

"Dicey, have you noticed something?" he said, finally. "We haven't got them all, and it's beyond doubt some of them got away, but ... nothing's different."

It was true. Demons of impurity, lust, jealousy, envy, spite and every other earthy passion might be walking among them; unseen powers might be urging them to cheat, lie, connive and backstab; but the behaviour of the UN representatives was entirely unchanged.

"Have the demons met their match, d'you think?" Dicey asked.

"No way; they've met their masters," Bast said. "Amateurs like that can't teach anything to the professionals."

Adjourning to the bar, filled with a righteous glow of admiration for their multi-talented colleagues, they settled down with the curious cocktails Neville pressed upon them.

"Hey," he asked, trying not to sprout a cartoon light bulb above his head - and in his current state he'd think nothing of it - "I voted against. What's in that cocktail?"

"Professional secret," Neville said snootily. But he gave the Quadalingo delegate the Tropical version of the cocktail. After all, he looked like he was just a kid. He'd probably enjoy all the pineapple and other sweet stuff.

Recognising that Dicey and Bast had more sophisticated tastes, of course, he carefully doled out an olive apiece.

*Two rather odd gentlemen walked into the bar. One of them in a black suit with sunglasses, the other dressed as an executioner (which is what he was). They were Sintar Maxem, and Bane Wiffle. Bane was the newly appointed UN Ambassador to Zarwuon froods. Sintar was the former aide to the Great Prophet Zarquon as well as the Secretary of Interior Broom Closets back home. Bane checked his axe at the door as well as all the other weapons on his person, Sintar had none. Bane thought it unwise for a man not to carry a weapon on him. After the two had made it through security, they headed towards the bar where they noticed Moonbeam was alread seated. They chose to sit down a few stools beyond Moonbeam.*

"Oh Great Bar-Lord," Sintar announced,"today is my associates first day at the UN and I can think of no other way to celebrate that than with a drink. A drink with olives, doesn't matter what it is. You see he fears any drink that doesn't have an olive in it as his mother suckled him on olive oil as an infant. Do you think you could oblidge him? And I'll have some Yeldin Cheesesticks™ if you don't mind."

Ardchoilleans;13261226']"Dicey, have you noticed something?" he said, finally. "We haven't got them all, and it's beyond doubt some of them got away, but ... nothing's different."

It was true. Demons of impurity, lust, jealousy, envy, spite and every other earthy passion might be walking among them; unseen powers might be urging them to cheat, lie, connive and backstab; but the behaviour of the UN representatives was entirely unchanged.

"Have the demons met their match, d'you think?" Dicey asked.

"No way; they've met their masters," Bast said. "Amateurs like that can't teach anything to the professionals."

While the jaded regulars of the NSUN diplomatic corps were an easy match for the demons Avaya accidentally summoned, the line of Kawaiian pilgrims to the Shrine of the Manifestation had no such protective callouses on their souls. So began a curious duel, as the old nekomusume who monitored the shrine suddenly found herself confronting pilgrims acting in a collection of wild and ecchi manners. Their carefully mastered self-control seemed to have fled them, resulting in a scene of violence, debauchery, and religious frenzy.

Fortunately, nekomusume are used to keeping pilgrims in line, and a few well-placed blows with her paper-streamered purification wand over the head of a rioting pilgrim usually brought them back to their senses. One of the largest mass exorcisms in Kawaiian history was underway.

Felix Dzerzhinsky enters the Strangers' Bar and is immediately attacked by a monkey. Felix writhes and gyrates, striking furiously at the animal in an effort to dislodge it. The monkey (which answers to the name Angus) shrieks with rage as he bites, scratches and claws Felix about the face, head and shoulders.

The two lurch and careen about the room, knocking over tables, spilling drinks and bumping into the jukebox causing it to play "Panic", by The Smiths.

"Aaaargh! Infernal beast!

Felix reaches (with great difficulty) his ankle holster and manages to draw his pistol...which has now turned into a super-soaker water pistol thanks to the bar's Acme anti-weaponry system. He fires the water pistol in several directions and at several angles, managing to soak himself and everything else within range, except the monkey.

He leaps atop the bar and runs its entire length, shouting profanities in Russian, Yeldan and English. Finally, he comes to the Shrine Of The Manifestation and the nekomusume.

"Dear Lady, help me! Rid me of this fiendish creature!"

The nekomusume hits Felix squarely upside the head with her purification wand, sending him to the floor and the monkey screaming off to another, Felixless, part of the bar.

"Thank you! Thank you! Here, I give you all the money I have for the maintenance of the shrine."

Felix hands the nekomusume an enormous wad of New Yeldan Pound notes, bows deeply, then staggers to the bar.

"Neville! Neville! Help me! I need alcohol for my stomach, my head and my wounds. Quickly! I must have 27 vodka martinis, with olives. Make them to go, please. And some bandages. Yes, I think I should have these wounds bandaged, don't you? And vodka! What I mean is...extra vodka, not the vodka in the martinis of course. For my wounds. and to calm my nerves. I was nearly eaten by a monkey! You saw this, yes? Is that monkey rabid? I wonder should I get tetanus shot? Why do you let that beast run amok like that? I recall a speech by Lenin in which he said of monkeys....."

Trying to dry out his hair before it frizzed up, Moonbeam realised that he had clearly been outclassed on the 'crazy' front. This was impressive, as in his time he had managed to headbutt a ceiling lamp, convince himself that Elvis faked the Moon Landings to trick the Illuminati into releasing a blueprint for a perpetual motion machine, and interpret Antarctic Oasis' Stupidest Police Chases as a comment on the metaphysical crisis of male self-consciousness in the twenty-first century.

Still, he had been outclassed, and this he had to respect. Time to replan.

Keelhaul is casualy sipping his pina colada (with obligatory little paper umbrella) when his mobile phone rings, giving everyone the pleasure of hearing that bloodstonian classic "on the good ship lollipop".

"Hello, Keelhaul here, what can I do for you?"

"Woohoo, someone else got promoted?"

"Aww, can I at least promoted my penguin to the job then?"

He turns a very pale shade of white, "Her?!!, Here?!!!", he panics and runs out of the bar screaming "Arrrrrr!!"

Moments later...

Kari Kagrosi walks into Bar, "Alright, where is that grog-snarfing, penguin-loving bilge-rat, Keelhaul?"

"Aww, he left.. ...at least he left his penguin". She opens a window and executes a quite brilliant punting of his penguin.

A small explosion can be heard from the habour. "Oops, must of hit the Bloodstonian Office", she smiles.

"Bar keep, a dozen gin and tonics with olives, without the gin and tonic please."

Exorcisms, monkeys, demons, and pigeons. Sandy wrang the dampness from the water pistol spray out of her clothing, and took a sip of her grapefruit tea.

So far, her first few minutes in the Strangers' Bar were proving far less chaotic than expected.

With a shocked gasp, [Dicey] looked around the room, seeing one gloating gaze after another. The audience, lasciviously licking its collective lips, was really getting into the spirit of the occasion. Their horns practically crackled with energy, their twitching tails and lolling tongues underlining their interest, their cloven hooves drumming their appreciation.

"Goddess, she's not using Protection!" Dicey screamed.Sammy could not have been more elated at that moment, his love having consented to his proposal of marriage, though in her over-eagerness she had knocked him backward to the floor and bumped his head. This was quite possibly the happiest moment of his life, and nothing could pull him away from it -- nothing, that is, except rude shrieking from Dicey Reilly, interrupting their fairy tale kiss, forcing him to open an eye in order to reprove her with a withering look. What he saw instead was enough to rend his very soul from his mortal coil. What appeared to be a dread host of the netherworld had inexplicably (though little is explicable in the Strangers' Bar) descended upon them, surrounded them, playing a lustful audience, and seemingly closing in on them. Right then, in that moment of terror, the first thought that occurred to Sammy was to protect his girl from their visitors' cruel machinations, and he did the only thing a chivalrous man would do under such circumstances: roll over so he could be on top. The ambassador was, after all, a gentleman ....

"Dear Lady, help me! Rid me of this fiendish creature!"

The nekomusume hits Felix squarely upside the head with her purification wand, sending him to the floor and the monkey screaming off to another, Felixless, part of the bar.Unfortunately, that Felixless part of the bar just happened at that moment to be occupied by Susa's face, its owner already rather frustrated at his fruitless search (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=678&view=findpost&p=7140725) of UN Headquarters -- not even blowing up the third-floor corridor outside The Palentine's offices had yielded any results -- and now the anger accelerated to mayhem, as the monkey closed its claws around his new host's head and neck. Instantly blinded, the Kennyite screamed, grabbing at the creature and twirling around in a vain attempt to liberate the primate from his grasp. Just then, he tripped over the amorous couple on the floor, and fell backward to join them, and at last, the monkey let go, sliding across the floor to some other Felixless part of the bar.

Barely noticing the embraced duo at his feet, Susa gazed upward and found the bar, immediately scampering up (inadvertently in the process kicking Sammy in the ribs) to seize another opportunity to expedite Lord Julius' request. "Yo Jimmy," he called out, "a vodka martini with olive!"

If Jimmy had cast the beer-swilling sleaze an odd stare at the unusual request, Susa did not notice it, though the latter was sure to acknowledge, and criticize, every aspect of Jimmy's martini-making: "No, no, you're doing it all wrong. Why are you putting it in a martini glass? It's supposed to be in a slightly dirty beer mug, that way you get more alcohol ... and it's supposed to have pineapple chunks on the brim, and be some bright tropical color ... with little umbrellas sticking out. And why are you putting vodka in it? God God, man, have you ever made a martini before?! Here, here, just let me do it," he suggested, seizing some of Jimmy's liquor bottles, and ignoring what was sure to be an angry and indignant gaze from the barman.

"Now, what I need from you," Susa explained, "is a couple shots of whiskey, some food coloring, a cool glass of turnip juice, a can of motor oil, a martini-shaker, a whole lot of beer, and a Carmen Miranda hat. Oh, and hand me that jar of olives, will you?"

No sooner had the Kennyite acquired the olives, however, than he jumped down from his stool and raced for the door, hooting like Daffy Duck.

Felix returns from the General Assembly and continues his re-telling of the Lenin speech corcerning Monkeys.

"...as I was saying earlier, Comrade Lenin concluded by stating that a sub-committee should be formed within the People's Committee For The Study Of Primate Behaviour with the goal of adapting these monkeys for military and police.....uh, where's Neville?"

Noticing that Neville is nowhere in sight, Felix turns to Jimmy and enquires about the order he placed earlier.

"Is my 'to go' order consisting of 27 vodka martinis with olives, an extra bottle of vodka and bandages ready?

Jimmy brings the bottle of vodka, the bangages and the 27 vodka martinis in carry-out cups and places them on the bar. He explains that the martinis had to be made with cocktail onions because Susa has taken the Bar's supply of olives.

*sigh* "Very well then. I shall have to acquire the olives somewhere else."

Felix takes the bottle of vodka, the 27 martinis and the bandages and wanders forlornly out of the bar.

[OOC: Actually I'm going to let Ard determine how much of the bar's olive supply was raided with that theft -- and how easy it would have been for Susa to escape -- although your posts are pretty funny so I say keep them as is. :p

[P.S. How does Felix just carry 27 martinis out of the bar?]

[OOC: Actually I'm going to let Ard determine how much of the bar's olive supply was raided with that theft -- and how easy it would have been for Susa to escape -- although your posts are pretty funny so I say keep them as is. :p

[P.S. How does Felix just carry 27 martinis out of the bar?]
OOC: They are in carryout cups! Probably in a bag or something. :p

[P.S. How does Felix just carry 27 martinis out of the bar?]

OOC: Technically, since they have cocktail onions in them instead of olives, they're Gibsons not martinis.

His highly trained Barlordian senses alerting him to the utterly improbable sight of Felix Edmundovich Dzerzhinsky wandering forlornly, Neville reluctantly tore himself from the learned and enlightening discussion he was having with several of the more intelligent delegates (The Ethical and Philosophical Implications of Cocktail Naming Conventions Being Contingent on Ingredients) and began to question his shocked colleagues.

"Ban Susa from the Bar!" Jimmy urged, as he finished the sorry tale of pillage and deceit. "Let him never darken our doors again!"

"Don't be silly, Jimmy," Violet soothed. "How would we get back at him if we didn't get him back?"

"Precisely. Let us lull him into a false sense of security and then strike!" agreed Neville. "Or possibly never do anything, and let it prey on his mind as he waits for the other shoe to fall.

"In the meantime, I shall open the last jar of olives. There are but 42 left," he noted, "a very significant number. I must solemnly charge you both to distribute these wisely, for the greater good of the Bar, and not to allow personal feelings to sway your decisions. I cannot over-emphasise how important unimpeachable impartiality is in this matter ..."

"W00t!!! Defcon 1!!! Red Alert!!! :mp5::mp5::mp5: !!!11!!"* Jimmy chortled.

"Ah ... Jimmy, dear, why don't you take this to poor Comrade Felix," said Violet, placing a precious oval in his palm and folding his fingers around it. "Quick, go after him!"

Bemused, Neville watched the notoriously unco-ordinated Jimmy speed eagerly after the cardboard-tray-carrying, 27-Gibson-burdened Felix.

" ... complete transparency of decision-maki ... Violet, was that wise?"

"Woman's wisdom, Neville dear, woman's wisdom," Violet said sweetly. "As is this." She ruffled the hair of the boyish Quadalingo delegate and slipped him two of the precious fruit(s). "Neville is sorry for teasing you, honey," she told him. "Or if he isn't, he will be, I promise. But you're not gonna get that one past me, sister," she added, turning a disenchanted eye on the penguin-punting Kari Kagrosi.

"You can have mine, if you like," offered Bast. "I didn't lick it."

It was nasty, he knew. But he felt humans, even Neville and Violet, should be thwarted occasionally for their own good. Besides, it would show if the Bloodstone Kay delegate was speciesist. Some people went funny around Cats.

*(OOC: If you're wondering how Jimmy could 'say' the mp5 smiley, what he actually said was "Pew-pew-pew-pew-pew!!!" very fast, in a high-pitched, extremely irritating voice.)

He knew it. Moonbeam always had. Planning got you nowhere. It was only was all preparation went out of the window that something desperately fortunate could happen.

"Uh, thanks," he said, trying not to sound of a hair-ruffleble age. "You might just have saved me there."

And without another word, he nipped quietly out of the bar, trying to keep a low profile and puff out his chest simultaneously, which simply gave him the look of a stunted Neanderthal.

An unimpressive man in his mid-thirties arrived, looking nonetheless very pleased with himself; so happy, in fact, that the lurid display of pre-sexual congress unfolding on the floor, the psychotic Kennyite doves, the burping mariachi, the pregnant woman in labor, and all the scheming delegates tripping over each other to get some olives didn't seem to faze him one bit. His mood didn't even darken as the same young man who had welcomed him to the bar before by giving him a swift kick to the nads rushed by, a pilfered jar of olives in hand, saw the newcomer, uttered "You again?", and quickly gave his groin another drubbing before darting out the door.

"Neville, my good man!" Shemp called out as he approached the counter. "In celebration of our proposal passing the General Assembly, drinks for the next few hours are on me!" Just then his cell phone rang; he looked down to note the name "MRS. SCHUTTE" on the preview window. He sighed. "Hold that thought a moment, Neville," he said, "I have to take this call."

Loud squawking could be heard issuing from the earpiece. "Yes. Mrs. Schutte," he said dreadfully. "I've been getting your messages. ... You want to ... what? ... But they've been so nice to me! I've been kicked in the nuts on several non-consecutive occasions -- once just a minute ago -- which is a sure sign of respect in these halls! It's only when they defenestrate you that you've gone too far! ... But you-- ... They passed our resolution, Mrs. Schutte, and yet you still want ..."

As Shemp continued to drone into his phone, the far more animated, that is, shrieking, voice on the other end was clearly audible throughout. "Alright, Mrs. Schutte," Shemp finally concluded with certain defeat, "I'll come home." Sadly Shemp clapped his phone shut. "And make mine a double, Neville," he said, "it'll probably be my last."

"Aw, sick! A cell phone!" said the nut-kicking delegate, who had apparently returned unnoticed. "I could use one of these! Yoink!" And he snatched the phone, kicking Shemp yet again in the crotch before disappearing out a side door.

*Sintar wasn't particularly happy with the turn of events. The others had already gotten their olives. No matter, he had a plan. Pulling a phone from his pocket and dialing a number.*

"Inspector? I need an immediate transport back to Zarquon Froods. I don't care what it takes, get me there now.*click*

Bane, get back to the Assembly hall. I've got work to do."

*Sintar left the building and boarded a helicopter waiting for him out front.*

"Eh, the olive is not for me anyway, so I'll take it", she said,"As for the whole penguin-punting thing, that penguin was pure evil, I mean it followed Keelhaul everywhere, it was bound to be up to something, I just pre-empted it's inevitable strike".

After that non-too convincing explanation of penguin-puntage, she made her way out of the bar.

Ardchoilleans;13265891']"Ah ... Jimmy, dear, why don't you take this to poor Comrade Felix," said Violet, placing a precious oval in his palm and folding his fingers around it. "Quick, go after him!"
OOC: By the time Jimmy went looking for him, Felix had already liberated a jar of olives from Sen. Sulla's liquor cabinet. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13265024&postcount=173) We'll assune that Jimmy found him sometime shortly after that.

Jimmy catches up with Felix as he is crossing the parking lot, heading for the portal in the Yeldan bunker.

"Ah, Jimmy! Thank you! I shall add this olive to the jar I acquired from Senator Sulla's cabinet. Please, send my regards to Violet and Neville. Also, you might consider putting up a warning notice concerning that monkey, for liability purposes. I must go now!"

All the recent excitement of the goings on the bar had finally caught up with Sir Albert, he carefully placed his pint glass on the table, leaned back and let out what must surely be a world record notable belch of epic length and volume.

The Guardian trio, slightly befuddled over the apparent importance of the odd small fruit (and ears ringing from Sir Albert's chorus), communicated silently for 3.14 seconds. Kyle then stood and walked to Neville. "Uh. If you'd like, we could duplicate one of those for you a few million times." He zoned out for a few more microseconds of communication. "Or... if you'd like, we could get a fabricator for you."

:D
Is NSDAR still around? I was disturbed that he compared both of us as being of a similar mind. Did I miss anything interesting? :p

:D
Is NSDAR still around? I was disturbed that he compared both of us as being of a similar mind. Did I miss anything interesting? :p

Sen. Sulla's secretary Velma spoke up,
"Well apparently Sammy and Dicey's apprentece got engaged, a bunch of demons infected the bar causing the Kawaiian shrine maiden to peform some exorcisms, Felix was attacked by a monkey named Angus, there was a run on olives for some reason, Sir Albert is still here, and some lady is going into labor. In other words, not much. Just the usual suspects."

:D:D:D

The old nekomusume stared at the bundle of notes, quite surprised. New Yeldan Pounds were worth about two and a half unicoes apiece, and it was a thick wad. Well, now I can finally pay off the Shrine's tab, she thought. All of that Kawaiian Oolong from Neville's stocks was beginning to add up.

After giving one final thwack with her purification wand to the last pilgrim lurking about and making rude proposals to the women standing in line to see the Shrine, she headed over towards the bar, only to notice Sammy and Avaya.... what on EARTH were those two doing?

Horrified, the old Kawaiian nun turned away and headed back to the Shrine to double-check on the line of pilgrims. Paying off the bar tab could wait.

Sir Albert reached back for his pint, deep in thought, reflecting on how that belch tasted different than usual. 'got to sort out that new black pudding supplier...by eck'.

A tentative knock on the door, a hesitant glance around the edge, a stumbling shuffle through the doorway. Hari Desana, Dasri ambassador to the UN, entered the bar. A newly formed nation like his didn't have a large say at this level, indeed Dasri had yet to formally enter the United Nations, and he was still very unsure of what he was doing at this august body.

He'd listened to a few discussions so far, but didn't want to put his neck out and say anything. Most of these countries could swallow Dasri without even noticing, why should they pay attention to a wet-behind-the-ears ambassador? So he'd wandered around the halls, vaguely wondering whether he'd ever get an office, when he finally chanced upon the Strangers Bar.

"Er... hello?" he began. Truth be told, the only reason he'd been chosen for the UN position was because he had passable English, and no-one back at home thought anyone from any other countries would ever bother to learn Srika. "Could I please have a... what do you call it... a rum and cola?"

Sen. Sulla walked into the Bar, seemingly no worse for wear after his self defenestration into the reflecting pool a few days ago. He looks at Sammy and Avaya and muttered to himself,
"I've told Neville that no good comes from serving tea in a bar. but would he listen? Noooooooooooooooooooo!"

looking around he notices Velma so he smiles walks over to the bar and addresses Neville's breathless assistant,
"Jimmy, my boy. Two Wild Turkeys on the rocks, and place the Dasri Ambassador's drink on my tab. I'm feeling like being nice to the poor new souls visiting the festering snakepit....err.... UN General Assembly today."

Walking over to Velma's table(and not knowing of Jimmy's recent athletic feat), he thought to himself,
"Jimmy best get some rest. The poor lad is winded from making drinks."

"Oh! Uh, thank you!" Hari was astounded - an act of genuine kindness? Could this indeed be a place where goodwill was observed? Not much was to be seen outside the doors, but within seemed to be a different matter.

He looked around. There seemed to be two bar staff, an older, more worldly one, as a young'un looking a bit worse for wear. Then there seemed to be a woman going into labour, but since no-one else seemed too concerned he decided not to inquire too closely.

He wandered over towards his recent benefactor. Not having any idea of national dress, colours, or even flags (Dasri had only got a flag when informed that that was what countries do), he had no idea of who this person was. With his limited grasp on English, he was a bit concerned to think about large birds being pushed onto rocks, but relaxed upon seeing it looked like just another strangely named drink.

"Uh, yes. Thankyou for your help. My name is, that is, I'm from Dasri, the new ambassador to the UN, I am. Well, that's what I got told two days ago. Hari Desana, did I say my name was?"

"Glad to meet you. I'm the good but slightly unwholesone Ambassador from the Palentine, Sen. Horatio Sulla, and this lovely lady is my secretary Velma Wong.", replied the Senator, as he was lighting a cigarette. The raven haired and well endowed lady took a drag from her Lucky Strike and made a non-commital noise towards the Dasarian.

"Ah, so you've been in these august halls for two days or so. Well you'll soon get the hang of the place. Don't be too concerned about the behavior you might see on the assembly floor. Apart from the Veceleraptor that was wandering around, the other ambassadors are harmless.", continued the good senator after he took a drag of his Lucky before adding waith a smile,
"Well Felix can be dangerous if provoked, but the worse that could happen is getting defenestrated."

Mirah Leinenkugel, the Assistant Ambassador of the Twafflonian Department of Foreign Relations, waits at a table against a wall of the Strangers' Bar, reading over yesterday's issue of The Watchdog, a Twafflonian newspaper.

"The worst that could happen? Aren't we, even now, on the..." Hari counts quickly on his fingers, "thirteenth floor? That's a pretty bad drop."

Carol returned to the Stranger's Bar, finding her boss on the couch, shouting in pain. Dr. Knut noticed her. "Sgecu l'iziu hoci." She rushed to the couch where her boss lay and opened to box. "Dassecu l'ampolo di "lidocaine", sgecu l'ago lungà di calibro-22, inserecu l'ago inte l'ampolo, e riempece l'eriglio untri l'ampolo s'nullia," Dr. Knut Spicolli instructed her quickly, as the baby began to crown. There was no time for a pudendal block. This baby had to be delivered without anesthesia.

After a few frantic moments of searching, she found the ampoule of lidocaine, and struggled to insert the needle into the ampoule's tip with her shaking hand. She could see the head of the baby literally pop out of the opening. She had inserted the needle into the ampoule and withdrew its contents as Knut delivered the shoulders and the body of a crying baby boy. He clamped and cut the umbilical cord, got the baby's first vital signs, laid it on top of Carina's tummy. The baby instinctively searched for Carina's nipple and latched on.

But they weren't done yet. There was still another baby inside......

"The worst that could happen? Aren't we, even now, on the..." Hari counts quickly on his fingers, "thirteenth floor? That's a pretty bad drop."

"But the Vastian Memorial Reflecting Pool breaks the fall nicely, although the water is a bit bracing this time of year.", replied the good but slightly unwholesome senator with a smile.

"Just make sure your suit is not dry clean only.", added Velma with a smirk.

"That was a slight miscalculation on my part, my dear lady. But the theatrics was well worth it. Most of the delegates have never seen a perfect Triple Lindy.", he replied to his secretary.

Generally the worst that could happens involves a mother in law and frequently does happen.

Carol returned to the Stranger's Bar, finding her boss on the couch, shouting in pain. Dr. Knut noticed her. "Sgecu l'iziu hoci." She rushed to the couch where her boss lay and opened to box. "Dassecu l'ampolo di "lidocaine", sgecu l'ago lungà di calibro-22, inserecu l'ago inte l'ampolo, e riempece l'eriglio untri l'ampolo s'nullia," Dr. Knut Spicolli instructed her quickly, as the baby began to crown. There was no time for a pudendal block. This baby had to be delivered without anesthesia.

After a few frantic moments of searching, she found the ampoule of lidocaine, and struggled to insert the needle into the ampoule's tip with her shaking hand. She could see the head of the baby literally pop out of the opening. She had inserted the needle into the ampoule and withdrew its contents as Knut delivered the shoulders and the body of a crying baby boy. He clamped and cut the umbilical cord, got the baby's first vital signs, laid it on top of Carina's tummy. The baby instinctively searched for Carina's nipple and latched on.

But they weren't done yet. There was still another baby inside......

"You know," Bob said to no one in particular, "there's a hospital on the 12th floor that would be perfect for someone to give birth in."

...(Sammy) did the only thing a chivalrous man would do under such circumstances: roll over so he could be on top. The ambassador was, after all, a gentleman ....

"Geddoff me, ya moron!" Avaya growled, wriggling out from under and hoping she was causing some damage in the process. This was all Sammy's fault! If he hadn't totally blissed her out of all sanity, she'd have automatically cast a triple circle. It wasn't as if she didn't know what his kisses could do ...

The thought, while softening her heart, made her embarrassment greater still. She hadn't done anything like this since that excruciatingly shameful day in Kindergarten. Tugging her robes into respectability, she cast an apprehensive glance towards her bosses at the Bar.

They were laughing and idly zapping the odd demon, apparently unconcerned about anything. She was comforted to realise that the Bar regulars had proven too decadent already for a simple demoniacal invasion to have much effect.

But, well, of course her superiors wouldn't be saying anything in public. Still, she knew what she was in for. Last time she goofed up Dicey had threatened to make her Minister for Foreign Affairs. She'd be lucky if she came out of this with anything less than the Deputy Presidency.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of what that would do to her family, having a relative condemned to Government. Oh, surely this wouldn't affect her cousin Thierry's career? They couldn't hold her idiocy against him ... could they?

And, as if trouble with Dicey wasn't bad enough, she was really in for it from Bast. She knew exactly what would happen. He'd look at her with that special Cat gaze and say he was disappointed in her. She'd seen that happen once to one of her friends -- she said it felt like she'd let a kitten starve to death.

Ah, well, best to get it over with. Bracing her shoulders, she headed for the bar. The worst had happened, it was time to face the music.

"WAAAH!"

The outraged cry of a newborn human smashed through her defences. Oh, Goddess, she'd forgotten about the woman giving birth! There was an innocent in the bar! And demons still unchecked!

Desperate, preparing spells in her head, she raced towards the sound ...

Quick! dib the bib into some whiskey or wine or even beer, and give it to the baby as a soother, it'll calm him down smartly! That's how we calm down our crying babies, even newborns!

Oh and a round of drinks to all present to celebrate the new birth!!!

"You know," Bob said to no one in particular, "there's a hospital on the 12th floor that would be perfect for someone to give birth in."

"I'm not sure if there's any more time." answered Richard

Richard saw the newborn at Carina's bosom and turned to Carol

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked inquisitively

Biddulph Strathfield steps into the bar. It looks a little messier than last time... perhaps a little bloodier, but he pays no attention, instead heading to the table where his assistant ambassador, Mirah Leinenkugel, is sitting with a newspaper.

"Anything worth mentioning?" he asks, slipping into a seat next to her.

Mirah: "Three-headed bat dogs are plaguing the northern border towns, according to three eye-witnesses who claimed to be professional lion tamers."

Strathfield smiles. It's good to know that some things never change. "Anything accurate worth mentioning?"

Mirah: "Umm... not really. There was an attempted writers' strike, but most major players in the entertainment industry responded with consumer contests and write-in rewards. Perspicacious Pictures recruited some writers straight from university. Lucky kids."

Strathfield glances at the woman giving birth. "How long has that been going on?"

Mirah: "Huh? Oh, I don't know. Been ignoring it." She turns a page in the newspaper.

"Great. Well, I'm going to see if the bar's operational. Be back in a moment."

Mirah grunts her unconcern, and Strathfield steps up to the bar, wondering if he should just jump over and get what he wants. He has the appropriate number of Twafflonian IOUs ready for a mug of porter as he peers at the bottles across the counter.

Alan the UGL representative decided to unwind at Stranger's bar..Stepping in the sight that greeted him was well...Surprising...apperantly anything can happen here in this bar...He quickly sauntered onto the bar and ordered a beer straight up chilled

Alan the UGL representative decided to unwind at Stranger's bar..Stepping in the sight that greeted him was well...Surprising...apperantly anything can happen here in this bar...He quickly sauntered onto the bar and ordered a beer straight up chilled

Egads man! Don't you know that chilled beer destroys the wonderful hop flavors!?! Let me buy you another beer, room temperature and compare the two, yes!

Sir Albert nods appreciatively at the wise words of the honoured delegate from ShogunKhan 'cold pints...ah blames them Southerners".

Not to be one to let a good piece of advice go out in the world alone, Sir Albert spat the somewhat large lump of phlegm from his throat and slurred "ere, lads and lasses, tha can all rest easy, apparently it takes 40kg of dark chocolate in one go to poison a person fatally".....
"probably more effective to drop the 40kg on their thick skulls", he thought, looking at no-one in particular and especially not from Ardchoille.....

Strathfield nods in agreement, getting himself a couple bottles of slightly-cooler-than-room-temperature porter.

"O'course, perhaps the fellow's used to those watery beers that taste worse the warmer they get."

Strathfield side-steps the phlegm and returns to the table where Mirah sits. He sets the bottles on the table.

Mirah: "Why do you drink that stuff? I don't want it. For god's sake, Bid, gimme a whiskey."

Strathfield smirks. "These are for me; get your own drink. Hand me the paper."

Mirah tosses the paper his way and gets up to head toward the bar. Biddulph glances over the news reports. Some new countries were air-lifted to Twafflonia's region recently. Not many UN members, from the looks of things, but most of them seem alright. Biddulph doubts that the newcomers will cause much stir at home. The military budget is already higher than that with which most citizens are comfortable.

Egads man! Don't you know that chilled beer destroys the wonderful hop flavors!?! Let me buy you another beer, room temperature and compare the two, yes!

Meh sure as long as i can have both...So how's the baby? Boy or girl?

Meh sure as long as i can have both...So how's the baby? Boy or girl?


Boy, girl.... well....
Only matters if they grow up to be brave warriors!!! Then its a success! Hooah! We got a physician to tell us if the baby's a girl or a boy?

*drinks both beers* Hmm your right the warm one tastes slightly better......
So anything interesting besides the miracle of life happen today?

<snip> ... apparently it takes 40kg of dark chocolate in one go to poison a person fatally".....
"probably more effective to drop the 40kg on their thick skulls", he thought, looking at no-one in particular and especially not from Ardchoille.....

For no reason at all, the word "chocolate" popped into Dicey's mind. And from there it was but a short step to the thought of the delectable, smooth taste, the welcome secret bite of the melting darkness, perhaps with the exquisite, too often withheld, sweetness of the rare orange chip ...

She shook her head crossly, trying to dismiss such trivia, and a glimpse of Sir Albert of Bahgum flickered in the corner of her eye. She felt the familiar pang. But what was he, after all? Just another barely upright delegate, hen-pecked by squads of Mothers-in-Law -- and what did that say for his marital arrangements, come to that? True, she'd fallen helplessly, worshipfully and, dammit, chastely for his urban sophisticate charms when she was just another wet-behind-the-ears country-girl newcomer, too scared even to admit that magic existed, let alone that she could do it, but now ...

She stole another glance. The noble way his hand clutched the glass, the admirable grace with which he disguised the shakiness, the cute way his hair flipped to and fro as he downed a pint, the air of unquestionable authority with which he expressed even his dottiest opinions ... sigh ...

"Neville, I need a Death By Chocolate," Dicey announced, firmly dismissing her foolish emotions. With the way things were stacking up politically back home, she could not allow herself to give any hostages to fortune.

At least she'd never allowed anyone to suspect her weakness ...

Ardchoilleans;13307119']The outraged cry of a newborn human smashed through her defences. Oh, Goddess, she'd forgotten about the woman giving birth! There was an innocent in the bar! And demons still unchecked!
OOC. Soon, it will be innocents. ;) Carina is carrying twins!

Meh sure as long as i can have both...So how's the baby? Boy or girl?
Boy, girl.... well....
Only matters if they grow up to be brave warriors!!! Then its a success! Hooah! We got a physician to tell us if the baby's a girl or a boy?
Richard saw the newborn at Carina's bosom and turned to Carol

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked inquisitively
"Brecu me passe," Dr. Knut Spicolli said to Carol, holding out his bloody gloved hand. Carol handed the anesthetic-filled syringe with a long needle.

"C'e me oachiedece la sese di la nato?" Carol asked Knut, who was busy injecting lidocaine to calm down the pudendal nerve.

"Il s'a masco," Knut answered as he withdrew the needle. Carina's uterus began to contract again, immediately pushing the second baby's head into the birth canal. He thought the second one was going to be easy...

Meanwhile, Carol relayed the news. "It's a boy," she told Richard and the others nearby.

A boy? That means Bourbon for everyone!!!

As the anesthesia began to act, the second baby began to crown, much to Knut's relief. This delivery is going to be easy...

But relief turned into apprehension when the Carina's uterus temporarily stopped contracting and the baby's head withdrew from the introitus. He knew what that was, it was every obstetrician's nightmare - shoulder dystocia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shoulder_dystocia). He waited for the next cycle of contractions, but still the baby won't budge. Heck, what else can go wrong? They are delivering the babies in the Stranger's Bar, he had no stuff, and now this?

"Knut, quide hoce zulceche?" Carina asked weakly. She was now tired and wanted to quit. She hugged the newborn baby boy on her bosom, as if deriving her strength from her son.
("Knut, how long will this last?")

"Justi a mentre, m'amore," Knut lied. He knew very well that this is a complicated delivery, and it is dangerous for both the baby and Carina. He didn't want them to die on his hands.
("Just a while, my love.")

He stopped applying traction on the baby's head and instead applied pressure on the pubic bone. After a few moments, realizing it did not work, he switched to applying pressure above the pubic bone. Carina winced at what Knut was doing and lifted her head up. "Qui tu doco?" she asked.
("What are you doing?")

Knut managed a fake smile as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Justi masgegnece tu," he said. "Noi basece hoci "Rubin Masgegne"."
("Just massaging you... we call this "Rubin Massage".")

Knut tried the other "Rubin Massage", but the baby wouldn't budge. Having exhausted three options, it was time for more drastic measures. He spotted Carol and Richard. "Vosi oacraittecu e abre me pestrece la natomalo**?"
("Can you come here and help me get this natomalo** out?")

** Natomalo: literally, "evil baby". Nord-Brutlandese folklore holds that babies who give their mothers difficult delivery are evil and/or possessed/influenced by demons. If the demon is sufficiently powerful, it can kill the mother. Nowadays, the word is used in common parlance as an expression for babies, and even children, who do bad/naughty/troublesome things.

Hari took a glance at the struggling obstetrician, blanched, nearly passed out, and went back to get more alcohol.

Somewhat lost but drawn by the incessent smell of blood and alcohol, Sadrin Darkfire, High Lord and newly appointed UN Rep. of Ice Forge, walked into the bar, only to be greeted with the choas within. Seeing demons and a woman in labor with numerous spectators, he turned to his compainion, Anub'Rekhan of Azol Nerub, to see that he had fled. Too tired and in need of a good drink to follow him, Sadrin wandered over to the bar and sat down.

"Any chance of you mixing some Merlot with some of that demon's blood lying around here?" He asked wearily, in need of a classic mix from his homeland.

"Sure thing." Neville the Barlord replied before taking the merlot and finding the blood to mix it with.

Groaning and trying to sort out the points he would have to make to his superiors on the shadow council in his next report, he sat back and began to watch the "show" waiting patiently for his drink.

Mirah returns with a whiskey on the rocks to the table where Strathfield sits. Strathfield's watch buzzes and he glances at it. A new proposal to check over.

Strathfield: "Gotta go, toots. Take care."

Mirah waves dismissively while sipping the whiskey as Strathfield leaves the bar, headed to the General Assembly.

Having recieved his drink Sadrin begins to survey the bar while sipping it. Chuckling at the efforts of Avaya, he rises from his seat and walks over to where her struggles against the legion of demons is raging. Pulling out a dagger that looks to be made of shadows, he calmy sticks it in the back of one of the demons next to the maiden. Chuckling as it falls over dead, he turns to look at her.

"Hello milady. Mind if i join in? Its been too long since ive slaughtered demons. After all, the harvesting pits take care of all that back home."

Knut tried the other "Rubin Massage", but the baby wouldn't budge. Having exhausted three options, it was time for more drastic measures. He spotted Carol and Richard. "Vosi oacraittecu e abre me pestrece la natomalo**?"
[SIZE="1"]("Can you come here and help me get this natomalo** out?")



"Yes of course, what can we do to help?" answered Richard, he wasn't a doctor but he knew something wasn't quite right

If its a boy-->Bourbon
If its a girl-->Gin
If its twins-->Cognac
If its triplets-->Brandy
If its more-->Just pass out, you've had at least 5 bottles.

"Yes of course, what can we do to help?" answered Richard, he wasn't a doctor but he knew something wasn't quite right
"Hold her leg," Knut pointed to Carina's left leg as Carol took the right, "flex the knees, and push it towards her abdomen," he said, teaching them the McRobert's maneuver (http://www.evidence.com/animation/bp-4.html), which was supposed to be very effective in resolving cases like this...

OOC:Wait so there are demons in the bar now? First a woman giving birth in the stranger's bar then demons....Wtf is next? Irish step dancing Ultralisks?

IC:Alan looking at the new comers asked them casually what was up....
Then his ear's perked up at what he thought he overheard some one say Demons...He turned around the bar and calmly asked as if appearing drunk....
Did any one of you lot say Demons???

"Hold her leg," Knut pointed to Carina's left leg as Carol took the right, "flex the knees, and push it towards her abdomen," he said, teaching them the McRobert's maneuver (http://www.evidence.com/animation/bp-4.html), which was supposed to be very effective in resolving cases like this...

"Like this?" he replied and then held it up and pushed towards her like Knut had said.

OOC:Wait so there are demons in the bar now? First a woman giving birth in the stranger's bar then demons....Wtf is next? Irish step dancing Ultralisks?

[OoC: If you or someone else wanted it i'm sure it happen. The Bar is kinda another plane of existance, and the odd, esoteric, or strange are almost certain to occur.]

OOC:Wait so there are demons in the bar now? First a woman giving birth in the stranger's bar then demons....Wtf is next? Irish step dancing Ultralisks?

OOC: yeah the demons showed up a few pages back... and i couldn't think of anything better to stick a knife into.

IC: Sadrin looked over at the UGL delegate. "Why do you ask? Are you planning on helping to find more demons? Could you? Please? Because this one demon blood cocktail is just about done and i could really do with another..." Sadrin then began to stab more demons smiling with gleee and making a slight effort to save some of the entrails as a traditional Forgemen gift for the newborn twins.

"Like this?" he replied and then held it up and pushed towards her like Knut had said.
"Yes, thank you," Knut said, applying traction of the baby's head again. but the baby still won't come out. He applied pressure again above the pubic bone, but it seemed like nothing could expel the baby.

Desperate, Knut inserted his hand into the birth canal and tried to rotate the baby like a corkscrew. "Push," he instructed Carina. He felt the baby move forward, but it still wouldn't go out.

"Tu s'scatto, tu natomalo!" Knut cursed under his breath. He would not do a Zavanelli maneuver nor any of the more drastic maneuvers, unless as last resort.

He tried everything again, but it didn't work. "Let's get Carina on all fours," Knut said.

OOC: yeah the demons showed up a few pages back... and i couldn't think of anything better to stick a knife into.

IC: Sadrin looked over at the UGL delegate. "Why do you ask? Are you planning on helping to find more demons? Could you? Please? Because this one demon blood cocktail is just about done and i could really do with another..." Sadrin then began to stab more demons smiling with gleee and making a slight effort to save some of the entrails as a traditional Forgemen gift for the newborn twins.

Hmmm i don't know...well i had some experience with demons during their previous assaults on a City called Lodaeron or somthing like that in the warcraft dimension. I barely got out of that dimension....Had i been a normal human being i would've been a goner. I am very fortunate to be Half protoss....I don't suppose your demons are somehow related to the burning legion...

Hmmm i don't know...well i had some experience with demons during their previous assaults on a City called Lodaeron or somthing like that in the warcraft dimension. I barely got out of that dimension....Had i been a normal human being i would've been a goner. I am very fortunate to be Half protoss....I don't suppose your demons are somehow related to the burning legion...

"I don't know what kind of demons these are... i just got here and they were already here." Sadrin takes a whiff of the entrails he has collected as a gift. "They smell like demons that represent the humen seven deadly sins, but if they're a part of the legion i havn't heard of them. Whatever they are though, their blood tastes exquisite in merlot. By the way, where is the UGL? Ice Forge is where most of the Undead species of Azeroth are relocating to, Ice Forge and a few other countries at least. Yet i've never heard of a half-protoss human or your league."

Sadrin stops killing demons and walks over to the bar to take a seat next to Alan. Setting down the collected entrails and killing a demon that followed him, he orders a pair of demon blood merlots.

"You should really give one of these merlots a try. On me."

I'll try out a Merlot too please!

"Then come on over here and get one! But you pay for it on your own, ya hear? Sadrin yells over at the shogunkhan guy

"I don't know what kind of demons these are... i just got here and they were already here." Sadrin takes a whiff of the entrails he has collected as a gift. "They smell like demons that represent the humen seven deadly sins, but if they're a part of the legion i havn't heard of them. Whatever they are though, their blood tastes exquisite in merlot. By the way, where is the UGL? Ice Forge is where most of the Undead species of Azeroth are relocating to, Ice Forge and a few other countries at least. Yet i've never heard of a half-protoss human or your league."

Sadrin stops killing demons and walks over to the bar to take a seat next to Alan. Setting down the collected entrails and killing a demon that followed him, he orders a pair of demon blood merlots.

"You should really give one of these merlots a try. On me."

Well i be damned this stuff tastes hella good....Ah perhaps i should indulge you in why a Half protoss half human like my self exist....It's a wonder really
Protoss and terran Reproductive organs are literally quite the same....Erm *coughs*...well cross species fertilization is really quite common in the UGL.
although i wish our scientists would fix several issues concerning dimension hopping...you should really try protoss foot ball....im currently trying to get them to pass a rule that protoss half bloods can play it.....you want to see a neat trick?

"Then come on over here and get one! But you pay for it on your own, ya hear? Sadrin yells over at the shogunkhan guy

Fine, but that means I'll buy you a Riesling!

Fine, but that means I'll buy you a Riesling!

"Then get the hell over here!"

Well i be damned this stuff tastes hella good....Ah perhaps i should indulge you in why a Half protoss half human like my self exist....It's a wonder really
Protoss and terran Reproductive organs are literally quite the same....Erm *coughs*...well cross species fertilization is really quite common in the UGL.
although i wish our scientists would fix several issues concerning dimension hopping...you should really try protoss foot ball....im currently trying to get them to pass a rule that protoss half bloods can play it.....you want to see a neat trick?

"Sure, show me this trick... then ill show you one of my own! Also, you got anything against the undead in the UGL? cause if you don't then im sure Ice Forge and its allies in the Forsaken Imperial Alliance would love to set up trade agreements between our respective nations."

Ok give me a minute.....*A minute passes* "POOF" tada!! Alan stood up smiling
and introduced Sadrin or rather a copy of Sadrin......Sadrin are you the real Sadrin? Yes i am the real one and that one is the impostor and by the way every one I am gay...The Hallucination said perfectly imitating the original Sadrin....After Alan had his fun the Hallucination disappeared. Ok i have nothing against the Undead well your undead comrades at least...As long as the people are safe then The UGL has no quarrel with your undead.

"Thats excellent news!" Sadrin said when he heard Alan's words. "I look foward to hammering out all the details. By the way,have you seen the Human rights for intelligent non human beings proposal being debated a few rooms over? Its really quite a breakthrough. Now, let me show you MY trick.

Sadrin stands up from his chair and takes out his dagger. Cutting his palm and painting the blade with his dark blood, he chants a few lines quietly before stabbing the dagger foward. There is a loud bang and where the dagger had pointed there now stood a beast made of of many corpses sown togethar with hook and axelike protrusions and large teeth.

"This, my friend, is my pet; Patchwork. Patchwork, say hello to the nice UGL delegate."

The monstroisity known as Patchwork looks stupidly at Alan and grunts before saying "Me Patchwork. Me say hello to UGL dela...dele... to UGL man!"

Dr. Bob walks into the UN Strangers' Bar.

"Anyone got a free drink? Or even better, anyone got a free merc? My government got...er...overthrown a while back (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13318278&postcount=6), and I like to have it be restored.

I spent all my money on my election campagin to the Mayorship of the Capital City of SilentScope003, but now elections are banned...it was all for nought."

Sadrin turns for a moment to see who was in need of a free merc. Seeing Dr. Bob, he calls out. "you can borrow Patchwork here if you like. Hes loyal, stupid, good at killing and maiming, and he can subsist on his enemies corpses." Sadrin finishes his statement with a nod while patting the Abomination with one hand.

"Yes, thank you," Knut said, applying traction of the baby's head again. but the baby still won't come out. He applied pressure again above the pubic bone, but it seemed like nothing could expel the baby.

Desperate, Knut inserted his hand into the birth canal and tried to rotate the baby like a corkscrew. "Push," he instructed Carina. He felt the baby move forward, but it still wouldn't go out.

"Tu s'scatto, tu natomalo!" Knut cursed under his breath. He would not do a Zavanelli maneuver nor any of the more drastic maneuvers, unless as last resort.

He tried everything again, but it didn't work. "Let's get Carina on all fours," Knut said.


Richard nodded in silent compliance "Okay, are you ready Carina?" and then turned to Carol, "Ready?"

Richard nodded in silent compliance "Okay, are you ready Carina?" and then turned to Carol, "Ready?"
"My baby," she tipped her head in the direction of the newborn on her chest.

"I'll get it," Knut said as he scooped the baby from Carina's tummy. He scanned the area to look for someone to give the baby to. He saw the weirdly-dressed Archoillean woman (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13307119&postcount=6828)...

"Ma'am, we must get you on all fours," Carol told her boss. She then looked at Richard. "I think we're ready."

"My baby," she tipped her head in the direction of the newborn on her chest.

"I'll get it," Knut said as he scooped the baby from Carina's tummy. He scanned the area to look for someone to give the baby to. He saw the weirdly-dressed Archoillean woman (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13307119&postcount=6828)...

"Ma'am, we must get you on all fours," Carol told her boss. She then looked at Richard. "I think we're ready."

"Okay then, let's do this." said Richard, now getting worried, what would they do if Carina's condition did not improve?

"One....Two...."

"Thats excellent news!" Sadrin said when he heard Alan's words. "I look foward to hammering out all the details. By the way,have you seen the Human rights for intelligent non human beings proposal being debated a few rooms over? Its really quite a breakthrough. Now, let me show you MY trick.

Sadrin stands up from his chair and takes out his dagger. Cutting his palm and painting the blade with his dark blood, he chants a few lines quietly before stabbing the dagger foward. There is a loud bang and where the dagger had pointed there now stood a beast made of of many corpses sown togethar with hook and axelike protrusions and large teeth.

"This, my friend, is my pet; Patchwork. Patchwork, say hello to the nice UGL delegate."

The monstroisity known as Patchwork looks stupidly at Alan and grunts before saying "Me Patchwork. Me say hello to UGL dela...dele... to UGL man!"


Hmm interesting....I've encountered some similar ones during my journeys within the Warcraft Dimension. You and your pet would blend right in....Say you wouldn't happen to know what dragons eat? i've been hatching a egg and quite frankly i don't know how or what to feed the lil blighter when it hatches...The trader said something about it being a Bronze dragon or something...if you want i can show you the egg later...it's in my briefcase
back at my place...i can have it delivered here.

Hmm interesting....I've encountered some similar ones during my journeys within the Warcraft Dimension. You and your pet would blend right in....Say you wouldn't happen to know what dragons eat? i've been hatching a egg and quite frankly i don't know how or what to feed the lil blighter when it hatches...The trader said something about it being a Bronze dragon or something...if you want i can show you the egg later...it's in my briefcase
back at my place...i can have it delivered here.

"A bronze Dragon? Excellent! I'm afraid that living dragons have been extinct in the empire for over a thousand years, so im only familiar with Undead Dragons. Though if you could find a small wouldland creature or a newborn babe that would probably work..." Sadrin turns to the bar "Hey, any newborns ain here? We need something to feed this blokes dragon whelp."

No no that won't be necessary i can feed the dragon some steak instead...

Dr. Bob walks into the UN Strangers' Bar.

"Anyone got a free drink? Or even better, anyone got a free merc? My government got...er...overthrown a while back (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13318278&postcount=6), and I like to have it be restored.

I spent all my money on my election campagin to the Mayorship of the Capital City of SilentScope003, but now elections are banned...it was all for nought."

Well we could always send you some of our Wawis to teach you the Wawa!

... someone to give the baby to. He saw the weirdly-dressed Archoillean woman (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13307119&postcount=6828)...


With the baby being shoved at her by a desperate man, Avaya had no choice but to take it. Awkwardly she propped its head in the hollow of her neck. Her one-handed clutch was enough to give her warm, fuzzy mental images from the bratling. Well, this one at least wasn't demonic, and was safe enough from infestation while she held it. But the other one -- she'd heard the father call it "natomalo". Did that mean she'd have a pair of irate and magic-savvy parents to deal with as well, or had he just chosen the word from some folk memory?

But this wasn't the time to worry about her own troubles. Very, very gently, she reached out with her mind to the almost-born child -- and solved, at least to her satisfaction, the problem of the delayed delivery. It was just too crowded to get out! What with the demons pushing and shoving on their astral plane, every one eager to get first chance at the innocent, the poor little thing hadn't a chance of escape. Pride, Lust and Envy were well in evidence, Greed was putting in a good bid, Anger was in for a show -- if she let them go, this kid would probably make a famous national leader ...

Thank the Goddess these demons were lower level beings!

"By the higher power of Water, leave alone this son or daughter," she ordered. "By the higher power of Fire, you must do as I desire. By the higher power of Earth, let the infant come to birth. By the higher power of Air, get your asses outta there!" ... forgotten something ... oh, yes ... "So Mote It Be," she said self-consciously, hating the fake archaism, but feeling her usual terse "Make It So" not quite apt at this point. You couldn't get much more old-fashioned than childbirth.

The demons weren't giving up so easily. They pushed, Avaya pushed, while on the physical plane the desperate mother pushed and was pushed. This was ridiculous. Surely she wouldn't have to invoke the Cailleach ... ah! There was the tiniest thread of pressure from the small, squirming bundle at her shoulder. She seized it and wove it in. It was just enough. The closest demon popped like a bubble, fleeing back to its proper place, and her strength increased with fewer targets to deal with. Another ... another ... the last one was easy.

"Little one, I think you've earned a witch's birth gift," she happily told the child she held. "Ummm ... you and your sibling will never have a bad hair day. And," she added impressively, "neither of you will ever get a huge zit just before an important date."

How good was that? She'd rhymed properly, she'd defeated demons, and she'd been able to come up with a couple of really decent charms.

Now, if she could just doubletalk Dicey and Bast, soothe Sammy, gobbledegook the babies' parents, dodge the man who wanted more demon blood and avoid having the Oldest Coven find out about her criminal activities, life would be as rosy as ever.

Ori entered the bar hanging his fur coat and hat on the coat stand to the left of the door. As straitened his long black braid he looked for an open table. Scanning he found a small wooden one in the back corner at which to sit.

His eyes glided over the many scenes occurring inside the bar as he walked to his seat. There seem to be a lot of strange people in this place. Reaching the table he pulled up a seat, sat and put his boots on the table. His feat ached, it had been a hard day.

"Okay then, let's do this." said Richard, now getting worried, what would they do if Carina's condition did not improve?

"One....Two...."
"Three," Carol said as they half-rolled, half-helped Carina to a position on all fours. For a moment, Carina tried to support herself on her limbs, but she was too weak. Carol rushed to support her. "You're going to do this, boss."

Ardchoilleans;13320884']--snip the nice post--
Meanwhile Knut handed over his newborn baby boy to the Ardchoillean woman, who took the baby. The weirdly-dressed woman began saying incantations and making some gestures, but Knut did not mind her. He prayed that the Gaskin maneuver would work.

When Carol had Carina on her all fours, Knut told his wife to push. Still, the baby could not get out. She pushed again. And again. And again.

Knut was on the verge of despair, and was about to ask the witchy woman to call an ambulance. The witchy woman was talking about bad hair days and zits when the baby's shoulder was freed. Knut hurriedly turned around to catch the forcefully expelled baby, and caught the baby just in time.

The sound of a crying baby filled their corner. Knut was relieved the baby was alive, and was doing quite well after everything that had happened.

He handed the newborn baby girl to the witchy woman. "Thank you," he muttered to her and to Richard. He turned to his wife, who laid herself again on the couch. "Doci," he murmured, and then kissed his wife. "You're a fighter. Thank you."

"My... babies..." she said weakly.

"They're fine," he reassured her. "But I'll check on you first."

Carina was fine. She needed no perineal repair (surprisingly), and the two placentas immediately expelled were whole and complete. "You're fine. You need some rest - " Knut had not finished his sentence when Carina fell asleep on the couch.

Carina was fine. She needed no perineal repair (surprisingly), and the two placentas immediately expelled were whole and complete. "You're fine. You need some rest - " Knut had not finished his sentence when Carina fell asleep on the couch.

Sadrin turned from his interesting conversation with Alan of UGL about bronze dragon whelps when he heard the sounds of demons being driven away, a lady chanting magic incantations of some sort that he didn't recognize... which probably meant they were light magic stuff, and a pair of newborn babies crying. seeing the newborns he grinned.

"Ahh, what's this? The miricle of life in a bar, and twins to boot! Twins are a sign of very good fortune and favor from the darkness!" Picking up his affects he approached the man... Knut he thought his name was, and the priestess who was holding the babies.

"Here," he said while presenting the demonic entrails he had harvested to Knut. "A traditional Forgeman gift for you and your family, to celebrate your fortune in having twins, which is surely a sign of the darkness' favor."

Turning to the priestess woman, he asked, "What kind of magic was that? Im always interested in learning about other magic, and most of the stuff i know causes pain or suffering so i really don't know about what you just did... care to explain it?"

Ardchoilleans;13320884']
Now, if she could just doubletalk Dicey and Bast, soothe Sammy, gobbledegook the babies' parents, dodge the man who wanted more demon blood and avoid having the Oldest Coven find out about her criminal activities, life would be as rosy as ever.

OOC: your not getting away from Sadrin that easily! =)

"You're welcome." replied Richard who now saw that the three were okay, and then let out a sigh of relief, "Gi dato".


He then turned to Knut and patted him on the back "Congratulations, Dad! Hey, let's go find some cigars and I'll buy you a drink,"

then paused for a moment as if he had forgotten something

"I almost forgot, what are the two little twins' names?"

Ori could not help but grin. I was not every day a person gets to see the birth of new life.

Getting up from his seat he walked towards the group standing around the newborn bebes. "They are boy and girl correct," he said without acknowledging his presence,"What about Alexi and Anne. They mean star and moon in my language."

... Turning to the priestess woman, he asked, "What kind of magic was that? Im always interested in learning about other magic, and most of the stuff i know causes pain or suffering so i really don't know about what you just did... care to explain it?"

Directly addressed, the young intern was nonplussed. Magic nations tended to keep their talents hidden, as Ardchoille had when first the nation joined the UN. Dicey's repeated clashes with the Oldest Coven had forced a few revelations, but discussing the subject in public still felt vaguely improper to the strictly brought up Avaya. Still, this was a fellow practitioner, however, er, differently abled.

"It's just standard magic," she said hesitantly. "I didn't kill the demons, I just zapped them back to where they belong. Balance, you know."

She wondered whether her answer was adequate. Perhaps he wanted to discuss the technical aspects, not the philosophy.

"Do you mean the rhymes? That was necessary to bind the spell. And I called on the elements because the demons were plainly degraded elementals; it's not as if they could be reasoned with. Oh, d'you mean casting the circles?" She blushed proudly. "Dicey's been letting me do that by visualisation lately -- though I bet she'll make me go back to the old way after this mess."

It struck her that talking to a dark magician might not be helping her regain her bosses' good books. There were aspects of Ardchoille's dealings that she was sure Dicey would prefer not to have discussed -- particularly that Academy of the Dark Arts scholarship they'd helped arrange for the boy from Findhorn (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12342497&postcount=57), and the associated unfortunate business of the ambassador to the Kennyites.

"Uh ... I ... my fiance ... " she stuttered, casting a hunted glance at Sammy over her shoulder. Fortunately, both babies chose that minute to assert their right to the entire world's undivided attention.

"I'm sorry, I'll just have to clean these two up," Avaya said with relief, slipping easily into the cadences of the basic scrub-up spell that everyone knew from childhood. Lacking other coverings, she summoned a couple of clean aprons from the storeroom and swaddled the twins firmly. Secure now, the pair reduced their din.

Avaya carried them encouragingly over to their father as he straightened from examining his wife. "Look, here's Daddy!" she announced with false cheer, hoping he would understand that what she actually meant was, "Help! Get your kids offa me!"

Queen Vaela Dorn of Vulpes Vixenis eases open the tavern bar. A brow lifts ever so slightly at the scene within, her sensitive nose twitching at the multitudinous scents. With a shake of her head that does little to relieve the look of confusion and frustration marring her beautiful vulpine features, she enters, followed closely behind by a male of like species though slightly taller than her own slender five foot frame. She wends her way towards an unoccupied alcove, skillfully avoiding even the slightest contact with others, her companion in tow. The Queen slips into the booth, moving to the far side, then drops her head into her hands. The male vulpine scoots over beside her, draping a lanky arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Come now, it's not all bad, is it?" he inquires, his voice a light tenor. "At least there are some who are willing to help. And of course the Abolition of Slavery was passed."

She drops her arms to the table, resting her head on them. She scans the crowd with doleful gaze, giving her head another slight shake.

"I don't see it going much further than this," she replies with a sigh. "The proposal was years old and covered in dust when I picked it up. It has been bickered and botched, and now it's my turn to throw the dice. I'm not quite sure if I have the strength."

He chuckles, ruffling the fur between her ears. "Come now, love. You've made it ten years as queen without being thrown down and trampled. In a society as diverse as ours, that's quite an accomplishment! You've helped bring us out of the dark times and into our own. If you're strong enough for that, you're strong enough for this."

"I'm not- " She breaks off as a waiter approaches, sitting up. "I'd like... um..." She glances to her companion. "Jakart, what's something that burns nicely?"

He grins. "A small Timorian brandy for my sister and a large one for myself, both on the rocks with a twist." He quirks a brow at her as the waiter leaves. "That good enough?"

"I suppose, though I'd prefer not quite so small. I've a mind to waste away the evening... afternoon... morning? What bloody time is it anyways?"

"Does it matter?"

She sighs, resting her head on her arms again. Her brother gently scratches behind her ears, causing her to give another sigh, this one of pleasure.

"You always did know how to soothe my nerves... But still... I'm not sure I'm fit for the international stage... I'm not as good at paring words as you, brother. Perhaps you would...?"

He gives his head a fervent shake. "Ooooh, no! You're not catching me in that trap. I'm a military commander, not a politician. I prefer to see the teeth on the sharks I face."

This elicits a rather unqueenly giggle from the vixen. "Except when they bite you in the rear!"

Jakart gives her a playful bap. "That was only the one time, and it wasn't a shark, it was a bloody dog." He resumes his petting. "Go on then, finish up. Get it out, so you can move on to more important matters than self pity and self deprication."

"I'm just not sure I'm cut out for all of this," she offers with a shrug. "I want this so badly, but... I've never dealt with... with... I'm... not really sure what to call it... Apathy? Arguementativeness? Pettiness? All of the above? At least it does seem as though most of them wish to work towards a common goal of the greater good rather than each having their own agenda, as is in our parliment. It's just that some of them seem to glory in positing rediculous scenarios and intend to be taken seriously. I'm quite certain a few of them actually are serious..."

Jakart thanks the waiter as he returns with their drinks, giving the man a generous tip. The male vulpine downs his glass in one. His sister merely twiddles the cup between her fingers, pushing it back and forth across the table.

"I could just put it to vote without further consultation... but I'm not so arrogant as to believe that would work... Besides, St Edmund seems to be a rather well respected figure, and I would not wish to offend him and alienate myself..."

"Well... Why don't you just stick it out a bit longer and see what comes?" her brother suggests, pulling her against his side.

She takes a sip of her brandy, lips twisting in a snarl at the taste. "How do you drink this stuff?" She rests her head against his shoulder. "I think I will. Let's stay here a bit longer though... Perhaps the respite will help freshen me for the battle ahead."

Jakart pats her cheek and kisses her forehead. "There now, that's better. We'll win in the end. We won our freedom didn't we? Now we'll win global recognition for ourselves and those like us."

She simply nods, allowing her eyes to wander over the various delegates and deligations. Together they sit, speaking quietly of old times, both good and bad, preparing one another for the trials to come.

Ardchoilleans;13323681']Directly addressed, the young intern was nonplussed. Magic nations tended to keep their talents hidden, as Ardchoille had when first the nation joined the UN. Dicey's repeated clashes with the Oldest Coven had forced a few revelations, but discussing the subject in public still felt vaguely improper to the strictly brought up Avaya. Still, this was a fellow practitioner, however, er, differently abled.

"It's just standard magic," she said hesitantly. "I didn't kill the demons, I just zapped them back to where they belong. Balance, you know."

She wondered whether her answer was adequate. Perhaps he wanted to discuss the technical aspects, not the philosophy.

"Do you mean the rhymes? That was necessary to bind the spell. And I called on the elements because the demons were plainly degraded elementals; it's not as if they could be reasoned with. Oh, d'you mean casting the circles?" She blushed proudly. "Dicey's been letting me do that by visualisation lately -- though I bet she'll make me go back to the old way after this mess."

It struck her that talking to a dark magician might not be helping her regain her bosses' good books. There were aspects of Ardchoille's dealings that she was sure Dicey would prefer not to have discussed -- particularly that Academy of the Dark Arts scholarship they'd helped arrange for the boy from Findhorn (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12342497&postcount=57), and the associated unfortunate business of the ambassador to the Kennyites.

"Uh ... I ... my fiance ... " she stuttered, casting a hunted glance at Sammy over her shoulder. Fortunately, both babies chose that minute to assert their right to the entire world's undivided attention.

"I'm sorry, I'll just have to clean these two up," Avaya said with relief, slipping easily into the cadences of the basic scrub-up spell that everyone knew from childhood. Lacking other coverings, she summoned a couple of clean aprons from the storeroom and swaddled the twins firmly. Secure now, the pair reduced their din.

Avaya carried them encouragingly over to their father as he straightened from examining his wife. "Look, here's Daddy!" she announced with false cheer, hoping he would understand that what she actually meant was, "Help! Get your kids offa me!"

Sadrin couldnt help but be amused as he watched the young priestess walk away (or flee in abject terror as things may be) from him. Obviously she was one of those people who thought the dark arts were irreovacbly evil, or at least worked for someone who did. Nevertheless, it was funny making her stutter like that.

Queen Vaela Dorn of Vulpes Vixenis eases open the tavern bar. A brow lifts ever so slightly at the scene within, her sensitive nose twitching at the multitudinous scents. With a shake of her head that does little to relieve the look of confusion and frustration marring her beautiful vulpine features, she enters, followed closely behind by a male of like species though slightly taller than her own slender five foot frame. She wends her way towards an unoccupied alcove, skillfully avoiding even the slightest contact with others, her companion in tow. The Queen slips into the booth, moving to the far side, then drops her head into her hands. The male vulpine scoots over beside her, draping a lanky arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Come now, it's not all bad, is it?" he inquires, his voice a light tenor. "At least there are some who are willing to help. And of course the Abolition of Slavery was passed."

She drops her arms to the table, resting her head on them. She scans the crowd with doleful gaze, giving her head another slight shake.

"I don't see it going much further than this," she replies with a sigh. "The proposal was years old and covered in dust when I picked it up. It has been bickered and botched, and now it's my turn to throw the dice. I'm not quite sure if I have the strength."

He chuckles, ruffling the fur between her ears. "Come now, love. You've made it ten years as queen without being thrown down and trampled. In a society as diverse as ours, that's quite an accomplishment! You've helped bring us out of the dark times and into our own. If you're strong enough for that, you're strong enough for this."

"I'm not- " She breaks off as a waiter approaches, sitting up. "I'd like... um..." She glances to her companion. "Jakart, what's something that burns nicely?"

He grins. "A small Timorian brandy for my sister and a large one for myself, both on the rocks with a twist." He quirks a brow at her as the waiter leaves. "That good enough?"

"I suppose, though I'd prefer not quite so small. I've a mind to waste away the evening... afternoon... morning? What bloody time is it anyways?"

"Does it matter?"

She sighs, resting her head on her arms again. Her brother gently scratches behind her ears, causing her to give another sigh, this one of pleasure.

"You always did know how to soothe my nerves... But still... I'm not sure I'm fit for the international stage... I'm not as good at paring words as you, brother. Perhaps you would...?"

He gives his head a fervent shake. "Ooooh, no! You're not catching me in that trap. I'm a military commander, not a politician. I prefer to see the teeth on the sharks I face."

This elicits a rather unqueenly giggle from the vixen. "Except when they bite you in the rear!"

Jakart gives her a playful bap. "That was only the one time, and it wasn't a shark, it was a bloody dog." He resumes his petting. "Go on then, finish up. Get it out, so you can move on to more important matters than self pity and self deprication."

"I'm just not sure I'm cut out for all of this," she offers with a shrug. "I want this so badly, but... I've never dealt with... with... I'm... not really sure what to call it... Apathy? Arguementativeness? Pettiness? All of the above? At least it does seem as though most of them wish to work towards a common goal of the greater good rather than each having their own agenda, as is in our parliment. It's just that some of them seem to glory in positing rediculous scenarios and intend to be taken seriously. I'm quite certain a few of them actually are serious..."

Jakart thanks the waiter as he returns with their drinks, giving the man a generous tip. The male vulpine downs his glass in one. His sister merely twiddles the cup between her fingers, pushing it back and forth across the table.

"I could just put it to vote without further consultation... but I'm not so arrogant as to believe that would work... Besides, St Edmund seems to be a rather well respected figure, and I would not wish to offend him and alienate myself..."

"Well... Why don't you just stick it out a bit longer and see what comes?" her brother suggests, pulling her against his side.

She takes a sip of her brandy, lips twisting in a snarl at the taste. "How do you drink this stuff?" She rests her head against his shoulder. "I think I will. Let's stay here a bit longer though... Perhaps the respite will help freshen me for the battle ahead."

Jakart pats her cheek and kisses her forehead. "There now, that's better. We'll win in the end. We won our freedom didn't we? Now we'll win global recognition for ourselves and those like us."

She simply nods, allowing her eyes to wander over the various delegates and deligations. Together they sit, speaking quietly of old times, both good and bad, preparing one another for the trials to come.

turning away from the fleeing Ardchollian Sadrin caught sight of a fox -like woman entering the bar with a man who looked quite similar to her. He immediatly recognized her as being the delegate who was trying to get the sapient rights proposal moving again. Having little else to do he made his way over to her booth.

"Mind if i join you milday?" Sadrin asked polietly, though the effect was someone lost when he sat down without waiting for an answer. "I couldn't help but remeber seeing you in the sapient rights debate and i wanted to say i support you all the way. Its always nice to see another non-humen delegate fighting for the rights of all non-humans. Unfortunantly for me, most of them have some silly superstition or other concerning the undead. Really, is it such a crime that our heart beats not and we dont need as much air as others? But i digress, i came over here to ask what you have planned so i can throw my support behind it. So, got any ideas?"

OOC: sry for the long post cause of the quotes!

"Here," he said while presenting the demonic entrails he had harvested to Knut. "A traditional Forgeman gift for you and your family, to celebrate your fortune in having twins, which is surely a sign of the darkness' favor."
Knut turned around and looked at Sadrin, carrying over a big chunk of what looked like frozen chicken ham with raspberry syrup oozing from where the candy flowers pierced the tough flesh. He suppressed revulsion, this stuff might be their favorite food, and Carina likes chicken ham anyway.

"Thank you," Knut said, taking the plate of food and placing it on a nearby table.

OOC: He's a mere mortal, and can't see demonic entrails. :D

"He then turned to Knut and patted him on the back "Congratulations, Dad! Hey, let's go find some cigars and I'll buy you a drink,"
...
"I almost forgot, what are the two little twins' names?"
"I'd love to, but perhaps not now," Knut said rather apologetically, sorry to let go of another opportunity to drink. "Carina's sleeping, and there's no one to take care of the babies."

"We haven't got names for them yet, and I've yet to ask Carina... but we'll come up with names before they get baptized." Knut smiled. "Would you be willing to become a godfather for my children?"

Ardchoilleans;13323681']"I'm sorry, I'll just have to clean these two up," Avaya said with relief, slipping easily into the cadences of the basic scrub-up spell that everyone knew from childhood. Lacking other coverings, she summoned a couple of clean aprons from the storeroom and swaddled the twins firmly. Secure now, the pair reduced their din.

Avaya carried them encouragingly over to their father as he straightened from examining his wife. "Look, here's Daddy!" she announced with false cheer, hoping he would understand that what she actually meant was, "Help! Get your kids offa me!"
Knut took his babies from her, holding the now-sleeping boy on his right and the still-kicking girl on his left. "Thank you," Knut said, beaming with gratitude. "Would you want to be my children's godmother?"

Donatella slipped in to the bar as she had done a thousand time before the Senate of Governors decided to pull the USP out of the UN.

"It's good to be back..." she smiled to herself "...pending approval that is."

She started to make her way over to the bar.

Knut turned around and looked at Sadrin, carrying over a big chunk of what looked like frozen chicken ham with raspberry syrup oozing from where the candy flowers pierced the tough flesh. He suppressed revulsion, this stuff might be their favorite food, and Carina likes chicken ham anyway.

"Thank you," Knut said, taking the plate of food and placing it on a nearby table.

OOC: He's a mere mortal, and can't see demonic entrails. :D




OOC: who ever said that the entrails were to be used as food?

OOC: who ever said that the entrails were to be used as food?
OOC: They look like food to mortals. Yummy...

"I'd love to, but perhaps not now," Knut said rather apologetically, sorry to let go of another opportunity to drink. "Carina's sleeping, and there's no one to take care of the babies."

"Good point, I hadn't though of that...just goes to show how good a dad I would be." said Richard chuckling

"We haven't got names for them yet, and I've yet to ask Carina... but we'll come up with names before they get baptized." Knut smiled. "Would you be willing to become a godfather for my children?"


"I would be honored to be their Godfather." Richard was exstatic, he couldn't believe he'd been asked or such an honor, now all he need was a place to find gifts for the family

OOC: They look like food to mortals. Yummy...

OOC: *Shudders* dude thats not conducive to my appeitite...

isn't Haggis made with sheep entrails and a delicious Scottish dish?

Aren't hot dogs and baloney made with several animal entrails including hooves, bone marrow and other animal waste products from a slaughterhouse?

I'll still eat them because they taste delicious!!!

"Mind if i join you milday?" Sadrin asked polietly, though the effect was someone lost when he sat down without waiting for an answer. "I couldn't help but remeber seeing you in the sapient rights debate and i wanted to say i support you all the way. Its always nice to see another non-humen delegate fighting for the rights of all non-humans. Unfortunantly for me, most of them have some silly superstition or other concerning the undead. Really, is it such a crime that our heart beats not and we dont need as much air as others? But i digress, i came over here to ask what you have planned so i can throw my support behind it. So, got any ideas?"

Both wrinkle their noses slightly at the intrusion, though he is likely used to such reactions. The Queen welcomes him with a gracious gesture.

"Ideas are few and far between," she states with a weary sigh. "Until St Edmund's returns, there is little we can do. Or at least, there is little more that I will be allowed to do. I've already been accused of attempting to steal his proposal twice now."

Her brother chuckles. "Personally, I'm in favor of beating them all about the heads until they decide to cooperate, but that's just my personal opinion, nothing official."

She gives him a playful slap on the shoulder, then leans in towards the walking, or rather sitting, dead. "I would like to extend my sincere thanks, Mister Sandrin Drakefire of Ice Forge, for the support and help you've given me thus far and for your pledge of future aid. I would be rather interested in your ideas as well. Three heads are better than two, to coin a phrase."

Both vulpines give him their full attention, eyes and ears focused. Perhaps this was the break they had been looking for.

After watching everything finally settle down, the good but slightly unwholesome Senator shakes his head sadly and mutters,
"This is what happens when you serve tea in a bar. Neville should know better."

He then accosts a passing waitress and orders another Wild Turkey on the rocks.

Both wrinkle their noses slightly at the intrusion, though he is likely used to such reactions. The Queen welcomes him with a gracious gesture.

"Ideas are few and far between," she states with a weary sigh. "Until St Edmund's returns, there is little we can do. Or at least, there is little more that I will be allowed to do. I've already been accused of attempting to steal his proposal twice now."

Her brother chuckles. "Personally, I'm in favor of beating them all about the heads until they decide to cooperate, but that's just my personal opinion, nothing official."

She gives him a playful slap on the shoulder, then leans in towards the walking, or rather sitting, dead. "I would like to extend my sincere thanks, Mister Sandrin Drakefire of Ice Forge, for the support and help you've given me thus far and for your pledge of future aid. I would be rather interested in your ideas as well. Three heads are better than two, to coin a phrase."

Both vulpines give him their full attention, eyes and ears focused. Perhaps this was the break they had been looking for.

Sadrin is rather surprised to have the full attention of the two vulpines. So far these two were the first two to pay him any attention save to say that his race was a myth and he should drop the "goth" act, whatever that was. Thinking quickly and collecting his thoughts he begins.

"Well personally i don't really think that editing the proposal further is the problem. I looked through the transcripts of the debate so far when i entered, and the only thing that seemed to require adressing then, finding a way for races that feed on the blood of man to coexist without hurting humans, is something i and several others have since addressed. It seems to me that the only thing we could do at this point is present the revised version of St. Edmund's proposal to the floor, one with all of the proposed changes. That way there is some idea of whats been acomplished and what still needs doing.

As for those of you who would accuse you of stealing the proposal from St. Edmund, i only saw one person doing that, and as far as im concerned OMGTKK can go drown in sewage. He was against the proposal in the frst place and i serously doubt St. Edmund would be angry at you for making an effort to help. He seems reasonable enough, and even if he didn't agree with the edited version he'd probably still thank you for getting what we've done into plain sight." Finshing his ideas, Sadrin is silent for a second before thinking of something.

"Oh, and my name is Sadrin Darkfire milady. Drakefire is my cousin."

"Good point, I hadn't though of that...just goes to show how good a dad I would be." said Richard chuckling

"I would be honored to be their Godfather." Richard was exstatic, he couldn't believe he'd been asked or such an honor, now all he need was a place to find gifts for the family
"Thanks," Knut said as he handed the babies to Carol. "We'll be holding a party soon. We hope you could come... but for now," - he glanced at his sleeping wife - "I have to take Carina back to the Nord-Brutlandese Mission." He then eased her arms under Carina's body and lifted her up in a lover's carry and started to leave the Bar.

"I'll be right back," Carol whispered to Richard as she carried the babies and followed her boss's husband.

As for those of you who would accuse you of stealing the proposal from St. Edmund, i only saw one person doing that, and as far as im concerned OMGTKK can go drown in sewage. He was against the proposal in the frst place and i serously doubt St. Edmund would be angry at you for making an effort to help. He seems reasonable enough, and even if he didn't agree with the edited version he'd probably still thank you for getting what we've done into plain sight." Finshing his ideas, Sadrin is silent for a second before thinking of something.

"Oh, and my name is Sadrin Darkfire milady. Drakefire is my cousin."

The insides of her ears flush red with embarassment, tucking back against her skull. "My appologies, good sir. I've a problem with names sometimes. I do agree with you, however, though I believe that case may have been covered. If I recall correctly, there is a clause stipulating that special accomodations should be made for breeds that require them to function in normal society. If there isn't, it would be best to suggest one."

Her brother nods. "I know a few werewolves, myself. They're right fine fellows if they're given something to vent their frustration on once in a while. Full moons can drive them wild, but otherwise they're mostly tame."

"The problem is, how do we convince the rest to move forward with this proposal without St Edmund, and without 'taking over' and proving OMGTKK's accusations correct?" This is a point she seems rather desperate over, her brother rubbing her back soothingly.

Mirah sets down the paper and glances around the room. She wonders if the demons will be allowed to buy drinks, and why the bar's usual defenses haven't prevented folks from stabbing them. Poor things.

The insides of her ears flush red with embarassment, tucking back against her skull. "My appologies, good sir. I've a problem with names sometimes. I do agree with you, however, though I believe that case may have been covered. If I recall correctly, there is a clause stipulating that special accomodations should be made for breeds that require them to function in normal society. If there isn't, it would be best to suggest one."

Her brother nods. "I know a few werewolves, myself. They're right fine fellows if they're given something to vent their frustration on once in a while. Full moons can drive them wild, but otherwise they're mostly tame."

"The problem is, how do we convince the rest to move forward with this proposal without St Edmund, and without 'taking over' and proving OMGTKK's accusations correct?" This is a point she seems rather desperate over, her brother rubbing her back soothingly.

Sadrin nods as he considers the Vupline queens fears. The flames that double for his eyes turn a deep purple as he thinks, before they become a light blue.
"As far as i could see, the only one who had anything against what you proposed was OMGTKK. The other nations either didn't comment on it or they gave their blessing. Not to mention St. Edmund left a note to show that he wasn't dead just on family leave and it didn't indicate anything against the idea. I'd say that the best option would be to put out the version of the proposal based on the debate so far, making it perfectly clear that you are not hijacking the proposal just putting what has been said and agreed on so far out for everyone to see. I's wager OMGTKK is the only one who complains, and i'd bet that St. Edmund might even appreciate it."

"As for the name mixup? Its not a problem really." Sadrin says as he grins, inadvertantly showing off four white fangs. "I'm much the same way in truth. Nine hells, there are people who i've known for years that i still forget the names of. By the way, I've never encountered a race quite like yours, and my nation has sent me to more places than i can count. Care to tell me about your people? Maybe in the interest of setting up trade?"

OOC: bad advice, and worse assumptions.

OOC: Indeed. The Strangers' Bar is not the place for these types of legislative discussions. This is supposed to be a sanctuary for diplomats to get away from all that, so take it back to the appropriate thread, please. Better yet, start your own.

OOC: bad advice, and worse assumptions.

OOC: Maybe it is bad advice. I'll be the first to admit im new to this and have yet to fully pick up on how things are done. All i see though is a proposal that is stalling and dieing that id rather not see die. If St. Edmund and only St. Edmund has a problem with the idea if it were implemented, i would take full responsability and apologize for making an effort for the post to be put up there.

OOC: Indeed. The Strangers' Bar is not the place for these types of legislative discussions. This is supposed to be a sanctuary for diplomats to get away from all that, so take it back to the appropriate thread, please. Better yet, start your own.

OOC: It is also a place for delegates to meet and they would talk about such things. Not to mention the fact that not much else is happening now that burtland and nordan's kids have been born and the demons are vanquished. If you want me to stop speaking of this IN CHARACTER then instigate something else for me to amuse myself with.

"As far as i could see, the only one who had anything against what you proposed was OMGTKK. The other nations either didn't comment on it or they gave their blessing. Not to mention St. Edmund left a note to show that he wasn't dead just on family leave and it didn't indicate anything against the idea. I'd say that the best option would be to put out the version of the proposal based on the debate so far, making it perfectly clear that you are not hijacking the proposal just putting what has been said and agreed on so far out for everyone to see. I's wager OMGTKK is the only one who complains, and i'd bet that St. Edmund might even appreciate it."

No, I'd complain too, then I'd put my modhat on and listen to myself. You can't assume that (St Edmund's) lack of objection equals permission; he may simply have been in a hurry. When he's fully able to debate the topic, he'll say so, and then you can post your suggestions, ask his opinions and let him incorporate them if he chooses.

I understand you don't intend to hijack the proposal, but the sort of summary you're suggesting is, traditionally, the proposal author's prerogative. Proposal writers sometimes name others as co-author, if they've taken a big part in the drafting, but that's up to them. The NS UN is heavy on tradition, especially when it involves a respected, even if frequently disagreed-with, member. And, as many said in their posts in his thread, RL comes first; this can wait.

As for the RP aspects, hang on a sec till I switch accounts. Mods have as little role as possible in RPs.

Okay, bit of housekeeping.
OOC on roleplayed discussions of legislation: Though it cuts me to the quick, I have to say I think Kenny is right for once. It is true that real-life diplomats would discuss detailed strategy about legislation, but not in the Strangers Bar. IceForge, Vulpes Vixenis, did you know that the UN Press Gallery has a permanent pool member in the Bar? Further, the number of concealed microphones, invisible delegates, beings with super-hearing and telepaths is uncountable. In the Blessed First Post, you find
... Over time, the Strangers' Bar evolved into a kind of private club to which the politicians could repair for food, drink and convivial company aside from the strain of legislation.(emphasis added)
Those who have seen the series "Yes Minister" and "Yes Prime Minister" know that, in addition, many "back room deals" are also organised within the Bar as the free flow of hospitality breaks down barriers of ideology and party politics ...

So if you RP any sort of deal in the Bar, you're more or less inviting others to RP ways to undo it, thwart it, complicate it or have fun with it. But Neville the BarLord has such a strict ban on actual proposal-content "work" in the bar that my President has to fold all her official letters into paper plane shapes so he won't realise she uses the Bar as an office.

Mirah sets down the paper and glances around the room. She wonders if the demons will be allowed to buy drinks, and why the bar's usual defenses haven't prevented folks from stabbing them. Poor things.

OOC: Because no-one was paying attention, dammit! Possible IC solutions: Because the demons were Non-Drinking Characters, and Neville hadn't set the Acme machines to protect them; OR because demons don't have a physical life, they merely inhabit a fleshly vehicle, and when it's "killed", they go back where they belong; OR because the demons so closely resembled real delegates -- particularly Felix, IMHO -- that the logical confusion so many apparent "doubles" induced caused the machines' IT components to overload.

It was definitely NOT because the machines don't recognise magical weapons. Noooo way! Not, of course, that [I]my characters killed any.[/insufferably virtuous]

No, I'd complain too, then I'd put my modhat on and listen to myself. You can't assume that (St Edmund's) lack of objection equals permission; he may simply have been in a hurry. When he's fully able to debate the topic, he'll say so, and then you can post your suggestions, ask his opinions and let him incorporate them if he chooses.

I understand you don't intend to hijack the proposal, but the sort of summary you're suggesting is, traditionally, the proposal author's prerogative. Proposal writers sometimes name others as co-author, if they've taken a big part in the drafting, but that's up to them. The NS UN is heavy on tradition, especially when it involves a respected, even if frequently disagreed-with, member. And, as many said in their posts in his thread, RL comes first; this can wait.

As for the RP aspects, hang on a sec till I switch accounts. Mods have as little role as possible in RPs.

OOC: Ahhhhh i see. In that case Vulpes can feel free to nail me with a mallet over the head for being a noob as for why i might have sounded snappish, i apologize but i was having a nice time Rping and then a par of people who i have no real idea of how they stand come in and tell me im wrong and they dont even have the decesny to RP it. it annoyed me.

Ardchoilleans;13328492']Okay, bit of housekeeping.
OOC on roleplayed discussions of legislation: Though it cuts me to the quick, I have to say I think Kenny is right for once. It is true that real-life diplomats would discuss detailed strategy about legislation, but not in the Strangers Bar. IceForge, Vulpes Vixenis, did you know that the UN Press Gallery has a permanent pool member in the Bar? Further, the number of concealed microphones, invisible delegates, beings with super-hearing and telepaths is uncountable. In the Blessed First Post, you find


So if you RP any sort of deal in the Bar, you're more or less inviting others to RP ways to undo it, thwart it, complicate it or have fun with it. But Neville the BarLord has such a strict ban on actual proposal-content "work" in the bar that my President has to fold all her official letters into paper plane shapes so he won't realise she uses the Bar as an office.



OOC: see? thats the kind of thing that a non-moderator could say to make me stop. Raises a few good points too.....

OOC: I'm thinking it was the "OMGTKK can go drown in sewage" part that prevented me from posting likewise. When you refer to a nation as "he" it sort of sends the impression that you're attacking the player. And for future reference, OMGTKK's primary UN rep is a "she."

OK, done with the threadjack now. G'day.

"SO HOW ABOUT THAT LOCAL SPORTS TEAM?" said Samantha.

Agreed, I buy everyone a Grappa! Enjoy the drinks!!!

"SO HOW ABOUT THAT LOCAL SPORTS TEAM?" said Samantha.

"WHICH ONE?" queried Dicey, equally loudly. Feeling fairly confident that the QoD rep knew as little about sport as she did, she looked forward to an enjoyably confusing few minutes' conversation. She was, unfortunately, interrupted.

"Dicey! Dicey, what should I do?" whispered Avaya urgently.

"Tuck your tail between your legs, slink on out of here and wait till we can Have a Talk," her chief responded grimly.

"No, not that. It's the Brutland and Norden man. He asked me to be a Soul Parent to his twins."

Dicey put down her drink; she didn't want to spill a drop, and talking to Avaya lately seemed a bit calamity-inducing. "And you said ...?"

"I said I'd love to, but I had to get permission from my Chef de Mission."

"Way to pass the buck. There's hope for you yet," the older witch approved. "I think I'd better have a chat with him myself. I don't know much about the B&Ns, and we don't want you stuck with trying to be a proper Soul Parent if they're going to bring the kids up ... you know ... monotheistic." She shuddered, belted back a hefty slug and had an inspiration. "Hey, did he actually say 'Soul Parent'?"

"No, he said 'godmother'."

"Well, that might be all right, then. In some cultures it's just a social thing, not religious at all. Look, this isn't the time to bother him, anyway. They're leaving, and he's got his hands full." She nodded towards the Brutland and Norden delegation as they edged their way through the crowd.

"He's looking our way. Just give him a wave and a smile," she said, doing so herself. "Don't worry, I'll handle it. You go play with Sammy, or something. You probably won't have time for that ... later," she added ominously.

Avaya took off with an alarmed squeak and Dicey settled down to brood over her latest dilemma. If she made Avaya refuse it'd be an insult to a friendly nation. But if the poor kid took on the burden whole-heartedly there'd be the risk of 13 years of insults, culminating in a spectacular blow-up when Avaya offered the children the chance to be Awakened to the magical potential that most humans shared ... oh, damn! Memo self, before the next batch of Decisions we need more of that Serenity Chamomile from Mikitivity ... more and more kids seem to need it lately to ease the crossing ...

"Here," Violet interrupted sympathetically, "ShogunKhan's paying." The barmaid shoved a brimming tankard into the reluctant President's hand and thoughtfully lined up three more. She could see Dicey was bothered about something, and she always looked after the regulars.

A man walked into the bar, back ram-rod straight as if he had a board of wood sewn into the back of his smart navy blazer, hair neatly combed, fingernails trimmed, diamond cufflinks glinting from his freshly ironed and starched shirt.
A noble example of ambassadorial dress some would say. It fooled many, but there was a nervous twitch in his fingers, a tremble in his moustache and an almost vacant stare as he leaned one elbow on the bar, took out his cigarette case and ordered a bottle of Gaffaen red wine in a quiet monotone as he studied the scars running across the palms of his hands.
Indeed, it would surprise many that this example of respectable conformity was once the booming Gohn Jawey, before the Gaffaen Mental Asylum got a hold of him. Needless to say what he said happened had in fact happened and he did get out, but beauracracy takes it's time.

ooc: and with my latest essay I return to my tried and tested procrastination techniques.

Recieving a sudden feeling of impending doom, Sadrin Desides to do the traditional thing.

"Excuse me!" He says quickly to the Vulpines before hightailing it away from their booth. As soon as he leaves the feeling fades.

"Whew." He breathes out. "That was closer than that incident with the sword spider and the roosters." Casting his head about Sadrin began to look for something else to amuse himself with. Taking one of the offered drinks from the server, courtest of Shogunkhan, he happens to watch as the priestess from before scurries over to a smiliarly dressed woman before scurrying away looking chastised. Realizing that this woman must be the head priesstess woman, Sadrin downs his drink and sets the glass down before walking over to her.

"Excuse me," he says to her. "I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be that priestess' superior. I had meant to ask her about what sort of magic you lot use but she ran away... would you care to elabortate. Unless you have some sort of... prejudice against the undead and battle magics?

Slowly a hand grasped the bar and Sir Albert staggered to his feet, hauling hisself upright...sort of...well close enough for Sir Albert anyway.
"by eck" he slurred....one moment he was having a pre-Christmas drink and wandering just how much chocolate he should buy that strange chocoholic Dicey lass for Christmas, the next thing he wakes up looking at the floor and it's nearly the New Year.
"Oh, well", he thought as his addled brain caught up with his double vision, "saves on buying pressies and there's still drinking time left this year".

"ere, Neville, owd lad, drinks for the whole bar, Bahgum is loaded, and ah've geet to celebrate lasting a whole two days longer before passing out from drink this year!"

OOC: I feel I must point out this particular section of the initial post. This is the reason I continued the conversation.

OOC: The theory is simple, instead of trumpeting proposals constantly, UN members can come in and sit down here in peace and quiet to discuss the ins and outs of certain issues and then trumpet proposals.

Secondly, the conversation had moved on prior to the interruption and was unlikely to return to it, at least in my opinion. Thirdly, I welcome attempts to undo me in an rp form. It will only help me improve my tactics. I'm admittedly new to nation governing and politicking, and I'll be happy to learn.

Lastly, if I sound snippy, I appologize, but it's hard to sound reasonable in text when you're responding defensively.

Before she can answer, the odd delegate retreats with all haste. Vaela gives a sigh, leaning back against her brother.

"Well... at least we know we have one supporter," she says, "even if he is a bit... um..."

Jakart decides to supply a few descriptives. "Ripe? Creepy? Overly enthusiastic?"

She reaches back to give him a gentle swat across the nose. "Quirky. Quirky is the word I was looking for. Ah well... I suppose the politics can remain on the floor for now. It has been some time since I was away from those chambers, flitting from one room to another. Perhaps I should slow down... Are you sure you won't give me a small vacation?"

He nods. "Yes. You will never convince me to enter those chambers. At least, not without half a brigade, fully armed and ready to fire." He chuckles at the thought.

The Queen lifts a brow, glancing back at him. "Never? We'll see about that. For now, though... I like it here. I'm taking a nap. Order some food. Something hot and tough, so I can rip it to shreds."

He laughs. "I thought you were leaving the politics on the floor?"

While Sadrin is busy trying to get the Archollian woman to nswer his questions, he has unfortunatnly forgotten about Patchwork! The Abomination stands still for a few moments after being left by his master before seeing a buffet table. Being a monstroisty Patchwork has an insatiable appetite and proceeds to grunt before rushing the buffet table, leaving choas in his wake.

(OOC: just thought i'd get a post in to bump this forum back up and amuse myself while Sadrin waits for his answer. Have fun!)

"If I made her Minister for Foreign Affairs she'd have to talk to McGonnagle a lot more ... maybe the Secretary for Situations Like This could teach her a bit of common-sense ... Goddess knows I can't," Dicey mused, oblivious of irony.
"Excuse me .... I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be that priestess' superior. I had meant to ask her about what sort of magic you lot use but she ran away... would you care to elabortate. Unless you have some sort of... prejudice against the undead and battle magics?"

"Prejudice? Me?" Dicey turned, ready to tear strips off the intruder, but found it was the Ice Forge delegate. Sigh. Professional courtesy, dammit.

"You're a mage yourself, I see?" she ventured, scrabbling her way out of her well of thought to grab the rim of minimal politeness. "You'd understand, then, that neither of us are priestesses. I'm a witch, Avaya's another." Though Goddess knows how she got past the second degree ... no, that's not fair, she's quite accomplished, really ... Shaking her curls, Dicey forced herself to concentrate of her surroundings. Wonder where that drink went? She grabbed a liquid lifeline and continued.

"Our system. Ah. Well, if you can be bothered to hunt up one of last century's Wiccan texts, you've got it, pretty much. With this difference: we know what will work, why it works and how it works, we can make it work every time, and we can express it as a magematical formula, which makes it a lot easier to test hypotheses." She caught Bast's eye and hastily added, "We couldn't have done it without the Cats, of course."

"Of course," agreed the Cat smoothly, strolling up with his customary Baileys-and-milk. "We're Magical Creatures," he explained, slurping inelegantly. "Dicey's lot have to study to do magic; we don't. We are magic."

"Yes, but you can never improve what you're born with, whereas we ..." She interrupted herself in the middle of what was obviously a long-standing argument. "Sorry, Mr ... er... Sadrin, isn't it? I do try to learn the new delegates' names, but ... well, anyway, half our people are human, and ninety per cent of humans are born with magical potential. But, until we ran into the Cats, the talent was, well, pretty dicey."

Bast grinned perfunctorily. "Ha. Looka me laughing, Dice. We act as boosters for any magic," he explained, turning politely to Sadrin. "Wouldn't be surprised if it worked with your people, too. Anyway, when we're around, just simple exposure to us works on that gland at the base of the brain ..."

"He didn't ask for a medical lecture," Dicey interrupted. "Anyway, the thing is, we can now Awaken human magic with a 90% success rate, and once it's awakened, the students learn to apply it to the best of their ability."

"Or, in some cases, not," Bast said. "Then they end up President for Life of Ardchoille. I should explain, Mr Sadrin, that you're talking to a proven criminal. Don't look at me like that, Dicey," he added. "He's new, and he needs to know."

... splutter splutter wrongfully convicted splutter splutter ...

"Of course, being new, you probably have many demands on your time," the Cat added, giving the newcomer the chance to retreat if he had any cultural qualms about mixing with the criminal classes.

While Sadrin is busy trying to get the Archollian woman to nswer his questions, he has unfortunatnly forgotten about Patchwork! The Abomination stands still for a few moments after being left by his master before seeing a buffet table. Being a monstroisty Patchwork has an insatiable appetite and proceeds to grunt before rushing the buffet table, leaving choas in his wake.

(OOC: just thought i'd get a post in to bump this forum back up and amuse myself while Sadrin waits for his answer. Have fun!)

Alan was busy drinking when he noticed the commotion brewing at the buffet table...it was the Abomination eating the whole buffet table....He concentrated and let loosed a maelstrom...effectively stopping the monster in it's tracks....
Alan called out to the Ice forge delegate....HEY SALADRIN YOUR MONSTER ALMOST ATE ALL OF THE PIZZA!!! IF IT WASN'T FOR THE FACT THAT HE'S YOUR PET HE'D BE FRIED BY NOW!!! NOW PLEASE GET THE BLOKE OFF THE BLOODY BUFFET TABLE RIGHT NOW!!!!!

OOC:There we go crisis averted :D

Ardchoilleans;13337486']"If I made her Minister for Foreign Affairs she'd have to talk to McGonnagle a lot more ... maybe the Secretary for Situations Like This could teach her a bit of common-sense ... Goddess knows I can't," Dicey mused, oblivious of irony.


"Prejudice? Me?" Dicey turned, ready to tear strips off the intruder, but found it was the Ice Forge delegate. Sigh. Professional courtesy, dammit.

"You're a mage yourself, I see?" she ventured, scrabbling her way out of her well of thought to grab the rim of minimal politeness. "You'd understand, then, that neither of us are priestesses. I'm a witch, Avaya's another." Though Goddess knows how she got past the second degree ... no, that's not fair, she's quite accomplished, really ... Shaking her curls, Dicey forced herself to concentrate of her surroundings. Wonder where that drink went? She grabbed a liquid lifeline and continued.

"Our system. Ah. Well, if you can be bothered to hunt up one of last century's Wiccan texts, you've got it, pretty much. With this difference: we know what will work, why it works and how it works, we can make it work every time, and we can express it as a magematical formula, which makes it a lot easier to test hypotheses." She caught Bast's eye and hastily added, "We couldn't have done it without the Cats, of course."

"Of course," agreed the Cat smoothly, strolling up with his customary Baileys-and-milk. "We're Magical Creatures," he explained, slurping inelegantly. "Dicey's lot have to study to do magic; we don't. We are magic."

"Yes, but you can never improve what you're born with, whereas we ..." She interrupted herself in the middle of what was obviously a long-standing argument. "Sorry, Mr ... er... Sadrin, isn't it? I do try to learn the new delegates' names, but ... well, anyway, half our people are human, and ninety per cent of humans are born with magical potential. But, until we ran into the Cats, the talent was, well, pretty dicey."

Bast grinned perfunctorily. "Ha. Looka me laughing, Dice. We act as boosters for any magic," he explained, turning politely to Sadrin. "Wouldn't be surprised if it worked with your people, too. Anyway, when we're around, just simple exposure to us works on that gland at the base of the brain ..."

"He didn't ask for a medical lecture," Dicey interrupted. "Anyway, the thing is, we can now Awaken human magic with a 90% success rate, and once it's awakened, the students learn to apply it to the best of their ability."

"Or, in some cases, not," Bast said. "Then they end up President for Life of Ardchoille. I should explain, Mr Sadrin, that you're talking to a proven criminal. Don't look at me like that, Dicey," he added. "He's new, and he needs to know."

... splutter splutter wrongfully convicted splutter splutter ...

"Of course, being new, you probably have many demands on your time," the Cat added, giving the newcomer the chance to retreat if he had any cultural qualms about mixing with the criminal classes.

Sadrin nodded intently as he listened to the explanation before giving a small fanged smile.

"I see! That is a most interesting magical system. Quite different from our own though. In Ice Forge there are several types of magic, though the most commen are the big three; Sorcery, Necromancy, and my own specialty Fel Magic. When a person reaches the age of twelve they are given the option of enrolling in one of the three collages to learn one of the arts, and evntually gain an apprenticeship. Just about all of the Forsaken have some potential in one of the arts, but none of us can use any of what is termed Light Magic. Has something to do with us being Undead i think..."

He then looks at the cat, Bast he thinks his name is, and smiles a bit. "I will admit i have never seen your like before though. Warlocks like me often use bound demons to fuel greater spells but no one where we come from has a partnership with a magical being like yourself. Also, it doesn't matter if... Dicey is your name? Ahh yes, if Dicey is a criminal as you say. We Forgemen have a flexable approach to that anyway. As far as we care, Crime is a business like any other. As such, the guilds regulate it." After saying this, he leans in conspiratorily.

"If you really want to get into that scene, my younger cousin is guild mistress of one of the larger theives guilds. They're always looking out for new recruits with potential."

OOC: lol

A rather tall cloaked man walks in with a rather nasty looking wolf at his heels. He is the Delegate of the Borderlands of Saldaea know simply as Longclaw. He walks over to Saladrin and sits down, the wolf lays down at his feet but remains watchful. Longclaw flips his hood back reveling yellow eyes, the characteristic sign of a wolfbrother. He then says "Hay Saladrin. you might want to control your Abomination. Normaly I'd help you out but he just ate the pizza, not cool"

A rather tall cloaked man walks in with a rather nasty looking wolf at his heels. He is the Delegate of the Borderlands of Saldaea know simply as Longclaw. He walks over to Saladrin and sits down, the wolf lays down at his feet but remains watchful. Longclaw flips his hood back reveling yellow eyes, the characteristic sign of a wolfbrother. He then says "Hay Saladrin. you might want to control your Abomination. Normaly I'd help you out but he just ate the pizza, not cool"

OOC: Dude Saldaeans i know your new, but maybe you should read more than just the last post? My delegate is in the middle of a conversation at the bar, not at the booth. Also, don't you think that my own regions appointed UN Delegate would know that Ice Forge's delegate is Sadrin, not Saladrin?

OOC:Just a fyi I maelstromed ur abomination :D

Violet the barmaid wasn't easy to catch as she scuttled about her duties, but Neville managed it with his usual BarLordian aplomb.

"Drop everything, Vi, and get this out to as many customers as you can!" he ordered, shoving a tray of glasses at her.

Violet eyed the unwholesome-looking cocktails doubtfully. Milky, chalky and smelling vaguely medicinal, they weren't going to be easy to get down anybody's throat, even if Neville had bothered to put in icecubes, fruit and paper umbrellas. Which he hadn't.

"They're Stabilisers," the BarLord explained. "See, there's been a lot of people doing things totally Out Of Character lately. Must be something in the water. So this'll help sort of, you know, firm them up. Keep them healthily In their normal Character. It also makes people more, ah, regular, which is always a good thing," he added.

Violet, still doubtful, took over the noxious treats -- "Of course you want them! They're free!" seemed to be her main sales pitch -- while Neville sloshed Old 'n' Funky '98 uisquebaugh into a particularly large one and hovered grimly over Dicey.

"C'mon, Neville, what's this all about?" the President-for-Life said, startled. "I've been as much myself as I always am."

"I heard what you did to the kid," the BarLord returned, unsmiling. "Totally out of character, Madame."

"Madame? What gives? Excuse me a moment," she told Bast and Sadrin. "Neville, what's going on?" she whispered heatedly. "You haven't called me 'Madame' since the first day I fell over in here. I thought we were friends!"

"And I thought you were fair," he retorted, with equal heat. "You made that poor girl Foreign Minister, just for a little thing like demons. You know perfectly well we can deal with demons here with one arm tied behind our backs. Really, Ms Reilly, that was mean."

"She deserved it," Dicey said stiffly. "Anyway, how did you know about that, Mister Chamberlain? I've only just told her." One of the benefits of telepathy, she'd thought at the time. When you had to have a Little Chat with someone, at least you could keep it confidential.

"She announced it in the General Assembly. Look." Neville replayed the video footage on a nearby monitor:

... Avaya Thibaudet, wrongfully Minister for Foreign Affairs, Ardchoille.

Dicey's ears burned. So now the whole GA saw her as a martinet who bullied poor little (relatively) innocent interns.

"It was for her own good," she hissed. "She's got to learn sometime. And, personally, I don't see what business it is of yours how I run my delegation, at all."

Disdainfully, she swung around on the barstool, presenting Neville with an offended expanse of richly-robed back, and dabbed unobtrusively at her eyes.

He could at least have trusted her! It really was for Avaya's own good -- this would just go down on the intern's record as a minor academic goof, the sort of thing that could happen to any student. Not like what the Oldest Coven had wanted her charged with: Criminal Performance of Magic to the Detriment of the Uninitiated.

It had taken all Dicey's not-inconsiderable skill at lyi-- at prevarication -- to convince them that Avaya had been performing an Advanced Magic Prac exercise under her mentor's personal, licensed supervision. She understood exactly what they were up to. Phillippe was willing to make his own niece a criminal if it helped prove that Dicey could never be considered responsible enough to become Chancellor of the University of Ardrigh.

But if it was an academic exercise gone so seriously wrong, plainly the student in question had been reprehensibly careless and deserved disciplinary action. That wasn't just Phillippe's opinion; several of them had said it, even the notoriously upright leader of the Young Ardchoilleans. So she'd had to jump on her intern publicly, even if she had every intention of freeing the kid from the burden as soon as the fuss died down.

And now even Neville was misjudging her. Well, she'd show them, though she wasn't sure exactly how. But in the meantime, there was still diplomacy.

... "If you really want to get into that scene, my younger cousin is guild mistress of one of the larger theives guilds. They're always looking out for new recruits with potential."

"Well, thank you, but I've quite enough to keep me busy here. But I'm sure we have several young people who might be ideologically interested in the redistribution of wealth and property.

"But tell me more, Mr Sadrin, it's always interesting to discuss the Art. Your magical divisions, for example, would that entail anything similar to ours? Ardchoillean talents usually tend to the conventional -- Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Although we do have the occasional sport, like the Pink Magician." She smiled fondly, wondering where that entertaining and eccentric character was now. "I'm a Firewitch, myself."

Ardchoilleans;13340557']
"But tell me more, Mr Sadrin, it's always interesting to discuss the Art. Your magical divisions, for example, would that entail anything similar to ours? Ardchoillean talents usually tend to the conventional -- Earth, Air, Fire and Water. Although we do have the occasional sport, like the Pink Magician." She smiled fondly, wondering where that entertaining and eccentric character was now. "I'm a Firewitch, myself."

When the witch across from him turned back to him Sadrin couldn't help but be a little dissapointed to hear that he wasn't going to be able to help his little cousin Abbi get a new recruit, but the question he was presented with cheered him up.

"Well," He began, "Those who practice Sorcery, we call them mages, Do use elemental fire and ice a lot, as well as the Arcane. Necromancers however focus on the energies of death and undeath more than anything else, with some small focus on ice magic. Warlocks on the other hand work with the energies of the place we call the Twisting Nether, a rather nasty dimension that demons reside in. Warlocks use the energies of hell fire and shadow as well as bind demons that they summon to do their bidding. I myself am a certified Master Warlock actually.

Longclaw slowly turned to Sadrin and said "Sorry to interupt but, I wish I had those elemental powers, It would be rather usefull in the wild," leaning forward curiously.


(by the way Sadrin sorry about the name. And also when did I say booth? I just said I sat down near you, nothing about a booth)

Longclaw slowly turned to Sadrin and said "Sorry to interupt but, I wish I had those elemental powers, It would be rather usefull in the wild," leaning forward curiously.


(by the way Sadrin sorry about the name. And also when did I say booth? I just said I sat down near you, nothing about a booth)

Sadrin has to stifle a sigh at the interuption by his regional superior. "Yes, i know you have wanted to be able to mainuplate the elements for some time Longclaw." He said with a tight smile. "But you and i both know that your status as a wolfbrother makes that impossible. Be happy with what you can do, eh? Oh and you think you could send your wolf over to dissapate Patchwork for me? Just have it tear into the beasty a few times and Patchwork should dissapear.

Ugh man the smell!! I can't take it any more!!! Shouted alan...Raising his hands and concentrating he unleashed a powerful focused psionic blast upon the abomination....to no effect....Hmmm he thought out loud maybe i should use my laax form....And so with a loud grunt...he was transformed....into a laax. Stretching his wings Alan turned around to the Ice forge delegate and spoke in a rather deep demonic voice.....Sadrin...may i please burn your abommination...apparently my psionic powers have no effect on the beast....I want to see how tough it is against my laax form.

Ugh man the smell!! I can't take it any more!!! Shouted alan...Raising his hands and concentrating he unleashed a powerful focused psionic blast upon the abomination....to no effect....Hmmm he thought out loud maybe i should use my laax form....And so with a loud grunt...he was transformed....into a laax. Stretching his wings Alan turned around to the Ice forge delegate and spoke in a rather deep demonic voice.....Sadrin...may i please burn your abommination...apparently my psionic powers have no effect on the beast....I want to see how tough it is against my laax form.


Sadrin sighs at yet another interuption. "Knock yourself out Alan." He says

Though customers who suddenly morphed into something else entirely were just another facet of life in the Bar, Violet's attention was drawn to this one. She'd always like wings.

But the conversation she overheard made her check to see if Neville had noticed what was going on. Not likely: he was in some sort of snit, furiously and pointedly polishing glasses way up the other end of the bar. As usual, she snorted, anything practical was left up to her.

"Here, Jimmy, be ready," she ordered, shoving a soda-syphon into the part-timer's hands and arming herself with one.

"Why not fire-extinguishers?" he queried.

"Because fire-extinguishers don't come loaded with holy water. Honestly, Jimmy, don't you know anything?"

longclaw, still looking at Sadrin continues quetioning despite whats going on, "oh well, I guees my wolf doesn't have to do any thing now, but anyways I was not talking about elemental powers for myself but for others in my nation. I can talk to wolves so I don't really need it but my cousin isn't a wolfbrother so it would be useful to him."

Sir Albert perks up, "can you speak to ferrets too?".

Ardchoilleans;13343599']"Because fire-extinguishers don't come loaded with holy water. Honestly, Jimmy, don't you know anything?"

The old Kawaiian nekomusume handed a medium-sized red fire extinguisher to Violet and Jimmy, saying, "Here, you can use ours. I had it re-charged and re-consecrated after that demonic possession incident earlier."

Alan concentrated and let loosed a stream of fire at the creature...in matter of seconds it was gone....now for the matter of containing the fire so it doesn't engulf the bar......

OOC: I'm back into this again!

IC:

John Macked walked into the bar, carrying an electric guitar a Gibson SG, and an amp. Figuring that music would be good for good foreign relations, he brought it. He would be noticed, for he was six foot four, and his hair was cut in a flat top, and he had blue eyes, with brown hair, and a handlebar mustache. He said "Hello! I am John Macked the representative from Calizorinstan"

'hello John', slurred Sir Albert, 'can you speak to ferrets?'. Then looking at the guitar, almost falling over with the effort...'ere, do you know anyone who can play that banjo of yours?'.

'hello John', slurred Sir Albert, 'can you speak to ferrets?'. Then looking at the guitar, almost falling over with the effort...'ere, do you know anyone who can play that banjo of yours?'.

John took out his guitar, and plugged it to the amp, and he said "I can play you a song.." He started to play "Crossroads", and then when he got to the solo,his fingers moved like lightning!

hmm i could use a man of your talents at the party im holding for my son Jaric
He had just recently turned 12 and is into your kind of music...although you'll be playing for protoss...Laax...Techicandrai...Jad and many more alien races...

hmm i could use a man of your talents at the party im holding for my son Jaric
He had just recently turned 12 and is into your kind of music...although you'll be playing for protoss...Laax...Techicandrai...Jad and many more alien races...

Alien races! We must deport them at once! Contaminating social stability!

Where is our international legislature when we need them?! And this is supposed to be a social bar. Well, social bar my arse, you've just violated my nation's policies. It is our belief that in the occupation of our queen, all lands become under our jurisdiction. Arrest!

Hey hey cool down....*turns to Sadrin and whispers into his ear* is he always like this?

Alien races! We must deport them at once! Contaminating social stability!

Where is our international legislature when we need them?! And this is supposed to be a social bar. Well, social bar my arse, you've just violated my nation's policies. It is our belief that in the occupation of our queen, all lands become under our jurisdiction. Arrest!

Sadrin turns away from his multi-person conversation is annoyance when he heres a new voice begin trumpeting for the arrest of all non-humans in tha bar. Fixing the delegate with a withering glare, he says in a steady voice, "Will you please shut up! Some of us are trying to have conversations here, and if you havn't noticed there are more than a few non-humans in this bar and im relativly sure that if you tried to arrest us you'd not only be inciting war with all of our nations but also you would likely end up quite... dead." Finishing his statement with a quick flourish with his dagger which dissapears as quickly as it appears he turns to Alan.

Hey hey cool down....*turns to Sadrin and whispers into his ear* is he always like this?

"Really, i have no idea." He says quitetly back. "I've never met this guy or heard of his nation. All i know is that its guyslike this that make me really want non-human rights legislation to pass."

hmm i could use a man of your talents at the party im holding for my son Jaric
He had just recently turned 12 and is into your kind of music...although you'll be playing for protoss...Laax...Techicandrai...Jad and many more alien races...

John shrugged and he said 'No problemo.." He started doing a long rock and roll solo, then some metal, and he said "Any song requests from anyone?"

Alan concentrated and let loosed a stream of fire at the creature...in matter of seconds it was gone....now for the matter of containing the fire so it doesn't engulf the bar......

Prince Rhodri walked back into the Strangers' Bar for the first time in quite a while, just in time to see a very large... something unleash an attack on a... something else. Well, his instant assumption was that it was an attack, though what at first sight seemed to be a bright fiery bolt sizzled in a remarkably unfire-like manner. However, instead of setting the bar light where the bolt licked at it, the wooden surface suddenly gleamed as if a very large number of drunken ambassadorial staff hadn't spent months dripping a variety of sticky alcoholic beverages all over it. Then a strong smell of furniture polish hit him. The second thing had disappeared from the immediate line of sight of the first thing, cowering under a table either by some vestigial sense of self-preservation or due to truly inept footwork, and seemed to have attracted the attention of a ferret.

The point at which the Prince remembered the bar's peculiar defences, and the silly things they tended to do to weapons and harmful intent in the area, was unfortunately slightly after he drew the wooden dagger that was part of his official costume. He threw what was now a rubber banana on the bar with a sigh. "A pint of porter please, Neville," he said.

He pulled a copy of Giles' Fighting Demons out of his pocket and started thumbing through it. Really, the UN was letting anyone in these days.

Alan turned to the new comer and spoke in a demonic voice....For your information. I am not a demon i am a laax....A alien race that are pyrokenetic
by evolution....Alan shrugged and reverted back to his human form....Alright im not only a protoss human hybrid but part laax as well...My mother was a Protoss laax hybrid while my father was a protoss human hybrid...I'd tell you the process on how this is so...But i really never did well on genetics so..let's leave it at that ok?

"We must confess to never getting the hang of biology ourself," Prince Rhodri admitted. Laax? Protoss? Hybrids? He really would have to start reading the briefing notes on new ambassadors more carefully. "Your very good health, then," he added, raising his pint glass.

I don't know what you just mean by that...But i'd rather not divulge into it.
So any one up for one more round? Im buyin!!

"Really, i have no idea." He says quitetly back. "I've never met this guy or heard of his nation. All i know is that its guyslike this that make me really want non-human rights legislation to pass."

Having finally left her booth, brother in tow and a chalky "stabiliser" drink in hand, Queen Vaela Dorn eases her way into the conversation.

"I couldn't agree more, and that's a rather disgraceful display to put on in such an upstanding establishment."

The two foxes give a nod to the wolfbrother and the Ardichokian... Archidilian... to the firewitch, adding a bow for the bast.

"I do beg pardon, but I overheard, and hopefully my dear Sandrin will not mind... You are capable of awakening magical potential in 90% of humans? What of other races, particularly those that incorporate humanity in their makeup? The many races of my nation were genetically built, with the human form as a framework. The amount of human genetics varies by species. My question is this: Do you think it would be possible to do such a thing for my poeples? In theory, at the least."

Strathfield walks in and takes a seat at the booth with Mirah Leinenkugel.

"The Abolition of Forced Labour passed. Whatcha drinkin'?"

"Whiskey, get your own."

"Will do."

Strathfield heads to the bar.

WHISKEY? ........ WHISKEY? I thought it was Vodka night?


Alright I'll finish these three bottles and get me some whiskey! Hooah!

Any care to join me?

Alan turned and Introduced himself to queen Vaela. Most interesting he pondered. So your race is half human half fox? or are there many more genetic mixes than what i see here? Just then Alan's phone rang. He answered it. JARIC he gushed. What is it that you want? Alan spoke into the headset. Whoah stop and rewind please!! Your coming over here? At the UN? NOW?! Alan shouted. Yeah mom wanted us to spend more quality time together and it was either that or she would kill you when you get home..Anyways im over the UN building now...replied his son. WHAT?! Alan stammered. DID YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU TO FLY YET?! He shouted into the headset earning the curious stares of the bar patrons....Alan sighed. I have to go every one My wife wants me to play catch with my son...or she'd skin me alive!! Alan said while reverting to his Laax form..Sadrin...can we continue this conversation later? I must go and play catch with my son... Alan said as he made his way towards the window....he opened it and felt the cool night air against his face. Reverting to his Laax form. Alan turned towards the bar patrons and said...don't bother turning on the flood lights...Laax have superb night vision and with that he jumped off the window and soared into the air....

Alan turned and Introduced himself to queen Vaela. Most interesting he pondered. So your race is half human half fox? or are there many more genetic mixes than what i see here? Just then Alan's phone rang. He answered it. JARIC he gushed. What is it that you want? Alan spoke into the headset. Whoah stop and rewind please!! Your coming over here? At the UN? NOW?! Alan shouted. Yeah mom wanted us to spend more quality time together and it was either that or she would kill you when you get home..Anyways im over the UN building now...replied his son. WHAT?! Alan stammered. DID YOUR MOTHER TEACH YOU TO FLY YET?! He shouted into the headset earning the curious stares of the bar patrons....Alan sighed. I have to go every one My wife wants me to play catch with my son...or she'd skin me alive!! Alan said while reverting to his Laax form..Sadrin...can we continue this conversation later? I must go and play catch with my son... Alan said as he made his way towards the window....he opened it and felt the cool night air against his face. Reverting to his Laax form. Alan turned towards the bar patrons and said...don't bother turning on the flood lights...Laax have superb night vision and with that he jumped off the window and soared into the air....

Queen Vaela attempts to appear nonplussed. "And he thinks us curious..."

She takes a sip of the stabiliser, grimacing at it. Glancing around, she sets it on a nearby table and surrepticiously pushes it towards someone who isn't looking. Jakart simply downs the entire thing and heads over to the bar for another.

"What do you call that swag?" he inquires of the bartender. "It doesn't have much kick, and tastes like stewed dung! Not that I'd know what stewed dung tastes like, of course."

no one?


well more for me! Hooah! (the delegate continued his drinking spree)

As the buzz of conversation continues, a shadowy figure appears from the shadows of the room as if was a shadow himself. He is covered in a black robe from head to toe fringed in red runes. His face is pale as death itself and there can be seen two fangs growing from his mouth. He surveys the area with his red-irised eyes and walks twords Ice Forge, taking a seat next to him. He then takes a skin of blood from beneath his robe and starts drinking...

Sir Albert perks up, "can you speak to ferrets too?". Longclaw turns to him and replies "no sorry I can only speak wolves" then turns back to Sadrin and flips his cloak back reveling a wicked looking half moon axe and says "I'll back the non-humans too, I don't think think they will much like wolfs teeth sinking into there leg holding them down as my axe cleaves through their neck. My friend (the wolf) and I dislike fighting but, teeth and claws combine well with steel. Also, " He drops his voice so as not to be overheard, "whats with the creepy blood sucking vampire?"

Markas replies to Longclaw from under the hooded robe, "I must say, I get that a lot. Many times, the people whom speak that to me, or anything like it, find their bodily fluids into this sack here from whence I am drinking. And by fluids, I mean blood friend, so do not tempt me."

Nigel enters the bar, thoughts of his college days on his mind, ever since the blast it's been hard to concentrate on work. He wanted to be in Hyperion.

He took a seat at the bar, and called the barman over... the usual.

After the scotch and soda was poured he looked round the room. "The normal collection of crazies, I see" he said.

So, Nigel is it? I pose this question to you. If the world is full of crazies, does that make you the only sane person left?

Nigel enters the bar, thoughts of his college days on his mind, ever since the blast it's been hard to concentrate on work. He wanted to be in Hyperion.

He took a seat at the bar, and called the barman over... the usual.

After the scotch and soda was poured he looked round the room. "The normal collection of crazies, I see" he said.

No! I'm here too! part of the abnormal collection of crazies!!!! Hooah!

So, Nigel is it? I pose this question to you. If the world is full of crazies, does that make you the only sane person left?

No, just one more in the looney bin my dark friend. One more in the bin.

Longclaw turns to him and replies "no sorry I can only speak wolves" then turns back to Sadrin and flips his cloak back reveling a wicked looking half moon axe and says "I'll back the non-humans too, I don't think think they will much like wolfs teeth sinking into there leg holding them down as my axe cleaves through their neck. My friend (the wolf) and I dislike fighting but, teeth and claws combine well with steel. Also, " He drops his voice so as not to be overheard, "whats with the creepy blood sucking vampire?"

"A creepy blood sucking vampire?", overhears Sir Albert, "no mate, that's just the mother in law security squad"

As the buzz of conversation continues, a shadowy figure appears from the shadows of the room as if was a shadow himself. He is covered in a black robe from head to toe fringed in red runes. His face is pale as death itself and there can be seen two fangs growing from his mouth. He surveys the area with his red-irised eyes and walks twords Ice Forge, taking a seat next to him. He then takes a skin of blood from beneath his robe and starts drinking...

Seeing the latest new arrival to the bar, Sadrin has to stifle a groan. 'Not this guy again.' he thinks. 'I barely got away from him before.'

Resigning himself to yet another arguement with his... collegue, he truned and greeted him.

"Hello again, Raven Lord. When did you hear about the bar?"

"A creepy blood sucking vampire?", overhears Sir Albert, "no mate, that's just the mother in law security squad"

Longclaw, confused, turns back to Sir Albert, "Do you mean he protects against mother-in-laws? Because then he is more then welcome but I mean if he is a mother-in-law.... then I don't know..." Longclaw sees Markas glaring at him with the bloody sack and decides to change his tack, "Oh, hello Markas long time no see," turns to Sadrin and continues under his breath "for good reason too, he killed my wolf, Smokefur, packmate. I wouldn't be surprised if thats the blood right there.

"Actually, your wolf's blood was given to the earth. I dislike the taste of wolf's blood anyways. Besides, Sadrin, you still have my artifact. My sword and amulet. I do suspect you hid the lock from the key, so to speak. But I will be wanting them back" replied Markas without looking up.

*Hama cha walks into the bar for the first time, the hawk on his shoulder squawks loudly, he recognizes some old friends* "Elyas!! its been a long time hows the pack doing."

Seeing the latest new arrival to the bar, Sadrin has to stifle a groan. 'Not this guy again.' he thinks. 'I barely got away from him before.'

Resigning himself to yet another arguement with his... collegue, he truned and greeted him.

"Hello again, Raven Lord. When did you hear about the bar?" you mean you now this guy too. well i will help in any way i can

Markas replies to Longclaw from under the hooded robe, "I must say, I get that a lot. Many times, the people whom speak that to me, or anything like it, find their bodily fluids into this sack here from whence I am drinking. And by fluids, I mean blood friend, so do not tempt me."

Prince Rhodri takes note of the newcomer and pauses in his drinking, intrigued. After a moment, pulls out a notebook and starts composing a letter to the editors of Giles'.

Dear Editors,

We understand that leather vestments are a characteristic feature of the Brooding Vampire as found within the Lands Without Shrimp, but we must ask your collected wisdom as to whether this is a mark of the species as a whole. If not, we believe we may have come into contact with a related species, tentatively identified as v. meditans ruber or Red Brooding Vampire for what appears to be its primary mode of dress...

"Actually, your wolf's blood was given to the earth. I dislike the taste of wolf's blood anyways. Besides, Sadrin, you still have my artifact. My sword and amulet. I do suspect you hid the lock from the key, so to speak. But I will be wanting them back" replied Markas without looking up.

Sadrin regards Markas with a contemptous look. "Yeah, you can have tha amulet and sword back as soon as you give back the bio research you had stolen from Nightscour Inc. After all, wouldn't want your nation to be ahead of mine."

*Hama cha walks into the bar for the first time, the hawk on his shoulder squawks loudly, he recognizes some old friends* "Elyas!! its been a long time hows the pack doing."

Longclaw turns to Hama Cha "Who is Elyas? I am Longclaw."

Evander Chymac, hailing from the beautiful nation of Jasper BlackFire, steps into the bar. Being much too lazy to read the vast plethora of previous posts, he is extremely perplexed by the state of the place. The only thing that appears normal is the presence of strange demons, many laying dead on the floor. What appears to be alcoholic concoctions filled with blood are being passed around the bar. He is intrigued and asks for a shot of it.

"Just remember, folks, nobody gets killed in the Strangers' Bar!" chirps Violet in her best customer-service-upbeat voice as she collects empty glasses. She waves a careless hand towards the tattered copy of the Barlordian Conventions (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12263098&postcount=1) that hangs by a nail on the noticeboard.

Her covetous glance sweeps over the Saldaean delegate’s wicked-looking half-moon axe. If only he could be tricked into drawing it! Lately the Acme machines have been turning weapons into lollies. If something that big were turned into orange-flavoured dark chocolate she would be in heaven.

Noting the banana Prince Rhodri accidentally produced, she doesn’t give much for her chances, though. The machines seem to be on a health kick.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two foxes give a nod to the wolfbrother and the Ardichokian ... Archidilian... to the firewitch, adding a bow for the bast.

Dicey bit her tongue. Did the newcomer realise how much she had revealed with that one word? So the Kennyites had already begun exercising their baneful influence on this innocent new nation, had they? Well, there was still a chance to keep them at least unaligned in the UN’s many camps.

<snip> ... You are capable of awakening magical potential in 90% of humans? <snip> … My question is this: Do you think it would be possible to do such a thing for my peoples? In theory, at the least."

“Well, I was actually talking about 90% of our humans, though I don’t see why it wouldn’t be possible,” she said. “It would be 100%, if it weren’t for the fact that 10% of our population are born without the ability to form the necessary brain linkages. It’s rather sad, really … though of course we don’t regard them as disabled in any way!” she added hastily. “They can live perfectly productive normal human lives, you know. Why, one of my delegation members is one, as a matter of fact. He’s over there – getting into another fight, I think. Edward William Kelly, of the Ardchoille Normal Society, ArdchoilleaNS. And they call themselves Normals, so I’m not being offensive,” she said righteously.

Somehow this didn’t seem to be going well. Best to lead the discussion away from that angle.

“What we’ve found is, most children are able to do minor magics from the time they’re born. Things like fumbling telepathy with their parents – you know how a mother always knows when her baby’s crying for a serious reason, rather than just crankiness? A bit of telekinesis, a bit of past-lives memory … by the time they get to kindergarten most kids can at least invoke blue-light protection … but I’m rambling,” she said, slurping the revolting Stabiliser cocktail thirstily.

“About your people – we’ve managed to make the necessary brain connections in humans of other nations if the subject is under human-25 and willing, or if the subject is older but constantly uses his creativity, though even the most brilliant mathematicians and musicians don’t respond all that well. Works fantastically on artists, though; writers, actors, roleplayers, IT folk, architects …” she trailed off.

Bast picked up the conversational ball: “Y’know, sometimes artists, particularly, have actually achieved the connections by themselves, without exposure to any other magically talented person, or even, as far as we can tell, to a Magical Creature. They put their natural magic into their work. It’s weird. But look, madame, the only way we could really know is to try it.”

He eyed her challengingly. He really wasn’t too good at picking human age in strangers. “It can be painful when it’s done late. But I think our intern Avaya keeps some of that Serenity Chamomile from Mikitivity, she still gets the occasional adolescent twinges, and that stuff helps enormously. Do you think there’s anyone in your delegation who might be a suitable subject?”

OOC: What does Violet look like, and I haven't seen her in the Stranger's Bar before..

IC:

John didn't hear Violet over the roar of his electric guitar solo, and then when it ended he said "Say what again?"

OOC: Check the BarLordian Conventions thread I linked to in my post. As to her appearance, I think Venerable Libertarians found her a satisfying armful. Sorry, I'm too flat out to answer IC.

OOC: It's alright.

IC:

John saw Violet, and she was once of the nicest looking girls he had seen, but he shook his head, and went back to composing an anthem for the strangers bar. He muttered lyrics underneath his breath "We few of the Stranger's Bar, coming from afar, yet we meet again twice.." He said "Oh forget it, there's too many things going on in the bar.."

Ardchoilleans;13364857']He eyed her challengingly. He really wasn’t too good at picking human age in strangers. “It can be painful when it’s done late. But I think our intern Avaya keeps some of that Serenity Chamomile from Mikitivity, she still gets the occasional adolescent twinges, and that stuff helps enormously. Do you think there’s anyone in your delegation who might be a suitable subject?”

She glances towards her brother, who for one reason or another is attempting to procure a second Stabiliser. "Well... I'm certain there is at least one volunteer present, and more could be sent for. Magic is something we have little experience with, being technologically produced with no mythology of our own. We've had no need for superstition and such. We know where we come from. However, since joining this gathering of minds and spirits, I've come across things I had never dreamt of. I'm quite certain my brother would enjoy trying, at the very least, and we've an abundance of creative individuals. That's one thing we've had to be in order to survive and grow. If you have the substance you mentioned readily available, we can try as soon as yourself and the Ardchoillean Ambassador are ready."

Jakart is meanwhile clueless, badgering the BarLord for the Stabiliser recipe and debating the merits and flaws of foul tasting beverages, mainly with himself.

OOC: And if I screwed up the title, please do correct me.

"Sadrin, friend, fine. But let us look at the options here. My nation could just completely roll over yours if we wanted to, but you are somehwat economically strong. I'll make a deal, give me back the sword, you can keep the amulet (it's actually a key I will explain about later), and we share the biological weapons research by opening up a hjoint-weapons lab. Agreed?" Markas leans forward, eyeing Sadrin. Markas then takes out a miniature crystal ball and chants some words. His eyes then roll back in his head and he begins scrying for something...

"Sadrin, friend, fine. But let us look at the options here. My nation could just completely roll over yours if we wanted to, but you are somehwat economically strong. I'll make a deal, give me back the sword, you can keep the amulet (it's actually a key I will explain about later), and we share the biological weapons research by opening up a hjoint-weapons lab. Agreed?" Markas leans forward, eyeing Sadrin. Markas then takes out a miniature crystal ball and chants some words. His eyes then roll back in his head and he begins scrying for something...

"Hmmmm.... I'll agree to those terms accept i want the research you stole back unopened and untampered with. The stuff in there is not something that is for sharing with others."

Longclaw catches Violet sneaking glances at the axe and shrugs uncomfotably shifting his cloak back over it, he never liked useing the axe even as a threat but sometimes the situation called for it. Then, refocusing on the bargaining happen ing in front of him, says to Sadrin and Markas, "how about you give the amulet back too, in exchange for the information back unread, sounds good right?"

The good but slightly unwholesome Senator looks up from his experiment in hobnailing his liver, to see what the fuss is all about. Looking at some of the newcomers he frowns and lifts a hand to get his secretary to briefly pause from what she was about to say. He reaches into his jacket pocket and makes a phone call. a few minutes later he hands up and smiles at Velma and says,
"Sorry about that, my dear, but I saw a business opportunity. Please continue."

About a half hour later, two Palentine interns walk over to Sulla's table with a couple of boxes and a sign. Some brief activity ensues while they set things up. After they leave we see the table now sports a sign, with some boxes, vials, and crucifixes arranged on the table.

Senator Sulla's Vampire Wards(TM)
Garlic: 2 cloves for $1.00
Vial of Holy water: $2.00
Silver Crucifix: $5.00
Buy 'em while supplies last

"Hmmmm.... I'll agree to those terms accept i want the research you stole back unopened and untampered with. The stuff in there is not something that is for sharing with others." you really want to agree to those terms!?!?! combined our nations can destroy him....OR he may never get back to report on this sudden devoplment *eyes vampire meaningfully and pulls out his claymore and lays it on the table as his hawk screetchs wheels away and there is a big ruckus and his hawk comes flying back with a glass of scotch* ah finally ive been waiting all day for one of these.

Longclaw turns to Hama Cha "Who is Elyas? I am Longclaw." sorry i can never remember who's who between you two.

you really want to agree to those terms!?!?! combined our nations can destroy him....OR he may never get back to report on this sudden devoplment *eyes vampire meaningfully and pulls out his claymore and lays it on the table as his hawk screetchs wheels away and there is a big ruckus and his hawk comes flying back with a glass of scotch* ah finally ive been waiting all day for one of these.

OOC: OH GOD, THE RUN-ON SENTENCES... THEY HURTS US!

IC: Evander strolls over to where some unusual figures are sitting, one with a hawk on his shoulder, the others looking rather sketchy. "What's this I hear about destruction of nations?" he says. "I'm always ready for violence." Evander takes a sip of the bloody concoction he received from the bartender and grimaces. It's a bit stronger than he's used to.

The delegates of the UN Debaters were in a corner table roaring with laughter, "...... and then the Office Of Confusion (OOC) of the UN Building Mgmt delegation said, in a serious tone: 'Quit godmodding.' ". The corner roared even louder with laughter, when the laughter died down a bit, one delegate asked another, "so what did you say?"

"Simple, I just asked to which action was he alluding to, the fact that some of us were thrown through a window or the fact that we pointed out his lack of authority to escort any of us out of these chambers?"

"What did he answer?"

"Nothing, he never heard us because the real authority cut off the microphone before we had our say, proved them wrong, it did!"

"Well at least they didn't use the Incomprehension Committee (IC) to express their dissatisfaction with our music... er our noise!"

The delegates continued on while drinking their several beverages on the table and going through the events of the past week.

OOC: Apparently you're a bit confused as to the meaning of the term "OOC." the term OOC means that I wasn't speaking as a character, but as the player behind the character. And furthermore, by ignoreing 99% of what took place in my post you were godmodding, which is frowned upon.
The delegates of the UN Debaters were in a corner table roaring with laughter, "...... and then the Office Of Confusion (OOC) of the UN Building Mgmt delegation said, in a serious tone: 'Quit godmodding.' ". The corner roared even louder with laughter, when the laughter died down a bit, one delegate asked another, "so what did you say?"

"Simple, I just asked to which action was he alluding to, the fact that some of us were thrown through a window or the fact that we pointed out his lack of authority to escort any of us out of these chambers?"

"What did he answer?"

"Nothing, he never heard us because the real authority cut off the microphone before we had our say, proved them wrong, it did!" "Bullshit it did," said Charles Gates emerging from behind the bar where he had been doing routine maintence on the ACME weapon nullifiers. "The fact of the matter is, your entire delegation was thrown out the window. This act was carried out by one of our Maintence of Order Department Squads, which has every right to do so because it is their job to insure the security of this building. Security which you comprimised by hacking our computer systems.

"Well at least they didn't use the Incomprehension Committee (IC) to express their dissatisfaction with our music... er our noise!"Well to be honest, the quickest way to undo the damage you did was to simply change the song that was going to play. I happen to be quite fond of Tiny Bubbles (http://www.waikiki-islanders.com/assets/multimedia/mp3/The%20Radio%20Years/15%20Tiny%20Bubbles.mp3). Furthermore, you can kiss any chance of getting an office in the building goodbye. I have contacted the Directory Maintence Department and told her to blacklist you, permenantly.

"Cut it out, you two," said Neville, slamming a pair of full tankards down beside the huffy pair.

"Unless you're going to have a decent brawl? You know what they say, debate it in the GA, duke it out in the Bar. It doesn't hurt ... much," he explained, turning to the new delegation. "Just give me time to rattle the screen down over the bar mirror, and then we've got the E-Z-Smash barstools, the Instabreak thin sugar bottles and glasses, the Supalite tables for throwing ... we've even got a muso to play theme music!" he added happily. "I knew there had to be a use for that Calizorinstan guy!"

"Don't be silly, Neville," scolded Violet, bustling up. "Charlie doesn't want to have to pay for ripped overalls and overtime -- and how will we keep things running if Maintenance is one guy down? Look, they just need to get to know one another better.

"UN Debaters delegation, meet Charles Gates of the UN Building Management," she said formally. "The Management keeps an eye on office allocations, blown lightbulbs, eradication of Robot Destructor Bunnies, that sort of thing. Oh, and our budget," she added, with a conspiratorial wink. "They're not a delegation, they're sort of ... well, they've just been around awhile. Good people to ask if you want some advice.

"And, Charlie, these are the UN Debaters," she continued. "Apparently there's been some mix-up, and the DA tags didn't get uploaded to their profiles -- that's Defenestration Advisories," she said, in an aside. "Some of the delegations are quite allergic to the process, and, of course, the UN tries to make all reasonable allowance for individual needs. Contingent on circumstances, naturally," she added vaguely.

"Contingent, schmingent!" Neville snorted. "Look, Vi, there's a lovely chocolate claymore over there ..." He eyed the potential combatants eagerly as the barmaid scuttled off. "She just doesn't understand these things, you know," he confided. "Charlie, how about you let the new guy have first swing? You're on your lunch hour, aren't you? There's plenty of time ..."

OOC: Quit the godmod(d)ing argument, willya? Hack locked that thread for good reason, and taking it up again was not smart. You've both got plenty of RP outs offered in my post, so play nice.

A group of 4 rowdy folk half-stumbled, half-charged their way into the Strangers Bar. They're obviously already quite innebriated 3 of the group are fellas and the third is a "sheila". As obviously denonted by their loud bantering in the group.

"Hey, Sheila.... I love you." one of the guys said, the others errupted into laughter "howls of derisive laughter, Bruce." The third Bruce having his say "Leave Bruce, he's obviously Drunk. We'll get him Bruce, Bruce as slept it off Bruce."

"That's fine for you fellas but Bruce just told me that he loved me... Ir's going be so awkward Bruce." "Nah, Sheila, don't worry, He'll forgot he'll ever said it by the time he wakes up. Infact reminds me, hey Bruce... Can I have a few bob?"

The Bruce that was so hammered that he barely knew what he say... "Yeah, sure Bruce." His hands moved down to his Jean pockets and started patting randomly arround tottally missing the obvious bulge where his wallet must be.

"I.. can't find Bruce... Sheila must have it..."

"Nah, Bruce, It's there Bruce in your pocket Bruce."

"Huh?"

"Right there Bruce." The third Bruce directed his drunken colleagues hand over where is wallet was.

"Ah, so it is Bruce, Here have a few bob."

The hand slid ever so carefully as if it was a determined effort to delve into mines unknown and with a look of triumph successfully pulled it out. However the triumph soom turned into that of despare as he faied to gain a firm grip on the wallet and it went flying accross the room onto the floor. As hit the ground coins erupted from the wallet spreading accross.

"Ugh, Help yourself Bruce."

"Let's get him to the table Bruce."
"Right you are Bruce."

And finally the 2 bruces sat their friend down on a chair while sheila took her own chair and sat down.

"Get the next round Bruce?" she asked, "Alright, but it's your shout next."

Markas returns to reality suddenly and speaks to Sadrin saying, "Fine, the amulet led to a vault filled with much gold. Just a little present to seal the deal. Besides, you can have your information back." Markas pulls out an envalope from under his robe and puts it on the table in front of him. It bears the seal of the country of Ice Forge. Markas then drums his fingers on the table on top of the document and says, "Now, where is the sweord and amulet? i already have a location for the facility in mind. It is in the stretch of desert separating our two countries. Together, we can make great progress. Besides, I don't think our citizens will be needing their money much anyways."
Markas then pulls out another envalope bearing the black raven of The Raven Lord and sets it down in front of himself along with the envalope containing the research papers. "This is is a map leading to the planned location." He then slides it over to Sadrin and turns to look at the ambassador from The Palentine, "Fool, do you really think those petty tools can actually kill vampires?"
He then takes out a silver rod from his robes and presses a button hidden on the shaft. The rod then elongates into a stake and Markas moves his robes aside so a clear path to his flesh can be seen. He then stands up and stabs himself through the chest wwith the stake and pulls it back out, there being no blood whatsoever. He then shouts to the bartender, "Another round of drinks for everyone!" and throws a bag of ten gold coins at the bartender and stis back down.
He then eyes the ambassador from Vulpes Vixenis warily from the corner of his hood, as if sizing up a threat a wolf poses to a hunter.

over by the bar there is a disturbance and the delegates start moving away restlessly. hama cha looks over to see a demon coming out of the floor. i look over at sadrin and say are those yours...?

Outside the door of the bar a pair of transporter beams appeared and then out of them materialised two women.

One wore a dark red wrap over jacket, black trousers, short boots and a dagger and small phaser slung on her hip. This was Lt Commander Hoshiko Sato.

Her other asian companion was the civilian ambassador (assuming their application was accepted off course) who would hold the NSUN seat. Ms Sakura Yamamoto was in her mid twenties like her military companion. She wore a pale blue kimono with a red and black obi as well as flat soled sandals. A female secretary would join them later on assuming their application was successful although they wouldn't keep an office here.

A Neo Kirisuban starship was in orbit and their offices would be there.

Then these good looking ladies entered the bar and Hoshiko found her phaser turning into a water pistol and her ceremonial dagger into a blunted wooden version of her blade.

"Wow, someone's shouted us all ready, Bruce." commented the Bruce who was on his way to the bar who soon added in "Beer please, and strong"

Vampires, demons, monsters, laaxes, the corruption of youth (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13364857&postcount=6965), barfights (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13367285&postcount=6979), necromancy of long-dead delegations (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13367846&postcount=6984), and worst of all, folk music! The Strangers' Bar had descended into utter chaos -- and the oddest thing about it, there weren't even any Kennyites around! The realization may have made some sigh with relief, but that relief wouldn't last long.

As fortune would have it, three young Kennyites had presently cast themselves into the maelstrom, as they approached the counter, talking, joking, laughing, and unforgivably sober. One of them was wearing a soccer uniform.

"We should get some drinks to celebrate your victory!" said another member of the jubilant trio.

"Dude, what victory? The Yeldan Foreign Ministry creamed us, 4-1!" the stocky Latino athlete reminded him.

"That's one more goal than you usually get," noted his redheaded companion. "You totally beat the spread!"

"I don't think they have spreads in soccer," said the darkest-skinned, and most responsible-looking of their number. "And besides, they would have scored two goals, had not Rico tragically mistaken that Yeldan forward's head for the ball ..."

"Eh, little punk deserved it," sniffed Rico. "Besides, dude's head was so big and round, it was an easy mistake."

"Bigger and rounder now, thanks to you ..."

"Yeah, now he kinda looks like you, Sammy," Rico said evilly.

"Her-her-her," Sammy mocked him.

"Shut up, Bighead," snapped Rico. "This is all your fault, anyway."

"My fault?!"

"Yeah, you're the one who conned me into playing for the State Department in the first place, retard. I mean, it's bad enough you're marrying a hardened criminal (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=13363104&postcount=36), now you're signing me up to be humiliated in UN soccer games?"

"You want humiliation?" Sammy challenged him. "I'll throw you down on this floor right now, and mop it with your fuckin' face!"

"Bring it, bitch!" consented Rico, advancing on the ambassador. (As previously noted, these guys weren't even drunk yet.)

Alas, Sammy wouldn't have a chance to bring said "it," as Ace threw himself between them, pushing them apart. "Whoa, guys! Calm down! Sammy, you get us some drinks, while Rico and I canvass the bar patrons for some other ... er ... narcotics."

"That sounds more like it," Rico agreed. "See you in a few, dumbass ..."

Thus Sammy was left alone to his devices, happy for the brief respite from UN intramural politics. He hugged the counter, eager for refreshments. "Three Arrogant Bastard Ales," he called to Neville, "and the whereabouts of William Kelly of ArdchoilleaNS, if you know them."

His cell phone rang. "Hello?" he answered.

"Sammy!" cried the elderly voice on the other end of the line. "I just caught a glimpse of your fiancée speaking during a debate on GnomeVision! Oh, she's lovely! And she looks like such a nice girl!"

"Glad you approve, Grandma," Sammy laughed nervously.

"Is it true what they say about her? That she's serving a probationary sentence for magical crimes and misdemeanors?"

"Er, she was wrongfully convicted!" the boy answered her. "Ask her yourself; she'll go on about it for hours!"

The two Neo Kirisubans now got the chance to see the chaos of the strangers bar and gritted their teeth.

It was impossible to ignore the Kennyites and a demon coming through the floor but the Neo Kirisubans had seen many strange things on their space travels. Very little surprised them now.

So they headed to the bar looking for a drink and trying not to appear distracted. They found a place at the bar and their visitors passes marked them out as strangers for now.

"Aha! Kirisubans! Welcome back!" shouted Neville jovially, carefully pouring the well-remembered tipple. "I'd say this was on the house, to celebrate your return, but The Raven Lord delegate got in first. So the next one's free, as well."

Smiling still, he turned back to Sammy. "Kelly? I thought you knew him already -- he's not backward in coming forward. Hey, Bill!" he called. "Bill! Over here! Wancha to meet a mate of mine. Sammy Faisano, Bill Kelly. His close friends call him Ned, but I wouldn't, just yet, if I were you," he added, sotto voce, to Sammy.

The ArdchoilleaNS founder walked with extreme care over to the BarLord, a cautious grimace on his oddly youthful face; not quite a smile, more a suspension of hostilities. The white dandelion-puff of hair and the cautious movements suggested age, but the adolescent surliness of his response belied that impression.

"Sammy, eh?" he said. Yeah, Sammy -- bloody typical, he thought. Why is it these rich-kid types never have grown-up names? Guess he'll be "Sammy" till the day he dies. "So, whose side are you on, Sammy, old son?"

"He's the Kennyite Ambassador to Ardchoille," Neville cut in helpfully. "Bill, here, is the founder of the Ardchoille Normal Society," he added. "Thought it might be a good thing if you two met."

"Interfering again, are you?" growled Kelly. "Since when is a bloody barman a bloody diplomat?" But he seemed to unbend ever so slightly, and his next observation might have been marginally less hostile.

"Neville's got it wrong, of course," he told Sammy. "Serve him right for being so matey with our President -- she always gets the bull by the tit. It's Ardchoilleans, Normal Status. Because we're Ardchoilleans too, and we should have normal status, but we don't. Despite the fact that we're the ones who're normal human beings. Where d'you stand on that, laddie?"

One delegate to the other, "hacked the computer system? Wow, I thought you just said you plugged the PA speakers into our CD players?"

"I never touched no computer system, just the speaker wires, maybe that's why they're in such a huff and a puff?"

"Well they did say they purged the computer system and our songs still played, seems like there's a computer hacker out there cause we just did the speaker wires. So maybe there's just some misunderstanding. Too bad no one is in the mood to talk in these halls, oh well."

"So what do we do with the latest chest thumping from the others?"

"Let them thump, we use speech to express ourselves and if they cross the line, then we shall as well. Remember, do not start a fight but do not back down from one. Someone has the right to throw us out of windows, we have the right to play our noise in retaliation. Other than that, we stay in speech mode."

"But they seem to be provoking us to do more."

"That's because they are angry that we dare to fight back using their own rules and win. Bullies exist in many forms, and we threaten them by standing up to them and by refusing to be intimidated by them. They push, we push back. End of story."

"Will they throw us out of windows again?"

"Possibly, but if they do we'll find a comparable activity to respond with. Maybe the sprinkler system? Again, we do not start, but once it starts we do not back down."

The delegates continued drinking their beverages in the corner while some others seemed to be glaring at them from other parts of the bar. Will the delegates be asked to leave the bar by the management for quietly drinking in the corner? Time will tell.

Ambassador Yamamoto smiled and introduced herself.

"Hello. I'm Ambassador Sakura Yamamoto from the Kirisuban Federation. My colleague is Lt Commander Hoshiko Sato of the Neo Kirisuban Starfleet.

Its a long story why we're in the same time frame as our Earth bound associates but our Starship is somewhere up there. Hopefully we'll be here more often once our UN membership comes through offically."

Seeing they were being introduced she smiled again and gently added "Faisano san, Kelly san. Its good to meet you."

Turning back to Neville she seen he had poured them two cups of sake. Already she could see he was a man who knew her peoples drinking habits well.

The first Bruce was still waiting at the bar. It seemed the Bar staff were busy that didn't seem to phase him at all, he just continued waiting, whistling a cheery little tune.

The other Bruces and one Sheila where sitting down at a table...
"Is that a wolf Bruce?!"

"Looks like one Bruce."

"Well, good then.... and Bruce?"

"Yes, Bruce?"

"Is that a Vampire, Bruce."

"Could be, never seen one up close before though Bruce."

"What's a Vampire made up of Bruce?"

"Well Bruce, first you've got the Fangs, usually dripping with blood but I don't know why they don't just go and brush their teeth. Uusually dressed in those like long black robes you know like those poncy catholic priests. Oh,, and have a widows peak too."

"Bruce, your mum, lovely lady had a widows peak does that mean she's a Vamp?"

"Nah, don't be Silly Bruce. That would I would be one, do I look like a Vamp to you Bruce?"

"Nah, Bruce."

"Well, Bruce."

"Yes, Bruce?"

"That's a Vampire, Bruce."

"Are you sure Bruce?"

"Yep, I'm sure Bruce... and Bruce what about that too?"

"You mean that red devil, demon looking thing, Bruce?"

"Yeah, Bruce. I think it's a Demon Bruce."

"I think your right, Bruce."

"Um, Bruce...."

"I'm right with you Bruce."

The two mean and the woman joined screaming together at the Wolf, the Vampire and the Demon in the room.

Violet was at their side in a minute, patting and hugging indiscriminately, but nothing seemed to soothe the distraught newcomers.

"Dazza! DAAAZZZZ-AAAA!" she yelled desperately.

The Australian-fusion-cuisine chef of the Strangers' Bar dining room dashed out, mad as a cut snake. "Wassup, Vi ... aww, bloody hell!"

Expertly he hoicked a slab of VB over the bar -- he didn't think the ol' Nev'd bung on a demarcation row -- and began chucking the tinnies where they'd do most good.

The trick seemed to work: as the precious coldies flew past, a Bruce or a Shiela would reach a hand out automatically, pop a top and inhale the amber fluid. The break in the hysteria gave Jimmy and Violet just long enough to shove an exotic hotpiewift'mahtasauce in the patient's other hand, and soon the noise had been cut to the standard dull roar (though there was one whinger who kept on moaning for a rossige soul. There's always one).

"Right, youse," said Dazza, eyeing them the way Bluey the cattle-dog eyed daggy sheep. "Get y'r arses in gear. This is a Pub! Y'don't carry on like that in The Pub. Wassa matta you, gotta no respeck? These vampires ya yellin' at, doncha know they're fair buggers at pyjama cricket? An' wolves're just sorta smart dingoes with mullets, and there's not a demon born who could take on Germaine Greer, so don't get yer knickers in a knot. Whyn't a coupla yez c'mon out the back, y'c'n check out me new barbie. I caught this massive mullaway yesty, shoved it in hoi sin, bitta ginger ..."

Babbling his culinary secrets, Dazza moved gently among the now-receptive crowd*, quietly exchanging the occasional "Bruce, y'ol'bastard!" and "Onya, Shezza, mate!" as he soothed the more restive individuals.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it," said Violet, reverently. "He's a Shielas-and-Bruces whisperer!"

* Four Bruces and Shielas, three of 'em drunk, is so a crowd.

Sir Albert had never come across a bunch of whatdoyoucallem...erm "Atipoddd...atipodean...antipogues",...bugger it he thought, "ozzies...that's them".

He watched in a drunkenly swaying haze of admiration at how all the blokes called each other "booze", all the birds had the same name (a stroke of genius he thought, imagine the trouble that could solve) and how they were so fond of wine that they wore their favourite wine corks dangling from their hats as a handy reminder as to what to order, especially useful for those mumbling glazed over but need a top up at the bar moments.

If only he could remember the greeting he'd learnt at diplomat college..."ere lads...ermmm bongo mates", he slurred, raising his glass and motioning to what he thought was Neville to get the Australians a drink in.

Neville meanwhile was still wandering why Sir Albert was regularly waving his pint at the hat stand.....

"Domo Neville" Sakura replied as both ladies sat at the bar drinking their sake and the ambassador smiling when she recognised the taste of proper sake.

This place might not be so bad after all although it wasn't hard to notice the general air of drunkenness especially the gentleman waving his pint at a hat stand.

The Australian fusion chef was also a very intreresting character as these ladies continued to remain composed and relaxed while a lot went on round them.

Just then alan flew back into the bar and collapsed into a heap....Man i must be getting old...I can't even fly after my own bloomin kid any more......I need a bloody drink...and he began to walk towards the bar...

The lone not-drunk Bruce replied to Sir Albert, "Cheers, mate." while he watched Dazza at work, he could only smile.

The 2 Bruces and the single Sheila sitting down drinking their beer or eating thier meat pie, rasuage soll, I meant Sausage roll.

"Right, nothing to fear then, We've faced Germane Greer we can face anything. Right, Bruce?"

"She gives Sheilas everywhere a rotten name that Greer." Sheila pipped up

"Right you are Bruce, and you too Sheila!"

Meanwhile the other Bruce, the one who wasn't apart of all the commotion, came up and patted Dazza on the back. "Thank's there mate. Couldn't done withou ch'ya. I'm Bruce, and you've already met, Bruce, Bruce and Sheila. I'll take it from here."

He slid into the middle and tore his colleages, in the local venacular 'a new arse',"And what you lot have to say for yourselves, you know better than to make a scene like in a pub. What if the bartender kicked you out eh? no more beer how does that strike ya? You got that through the thick plate that you call a skull?" they nodded "Alright now apologise to the sheila and Dazza here for making a scene in their pub."

They looked up. "Sorry, mate." ,"Sorry to cause a scene." "Sorry, thanks for beer though."

One them piped up again...

"Did you say sumthin' 'bout a barbie?"

Hoshiko remembered the briefing they received before they left the ship and the information they picked up from the historical database.

These people would have been from the people collectively known as 'Aussies' and they were mostly harmless as well as looking like a lot of fun to be with.

So while the lady Ambassador drank at the bar her comm badge chirped. The comms officer told her that the UN had approved their membership and she passed this message onto her colleague.

Now she was free to talk to the Bruces and Shelia's so knocking back her sake she walked over to them. The uniform flattered her figure and the small woman with long dark hair strolled over to the people who looked like being a lot of fun.

"Hello" she said to the Sheila in accented but clear English. She was more used to dealing with other women rather than men although.

" He then slides it over to Sadrin and turns to look at the ambassador from The Palentine, "Fool, do you really think those petty tools can actually kill vampires?"

Sen Sulla looks amused at the outbust and says,
"I never claimed that these will kill vampires, only that they were wards. Let the buyer beware. If they don't work after being bought, its no longer my problem."

Just then alan flew back into the bar and collapsed into a heap....Man i must be getting old...I can't even fly after my own bloomin kid any more......I need a bloody drink...and he began to walk towards the bar...

ooc: Just a small request. Please use something to distinguish spoken text from narration. You're giving me and I expect a few others a headche. For the SB I use a book style. The standard rp style however is to use normal text as spoken and *...* for action. Thanks.

ic:
Jawey continued to stand by the bar, slowly smoking through his cigarette case with shaking hands, seemingly oblivious to the commotion. After a while he turned his head and spoke slowly and deliberately to Violet. "A medium rare springbok steak please, with whatever vegetables your chef chooses. And another glass of red wine. I will sit..." He broke off. Concentrated a moment then pointed at a table by the fireplace with his cigarette. "There."

The kimono wearing Sakura seen and heard the man with shaking hands enter the bar.

He also wasn't far away from her but wasn't hungry since she had eaten on the starship earlier on. A 'pioneer' class ship which would now be officially redesignated an 'ambassador' class vessel and modified by the Starfleet crew appropriately.

The other 59 women who crewed the ship would therefore be popping down here from time to time as well.

She turned to the new arrival ordering his dinner and giving him a soft gentle smile softly said to him in the slightly accented English "hello. Is anything wrong?"