NationStates Jolt Archive

Seeing as this is a place to do some backroom dealing, I would be very interested in hiring some mercenaries to help me attain the position of UN representative for my region (1000 Islands). The region is fairly sizeable and will be an interesting posts, as all members are active participants in NS. In return for the rogue nations' support, I am willing to change the group's UN voting conventions into an oligarchy. My supporters and I will make all necessary decisions on the UN without input from other members.

My dear fellow heads of state, this is an opportunity to attain a position of prestige! I sincerely hope it will not pass you by. Interested nations should apply to wazzaboy@hotmail.com or a direct telegram.

Sincerely,
MCC
President, Incorporated States of Extortionville

Greetings all~!
Having just joined, it seems fitting that the first place I encounter should be the “Pub”~!
Many wonderful and useful ideas here~!
Perhaps one way to decide when a bill is up for voting is to make a life-sized cribbage board with lobbyists for pegs. These lobbyists would be caring these bills for pegs, and -

//Oh look~! My wine has arrived. Pardon me. Pray, continue…

*Grenz0 Lord of Evil Omni-divintivists wonders if he should strike up a conversation with walther about "the emperor", seing as their own historical references depict him as a heroic individual, mortally wounded and kept alive on what is essencially a machine that turns soylent products into life force for 10000 years, and is now just a bloated corpse covered in tubes connected to his own throne. But then he thought he would just have another drink and play pool, and remembering that his superior reflexes would get him out of any situation that walther put him in if infact he could tell what he was thinking*

"Barkeep another beer please, and any one up for a game of pool? Loser buy's next round."

Hello....I was wandering around and walked into this establishment. :) May I have a screwdriver and tell me what's up at the moment?

The venerable Sir Albert stirs to life to open his handy toolcase and toss a screwdriver over to the delegate from Zips.

"Bye Eck, wot's all this abowt backroom dealing n' proposal support, this ere establishment's a bar lads n' lasses, tha drinks ere, tha buggers off out t'debating hall if tha wants owt else".

With those words of Northern wisdom he belches, downs a quick Bahgumian pint (officially defined as the volume of a coal scuttle) and drops off to sleep again.............

*wanders in* Hello all! I am President PIcaRDMPC of the United Socialist States of PIcaRDMPCia! It is a great honor to be accepted within the United Nations. Anyone who wishes to visit our fine nation is more than welcome. Peace and freedom to all! *walks over to bar and gets root beer*

Root beer?

"Pardon my intrusion, sir...but I do not believe they carry that particular...beverage here. Allow me - Barkeep~!!
A carafe of your '76 Jordan Cabernet for my good friend President PIcaRDMPC please. And do place it on my tab~!"

this is a real bar, not a soda bar, even if your under age, hell your the leader of a nation, you better be able to drink. *downs whats left of a bottle of elisyum wine*

Suseck sips beer and surveys the action going around around her. "Certainly very boring at this point in time." Suseck takes out a deck of cards and begins to deal a hand of blackjack.

hey i'm a new comer state and likin what i see. still a bit confused about some aspects of this 'game'. If someone could telegram me and help me out a bit that would be great
quinntopia

Good evening, old fellows-
I happen to be new to the establishment and area, and would perhaps enjoy the company of some find friends who know their way around. Telegram the old boy, if necessary. Certainly your help would be appreciated. Much thanks,
the Swales.
Post Script: Is there a sean from Canada in G-F physics here?

By Eck lads n lasses!

The Glorious nation of Bahgum has jsut achieved the accolade of 'All Consuming' against our economic performance. Pints all round, lets do some consuming.............

Pointedly serving a root beer to the delegate with the shift-key problem -- "We aim to please, sir!" -- Neville cast a practised eye round the bar.

Warm in his pocket sat the note from Hodgelett. Not that sort of note, Neville had discovered with some regret; no retiring to the private rooms above for a lively discussion of, say, the role of poets in The Republic. However, since it was the other sort of note, there would be some retiring, with accountants, to the private rooms at Threadneedle's Bank, and a lively discussion of the aesthetics of all those cute little anti-forgery curlicues and the bountiful feminine roundness of its figures, contrasted with the stark masculinity of the line that said, "Legal tender in the Queendom of Randomea" ... ahh, culture ...

"Ars longa, vita brevis!" flashed the Barlord suddenly. "And brevis is what your vita will be, mate, if you try any of that there here!" The Swizzle-stick of Doom pressed persuasively against a loathesome throat; the buzz-saw whine of the Coaster of C'thulu rose in pitch as it measured up a pair of disgustingly stained hands.

There was no need for the Bar-towel of Belphet. The would-be drink spiker scuttled desperately past a dark corner where Bast, the giant Ardchoille cat, extended a lazy paw ...

Cleaning his claws a short time later, the feline philosopher strolled up to the bar.

"Spiking Dicey's drink might make a certain kind of sense to a certain kind of proto-human," Bast observed, glancing at the buxom Co-President of Ardchoille. "But why, in the name of all that's wonderful, would anyone spike Sir Albert's?"

And all alone in my region, but why the hell not?

What's on the table at the moment that needs votes? And how the hell do get to wherever the voting is done?

"-Chutulu? Is that not the name of an Deamon? By the throne!"

Walther spoke into the vox of his holy armour "-I need an inquisitorial investigation team here on the double, there is a possible warp-taint on my location."

After closing the connection Walther puts his helmet back on. The dull lighting in the room casts an eeire shadow over the slits that make out the viewports of the helmet and the battledamage of the suit of armour makes Walther look even more menacing as the dull gleam of damaged metal shines throu the paint.

Walthers rebreathing system hisses as his helm is fitted and the servos of his holy armour is making their usual noises every time Walther moves. A slight hum is heard from the backpack of the armour.

Walther moves away to stand in a corner of the bar. He stands there and it looks like he had stood there for a thousand years, the only thing revealing that the massive figure is alive is the rythmic sound of the rebreather system.

Hearing that Ardchoille chappie....By Eck, ah'll 'ave tha guts fer garters if anybugger's spiked mi drink wi' anything less than 30 percent proof. Sir Albert looks to all in the bar questioningly, while quietly calling over a couple of particularly formidable looking Bahgumian mothers in law to his side, the kind that look like they haven't interfered in anybodies elses life for at least a week...........

Hastily, Bast does his best to placate the formidable Northerner.

"Of course, what I meant to say was, why would anyone dare spike Sir Albert's," he amends. Those mother-in-laws are making him nervous. They carry about them a sort of aura of brooms, of shrill cries of "Geddahdvit, shoo, y'nasty animal!" and sensible shoes aiming for sensitive tails.

The discussion spirals down into practical comparisons of ethnic tipples while, elsewhere, Neville babbles urgently at the immobile but sinisterly hissing Walther.

" ... totally meaningless, just a coincidental concatention of consonants, my use of the word C'thulu," he insists. "I had no intention of referring to anything, honestly, it just popped out, I've never even heard of the Elder Gods ..."

a good pint of beer, please barman.

Walther watched Neville as he tried to explain himself. Patiently Walther listened to what the barlord had to say until Neville made the mistake of mentioning the elder gods. An armoured hand suddenly enclosed Neville’s throat and the arm the hand was attached to lifted Neville some meter off the ground.

The ground trembled, the lights dimmed and Walthers armour was once again covered in glowing runes and glyphs.

“-Heresy!” Walther spat through the voxcaster in his helmet, his voice slightly distorted. “-There is but only one God, and that is the God-Emperor himself!” Walther continued.

Neville grabbed the giant glove tightening around his neck and whimpered “-But good sir, I’ve had this bar for years, you hear a lot of thing from the customers…” Neville’s voice trailed off as Walthers grip became tighter.

“-Then how dare you speak such heresy in the face of a servant of the Emperor?” Blue lightning now played along Walthers helmet, emanating from the view ports of his helmet. Here and there in the bar light bulbs exploded of Walthers rage and a few bottles fell of the bar.

Suddenly the doors to the bar burst open and a man carrying a rune covered staff entered, followed by two hooded figures and five armed soldiers clad in much the same armour Walther had the first time he visited the bar. The group moved swiftly over to Walther and Neville and the man spoke; “-Walther, release the man, I will now investigate if he is tainted by the warp or if he speaks the truth.”

Walther turned his head over to the man and asked, “-Did you hear our conversation Inquisitor?”

The man replied “The inquisition has it’s eyes and ears everywhere Lord Brandl, I though you knew that. Besides, you are not famed for your subtlety.”

Walther put Neville down and two of the troopers took him out of the bar and the man continued; “I will question this man right away, my cutter is standing by a short distance from here. I will leave one of my savants here to investigate if any of the occupants of this establishment is tainted too. I don’t believe that you need any of my troops.”

The runes on Walthers armour faded and the lightning died away. “-Very well Inquisitor, I expect you to be back here with an answer within two hours.”

“-As you wish Grandmaster.” The Inquisitor said and nodded his head to Walther.

“-Emperor protects, Inquisitor” Walther replied.

The inquisitor left, leaving one of the hooded figures behind with Walther.

The hooded figure removed his cloak, revealing a frail old man dressed in dark red robes lined with gold. Around his neck hung a pendant in the shape of the letter “I” with three horizontal bars. The mans left eye was replaced with a bionic eye and one could see that the mans entire body was covered with bionics to hold him up. A few hoses was coupled to a plate fastened with bolts in the mans neck and a pale red fluid flowed through the hoses, apparently some kind of life support system. The man looked incredibly old, and the augmenting bionics that covered him also suggested that this was the case.

“-I will continue the investigation now.” The voice of the man was metallic and cold, and he did not move his mouth as he spoke.

The man moved away from Walther and started looking at things, touching others.

Walther looked at the man for a few moments, then he removed his helmet and spoke; “-I am terribly sorry for any inconvenience this might bring you, but just relax and this will be over shortly.”

Hodgelett sidled alongside Walter. "Er, that was a little extreme wasn't it? And you've left the bar without a tender, we're going to have a riot."
Catches sight of an inebriated gentlemen swing his arm at someone in the way of his determined stagger towards more alcohol. "Oh no, it's started already. Guess we'd better get this place back under control," she said as she sat on the bar and swung her legs over before dropping neatly on the other side, "It's been a while since I was a 'bar biznatch' but I guess I'll give it a go again. In the meantime you can find the usual temp. and get Neville back as soon as you can" she paused and looked him in the eye "without too much inconvenience to him if you understand me?"

President Carpenter walked back into the UN Stranger's Bar after a long day of work. He stepped over to the bar, sat on an empty stool, and ordered a drink. He placed his hand on his face in a tired fashion and sighed.
"What seems to be the problem, Mr. President?" the barkeep asked while polishing a glass.
President Carpenter shook his head. "Oh, nothing, if you don't count the fact that in two days my entire region of Galbadia is going to be plunged into a war over the UN Delegacy."
The barkeep cocked an eyebrow. "Why is this occurring, pray tell?"
President Carpenter looked up at him while nursing his drink. "A dictatorship, Xanadune, is leading a group of dictatorships against my country and my allies because they fear our economy style. They believe the fact that we no longer have money thanks to progressive policies in socialism represent a government that lies to its people. And this from a Psychotic Dictatorship!" He shook his head again. "It's idiotic, especially so because of the waste of life."
The barkeep nodded. "Well, hopefully, you'll be able to end the conflict with a minimal loss of life." With that, the barkeep left Carpenter alone to nurse his drink.

"oh my miss i say is that plant bothering you?" if that plant is going for another round i'll not have it...seeing an empty seat at the bar i stagger towards it noticing that blasted plant has it's tentacle wrapped around my ankle, "bugger off you, and no i'm not buying you another and will you please release that waitress"!

The Inquisitor entered the bar again with Neville the barlord by his side. Neville took his place behind the bar and the Inquisitor approched Walther.

"-Lord Brandl, Neville is not tainted by the warp, but he do posess a great knowledge about it and it's inhabitants. Neville could be a great asset if he was to service the Emperor." the Inquisitor said.

Walther looked at Neville, then at the Inquisitor and then he spoke; "It seems that I have an apology to make then Inquisitor."

Walther went over to the bar where Neville was organizing the bottles that had toppled over and extended his hand towards Neville.

"-I am terribly sorry for any inconvinience I might have caused you Neville. I will post a small team of guards here as well as a small Inquisitorial contingence in order to keep the peace."

Neville watched the armoured man and said something about that he should not do it again, but he is forgiven for this time. Then Neville continued to do his work behind the bar and poured Walther and the Inquisitor a lager each.

"-Well folks, it seems that the drinks are on me this time." Walther adressed everyone in the bar and raised his glass.

From behind the bar Neville proclaimed "-Emperor protects!" with a glass of his own raised.

Walther and the Inquisitor echoed Neville "-Emperor protects!"

I should like to challenge anyone who believes that they can defeat me in a game of Chess. :) Perhaps we can discuss the recent discoveries of cloning posibiliteis in the world. Waitress please bring me a glass of your finest Chateau.

" 'fraid not. I've been relieved." Hodgelett said as she relinquished the bar to Neville. "I hope I didn't mess up too badly, though there appears to be a guy on hallucigens. Oh and President Carpenter seems adequately oblivious, he never noticed the change. However, I still think certain members need to learn a little curteosy." She gave Walther a pointed look. It hadn't passed her by that he had totally ignored everything she had said.

The Penguitalian Ambassador to the United Nations sauntered into the bar, paused briefly inside the entrance and then strolled up to an empty table and sat down, savouring the heady smell of fine beverages, good food and a not-insignificant amount of cigar smoke.

Ambassador Ozzel (for that was his name) politely signalled to a waiter and ordered a mixed grill with a pint of the bar's best bitter, and settled back into his preperatory material for the afternoon's speech. Ozzel was hoping to place a proposal to reduce barriers to free trade before the regional delegates, and wanted to be on top form. Hence the pint.

"Ahhhh" he sighed happily, opening back the first page of his notes. "Global Free Trade Act, just the thing for a Tuesday lunchtime..." and lent back in his chair to read.

Suseck picks up her beer and walks over to the table where Ambassador Ozzel is sitting. "Why hello. Mind if I join you?" While waiting Suseck takes a sip of her beer. "Finest kind, finest kind..."

With his usual competence, Neville again gathered the disparate strings of the bar's existence into his talented hands.

That wasn't all he was going to gather, if Walther's lot set up a permanent outpost here. For a moment his mind ran happily over possible taxes, service charges, rental, legal expenses, etc. Plus the chance of extorting free security from Walther on the basis of pain and suffering caused by the rather too physical nature of their discussion. All this, just for a momentary inconvenience! Wasn't commerce wonderful!

Hodgelett's instant and masterful grasp of the situation meant that Neville really had very little to do. Perhaps he should introduce Dicey to the slightly befuddled delegate from Mdn -- after all, if she hadn't been spreading free drinks around the guy would never have got that usually quite shy plant drunk. Obviously, she should be the one to look after him now. But, on the whole, Neville had a few minutes to himself.

Let's see, now: should he praise the delegate from Randomea in a villanelle? Or would a sonnet be more appropriate?

Ozzel carefully folded his notes and papers, placed them back in his attaché case and shut it with a snap, then rose and pulled out a chair for Suseck.

"No ma'am, certainly you're welcome to join me- I'm affraid I'm somewhat caught up in myself at the moment but it's always a pleasure to have company at lunch..."

Smiling warmly, he sits again and clears some space at the table. "So, from where do you hail from?"

Walther approched Mrs. Hodgelett, his armour whirring and clicking with his movements.

"-I did not ignore you Miss, but courtesy is a thing I cannot affoard in the battle against the forces of Chaos."

Outside the bar a huge explosion was heard and it rattled the entire bar. Two more was heard and all three of them made dust fall from the roof's supporting beams.

Walther went over to the bar's door and looked outside.

"-Ah, excellent, right on time." Walther turned and faced the occupants of the bar again "-There's no need for alarm, that was only the prefabricated base dropped in from orbit by my battlebarge, the servitors will have it up and running in no time. There will be some thunderhawk activity, but it's only momentary."

hello everyone im a new UN member. I am from the " hells gate" region . I am here to offer a olive branch to any "Trustworthy" Regions.

Suseck smiles at Ambassador Ozzel and sits in the chair he has pulled out for her. "Why thank you. I come from the nation of Suseck, which can be found in the Worst Region." Grinning, "Despite the name, we're doing very well. How are things in your part of the world?"

Lights a spliffy

Ozzel smiles, and takes a long sip of his beer before replying.

"Yes, things are going well. I'm the delegate for a new region- the Emperor's Hammer Territories- lands that still hold dear the ways of our last Emperor and continue the fight for law and order despite his death. We number at about fifty-odd at the minute.

Currently we're working to get a free-trade act passed to encourage free and fair competition between all nations. It's uphill work though- liberals take it as a conservative attack on their business while conservatives suspect it's a neoliberal plan to spread communism- whereas in fact it will benefit all nations equally and the poorer states in particular."

Ozzel sighs deeply, and then brightens somewhat as he looks up and back at his companion.

"Anyway, enough shop talk- tell me, what's that you're drinking?"

Walther stood by the bar and overheard the words that delegate Ozzel spoke.

lands that still hold dear the ways of our last Emperor and continue the fight for law and order despite his death.

"-The Emperor?" Walther thought to himself. "-Can he possibly mean the God-Emperor himself, he who sits upon his golden throne and to whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die?"

Walther ponders as he takes another sip of his lager.

"-Emperor protects." he mumbles to himself.

"Well Ambassador Ozzel, it's a special brew, native to my region. My region is known for its beer and chicken wings. Would you like to try one? I always keep extras when I've been recruiting. And I've just come back from it. It's a hard and tiring job..."

Suseck offers a beer to Ambassador Ozzel.

Phineas Flogg, Formal God Almighty of the Free Land of Overt Flatulence, and recently named delegate to the United Nations after his nation's acceptance to the U.N. saunters up to the conversation.....

"Swally? We ur talkin' abit brews haur? 'At is feckin' braw! We Overt Flatulencians ur warld feckin' reknowned fur uir braw tastes in swally! Ye shoods try uir national brew, Radge Skunk Piss. It's quite wonderful an' yoo'll ne'er guess hoo we inject th' carbonation intae it!"

Brother Timothy rated his abilities as a spiritual director somewhat below his abilities as a netball coach, and he'd never even seen an actual netball. Nonetheless, he could recognise a crisis of faith when he saw one.

He doubted he could help Walther, though. Walther plainly belonged to one of those scary ice-region religions that was big on obedience, renunciation, self-denial and abstinence. The United Nations certainly provided plenty of scope for that ... perhaps what Walther need was to get away from the UN. Go find himself. Go on ... a quest!

"What you need," he informed Walther, buying him a lager to soften the blow,"is a trusty sidekick. Preferably one with a dry sense of humour."

"Minstrels are good for that," suggested Neville, overhearing.

"A surly ex-mercenary with an eye for the opposite sex is always useful," someone else chimed in.

"Or an apprentice. Or a thief. Or an apprentice thief," added another.

"I'm told you should always take an incompetent boy wizard or a girl who dresses as a boy and doesn't know she's a witch," offered a third.

"Talking animals are a standard item," said Bast, looking haughty when everybody laughed.

"A dragon," sighed a romantic. "A grumpy Dwarf-lord," said a voice from knee-height.

"Elves!!!" sang a wistful chorus.

Whoever would have thought you'd find so many fantasy devotees propping up a bar at the UN?

"Ambassador Flogg, I thank you, but I've developed a very refined taste. The only beer I truly like, is the one that my region manufactures. Good for the economy you know?"

Suseck gestures to a chair, inviting Flogg to join her and Ambassador Ozzel, providing that Ambassador Ozzel does not mind.

Ozzel smiles warmly as Suseck and then replies. "No certainly, that'll be fine- and while you're at it I'd be more than willing to sample your national beer. Regret to say we won't be importing any to Penguitalia though I'm affraid- our trade deficit is huge and becoming more so with every day... don't suppose you'd be interested in buying 10 million stuffed ewoks would you? Or perhaps some "We Love Palpatine" t-shirts?" Ozzel inquired, grinning mischeiviously.

"Somehow we just can't shift them..."

Suseck hands a beer to Ambassador Ozzel. "Drink away, my fine man. I'm sorry to say that the ewoks wouldn't go over well in my region. On a whole, we have a strong dislike for furry animals. Quite odd, if you ask me, but," Suseck shrugs, "Who knows? I personally don't mind them a bit." Suseck smiles at Ozzel. "So Flogg, how goes things in your part of the world?"

finally free of the phychotic plant that seems to be doing better thatn myself, i make it to the bar at last....straightening myself up adjusting my tie and the rest of my suit, i take a seat at the bar.."ahem barkeep my i have one gin and tonic, ah better make that a double".....

Lydia entered the bar rather tired and annoyed. Her time taking part in debates seemed to becoming less and less, whereas her workload was constantly on the increase. To make matters worse her recent request to increase her staff at the UN had been declined for budgetary reasons. Lydia felt representing her nation in debates was one of her main priorities, but recently she was constantly flying back home for meetings.

“I’m really must make some time to talk to Dirk about this” she thought quietly to herself. Still it wasn’t all that bad, popping in to the bar to see a few familiar faces and new friendly ones was bound to put her in better spirits. Walking over to the bar Lydia looked out for her friend and spotted Neville serving a drink to a member she didn’t recognise.

“Have you seen Jerry, Neville” she enquired politely.

“Ah, Ms Cornwall, good to see you back, it’s been a while. He’s definitely around, would you like a drink in the meantime?” replied the barman cordially.

“Yes please, something new perhaps? I know how you and Jerry love to import your little, what shall we call them, specialities” looking at the barman with a little glint in her eye. Looking round the bar Neville grab a bottle located on a high shelf at the back of the bar and poured Lydia a glass.

What appeared immediately started to alarm Lydia and she wondered why she even asked about these ‘specialities’, though her curiosity always seemed to get the better of her.

“It’s called Nr’ypiol, it’s from home actually. Your home that is” stated Neville having noted her suspicion to the beverage.

“Is, it? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that, are you sure about that Neville?”

“Ma’am, trust me. I promise the minute you have a sip you will feel right at home”

Lydia picked up the glass, took a sip and then immediately a gulp. She could not deny that Neville certainly new his beverages, because the very minute she took a sip it reminded her of home. Her mind began to fill with memories and slowly the cares of the day started to slip away leaving her in blissful tranquillity.

my eyes hurt 4 sum reason i think its coz of all the writing
ne way im in skool now an can sum 1 do my hkw 4 me? :) Its a story about homeless people ah doesnt matter 4 get the whole thing i just wanted to say a few words ok
as of now i............. wot the?...... :mp5: noooooooooooo help................................ :sniper:

By eck, ah see tha's sum o'them there fancy nations ere, them as don't send tha's kids down t'pit fer t'coal, but t'school instead.....tha'll ne'er learn to appreciate life if tha's soft on t'little blighters....

Hey, any nations that would like to endorse The Empire Nationalist Republics as a UN Deligate of the Slavnovakovski region, I would really appreceiate it. I'm located in the Slavnovakovski region. And Nationalist Republics is the founder of the area, if anyone wants to join my area please do, Slavnovakovski is a very diverse area we have Nationalists, Monarchys, and Communists as well.

Walks in and orders a beer.


"Well another law passed, eh everyone?"

General Marcos Metallo strolled into the Strangers' Bar with his usual brisk, military stride. The bartender spoke a greeting, to which he gave a curt nod in return. He slowly gazed around the room, taking in the brilliant sights and smells. His eyes stopped on a gentleman wearing the uniform of an Imperial Admiral, sitting with another ambassador across the room. He walked over to their table and gave a short bow to the Penguitalian Ambassador.

"Ambassador Ozzel? I am General Marcos Metallo, Ambassador from the Protectorate of Mikale, from the Emperor's Hammer Territories. I was hoping to find you here, and to introduce myself. I understand you are my Regional Delegate."

Suseck watched as a newcomer came into the bar and walked over to their table. She stands up and introduces herself to the new delegate. "Hello. My name is Suseck. I come from The Worst Region. You have a fine regional delegate here." Suseck gestures to Ambassador Ozzel and grins.

Ozzel grins, and stands up to greet General Metallo. "Ahh yes General, I believe Vice Admiral Astix sent me a message about your arrival this morning. Welcome to the UN- and welcome to this bar. It's my first time in here too, but I'm being made to feel pretty welcome I must admit." -With this Ozzel smiles at Suseck and sits back down, motioning to the waiter again as his meal arrives.

"You'll excuse me while I tuck in... I'm famished. Grab yourself some munch and have a drink- it's better than good ol' fashioned field rations that's for sure. Well, not that I'd know... my brother was always more the military man, I do so prefer the diplomatic approach..."

Hullo !,

Im slightly lost in here - its my first time but I wondered if anyone knew how to go about how to go about joining some organisations relating to the UN ? My country has just gained admission to the UN so we are keen to find out a lot more and I thought this would be a good place to unofficially find out more . . .Im also looking for some trade associations . . . .

Thanks,

Stephania (from the Principality of Romanschland).

hello i am new to the whole un so i would just like to say hi.

I beleive this is a good idea but as a new delegate and representing all of the new nations arriving every day i beleive there should be an easier way o go to this bar so that young nations may grow strong and meet others

OOC: Check out the pictures in my signature for an idéa of how Walther Brandl looks.

Walther looked down on Brother Timothy as he spoke.

Patiently Walther listened to what Timothy had to say, and then Walther spoke.

"-A Sidekick? What do you mean with that? And what are these "elves" you referred to?"

Walther then turned to the Dwarf "-Me and my battlebrothers has fought beside the Squats, they are capable, but not as capable as the Adeptus Astartes. Though the squats have superior siege battle machines, they are no match for our enemies when it is up close and personal."

Turning his attention to the man that just entered the room, Walther noticed the brisk walk of the fellow and whom he approached. He listened to their conversation for a brief moment and could feel the faint smell of Lascannon fire off the man wearing the strange uniform. The smell was a little different from the smell Walther was used to though, somehow weaker and less potent.

Walther also noticed their use of the Word "Emperor" again, and they’re mentioning something about "The Emperors Hammer" territories.

Outside of the bar a thunderhawk gunship set down, probably with the first wave of servitors and guardsmen here to complete the prefabricated listening post dropped from orbit. Walther went over to the window and confirmed that this was the case and went back to the bar again.

Pondering this "Emperors hammer territories" Walther ordered a cup of coffee and awaited Brother Timothy’s answer.

General Metallo greeted Ambassador Suseck with a short but formal bow. He exchanged polite conversation with his two counterparts, before sitting down at an adjoining table. He glanced around briefly, hoping to spot a waiter, and was finally able to track one down.

He placed his order, and turned back to his fellow ambassadors.

"Tell me, Ambassador Suseck, about your nation and the worst region. I fear I am not very knowledgeble about lands outside of the Emperor's Hammer."

“Brother Timothy? Did I hear that right?” wondered Lydia to herself. It had been a while since she last saw the fellow and wanted to catch up. Deciding to buy two pints of Findhorn’s reputable cider, Lydia started to look round the bar for the Findhordian Brother.

i would like to bring it to the attention of all that the region of homotopia is committing acts of terrorism, targetting the happy shiny coast where all we want to do is make cookies in peace.
Shun them for their unwarranted actions opf terrorism and mocking behavior
direct your hatred and anger
sincerly
me

all we wish is to bake delicious non toxic YumYums in peace, the cosntant nattering of our not so friendly neibors has cause much sliet disharmony amongst our inslaved but highly paid elven workforce. I ask you, please, support our soverienty :) :)

Ever So Delightfuly Expressed
Dan Man - Head Cookie Cutter

"Well General Metallo, our Worst Region is doing quite well, despite the name." Suseck grins. "Our main exports are chicken wings and beer, which most of our inhabitants live off of. We are a rather large region, located on the coast and a bit inland. I'm not our regional delegate, I'm off most of the time, doing other business with regions, discussing alliances and so forth. However, I am our delegate's right hand girl. We make joint decisions for the most part." Suseck sips her beer.

With your spicy chicken wings and our assortment of baked god we could create a fast food chain and seize power all over this strangly large world! ANd sell cookies Shall we Allign?!

hmmm...i'd rather have a beer

pint anyone?

It's so nice to find a place where I can take my mind off of union disputes, the faltering economy, and planning my own wedding.
I need a kamikaze. My dear bartender, will you fetch me one?
::raises brow:: You don't know how to make one?
It's easy. Equal parts of vodka, triple sec, and sweetened lime juice, but more equal with the vodka, if you'd please.
Now where was I? Yes. If only my beloved fiance gave a fun about my profession...

I am the leader of the USW aka The united states of Westwood

my beliefs are simple a human bieng can do whatever he or she likes as long as it affects nobody else which is why we got rid of drug laws ages ago if a

man wants to smoke some recreational herb in the privacy of his own home what's to stop him? is he physically hurting anybody else? but anyway ive now joined the UN so that the USW can have a bigger say on important issues

Now bartender do you have any dark rum?

Alena stepped into the bar and quickly scanned the room.

Good, she thought. Doesn't look like I'll be bombarded by any delegates trying to buy... er... persuade my vote.

As she looked around the room, she noticed a very strangely-behaving plant.

Hmmm... if I didn't know better, I'd swear that plant was drunk, she thought. Of course plants don't get drunk, but she decides to avoid that part of the room on general principles. Of course, that meant passing the guy yelling about acts of terrorism and baking cookies, but she figured a nation that just wants to bake can't be all bad. Alena briskly passes him, heading straight for the bar, hoping lack of eye contact would equal lack of interest.

Not that acts of terrorism don't generate a sense of concern, but it had been a very long day and Alena was fairly sure she'd scream if she had to make nice with any more diplomats today. Diplomacy sucks! Why her mother decided to send *her* as the nation's representative to the UN Alena just couldn't quite comprehend. She wondered if her mother didn't secretly want out of the UN. The Gods only knew that if her mother kept her here very long, Zamundaland would be asked to resign, and not very politely. Oh well.

With a sigh, Alena took a stool at the bar.

"Bartender - how about a nice single malt scotch... a really big one. Oh and by the way - what's up with that plant?"

"It's drunk," said Bast, nipping in before anyone else could answer.

Neville flashed him a look of gratitude. With so many narrative leads to follow -- not to mention Jimmy to find for the amiable Lydia -- even a barlord as talented as himself had enough on his hands.

Bast wasn't doing it for Neville, though. Bast was looking for diversion. Things had been unnaturally quiet in the bar for at least two hours, which is a long time for a large, intermittently telepathic feline to entertain himself.

"It's drunk because our co-President was also drunk," he explained. "So she shouted the bar. But one of the delegates didn't want what she chose, so he tipped it into the potplant. Which wasn't a nice thing to do at all," he added severely, glaring at the Mdn rep, who, deep in thought, didn't notice.

"I'm Bast," he added; and then, swiftly, to get it all over with in one breath, "I'm the feline advisor to the co-presidents of Ardchoille, which in this case means Dicey Reilly, and yes, I look like a giant cat, and no, I'm not, I'm a member of one of the two intelligent races that occupy the nation in question, and yes, she is a witch, and yes, we are telepathic, but only at home. And may I buy you a drink?"

Overhearing the discussion between the cat and the queen, (or the delegate and the domesticate), the Empress sat down with her third mixed drink and thought nothing of the strange discussion except, "If you're telepathic, you know she wants a drink, don't you?"

ALL pooooopieee HAHAHAHA POOOOPIEEEEE should be mandatory to eat

Hodgelett sauntered over.
"If you're a politician you've mastered not hearing anything except what you want to hear." Turning to Bast she said "So you've never found that someone with great telepathic or kinetic activities can communicate with you?"
Remembering the Empress of Lichstenburgh's other comment she added, "I don't think Zamudaland's delegate needs a drink unless she plans to have two scotches, you don't Miss, do you? Sorry, I do not know your name, mine's Hodgelett of Randomea."

"thank you barkeep" atlast a good gin and tonic, seeing that there are others
taking notice in that blasted plant, feeling at least a little guilty about pouring the drink that was looking at me with more than a little interest in to the plants pot. i say out loud " ya know it really wanted the drink, the plant did, i mean i don't just go about pouring drinks that look as if they want to do bodily harm to me into the flora and fawna about me". taking another long pull off of my gin and tonic.... looking a little more fit to address the situation,
"ahem, did anyone see fit to get that waitress untangled"?

Alena turns to Hodgelett and raises her glass.

"We'll see how I feel once this one is gone." Grinning, Alena takes a sip. Oh this is quite good, she thinks. Maybe coming here wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"My name is Alena, and I am the delegate of Zamundaland. I am also the daughter of our President. Nice to meet you."

Taking another sip of her drink, Alena turns to Bast. "So... let me see if I have this straight. You are the advisor to your co-presidents, you look like a giant cat but are not one, and someone is a witch, though I'm not entirely certain who "she" is. And if she is a witch, does that mean you are a witch as well? And why are you only telepathic at home? That doesn't seem to make much sense. Of course, there's probably a perfectly simple explanation which I'm dying to hear."

Looking at the woman who sat down at the table, Alena smiles and nods to her.

Getting comfortable, Alena takes another sip of her drink and wonders if she shouldn't order something to eat. An empty stomach and alcohol aren't a very good mix - unless you're planning to do something extremely foolish and potentially embarrassing (but usually a great deal of fun). Since embarrasing her country isn't high on Alena's list of activities for the day, she decides she'd better eat. Let's leave foolish and embarrassing for another day, she thinks.

"Bartender..." Looking at her companions, she asks, "does anyone know his name?..."

Looking back at the bartender she asks, "May I have a menu please?"

Oh... and perhaps some coffee for that unfortunate plant? Alena looks at the representative from Mdn and can't help but laugh. Drunken plants, indeed... What next?

I think the strangers bar is a great idea...

Walther paces back and forth in his corner of the bar and wanders off occasionally to the window to look how the progress of the listening post is coming along.

He orders another cup of coffee from Neville and gazes out over the occupants of the bar, stroking his beard from time to time, contemplating something which seems to be of grave importance.

"Neville you mean? He is more than a bartender you know, he knows everybody's secrets, yet keeps them all, he would be the best intelligence agent if he wasn't so devoted to his bar, and of course all the custom that goes with it." Pauses and grins at the aforementioned bar owner. "Neville belay that request, none of your frozen menu rubbish, what's the Specials for Today for our new member?"

"Excellent! Thank you Hodge... nothing better than dining at a new place with a regular. May I call you Hodge - or is that being rude?" Alena takes her cigarettes out of her purse and lights one. Through the screen of smoke she takes a good look around. There are a few people at tables eating or looking over paperwork while having a relaxing drink. She sighs... she knows she has her own stack of paperwork to look through and wishes it would magically disappear. The last thing she wants to do is go over dry, boring UN reports.

Alena turns back to Neville. "Never mind the list of specials. Just give me something fairly international with meat and potatos in it and I'll be happy."

Alena notices a man resplendent in full armor walk over to the window and look out. He seems pleased at whatever he sees out the window and Alena wonders if there is a platoon of armor-wearing fanatics forming outside. For there is something about the man that makes Alena think he takes whatever he is doing very, very seriously. Alena shivers. Wouldn't be a good idea to get on the wrong side of *that* one, she thinks.

Turning back to Hodglett and Bast she asks "Do many people around here wear full armor? And if so... why?"

Alena has found over the years that the best way to get information is to just ask. Of course, you then have to figure out if you've been told the truth, but for the most part it has been a fairly successful tactic. Most people look at Alena and think she's a ditzy, party girl that her President mother tries to keep out of trouble and tend to tell her pretty much whatever she wants to know and a few extra things besides. While the party-girl image is partly true, Alena knows how to use her image to her advantage. And to the advantage of her mother. She knows if she's patient she'll find out everything she needs to know.

Alena takes another pull off her cigarette and lifts her drink. "Anyone having another?"

A Bar is an awesome idea, many great things were thought and pondered over in bars.. ..er dont recall any off the top off my head though
*Tucks in to one of the Strangers' Bar's Famous Hamburgers*

the great Phrophet's of the holy city of HighCharity concur with alll who agree with this "bar" as you "humans" call it.we are very plased...

Walther took another sip of his coffee and opened a pocket on his belt, sticking an armoured finger inside of it to pick something up from it. After a few moments of rummaging around in the pocket he closed that and repeated the same procedure on another of his belt pockets. Failing to find whatever he was looking for, he surveyed the room quickly and locked his gaze at the table where Hodgelett and the others where sitting.

Walther began moving in their direction and when he came to their table the occupants were dwarfed by his 2.8 meter of armoured body. He kneeled down beside the Zamundalandian delegate and asked her; "-Would you mind sharing one of your cigarettes? I seem to be out."

Even though Walther was kneeling, he was still towering beside the other occupants of the table, as he stood as high as any man standing regularly.

Meat and potatoes? As if! Cook would throw a hissy-fit (and the last, the very last thing any life-affirming, civilisation-enjoying mortal wants is a Bahgumian Mother-in-law Cook throwing a hissy-fit).

Neville's fingers blurred on the keyboard as he played a food-ordering symphony that would see delivered to the ravenous hordes a series of Auth-egg omelettes. He knew that a mysterious protein within the eggs of the Great Auth of Entic would accommodate itself to the nutritional needs, tastes and desires of any diner.

Meanwhile, Bast swiftly resolved the confusion over his and Dicey's telepathic gifts. "We're only telepathic at home because we're only allowed to do it at home," he explained. There was no real need to mention that Dicey always felt thoroughly at home in a bar, any bar, and he himself held the philosophical view that home is where the next meal is. (Not for him the sentimental view that a house just isn't a home without a human snoring snugly before the fire).

Time to divert the conversation.

"Zamundaland ... isn't it one of your citizens who presides so colourfully over an open-minded establishment called Madame Gazunda's House of Wonders, Corporate Discounts Available, Coming-of-Age Celebrations a Specialty, Ask About Our Pensioner Thursdays?" he said. "City of Platinumberg, in Drazden, I'm thinking."

Dicey, wandering up with the drunken plant (now at the maudlin stage), wondered idly how come Bast knew so much about a human brothel in such a distant nation.

Actually, the last thing you want is a Bahgumian Mother in Law's cooking, a form of sustenance designed to bring woe and shock to all men, and proven to grind Fathers in Law to a withered submissive sorry state

Why do you think that we Bahgumians drink so much? Or that our national motto includes the venerable pie, a tasty item readily available in all good bakeries?

Sir Albert settles back to his pint and makes a mental note, not to go near the kitchen, never mind order something to eat......

Although tha should not mock t'humble meat n'potatoes, when combined in a pie we get t'mighty meat n' tato pie, the pinnacle of pastry inventions.

Alena had to move her chair back a bit just to look up at Walther. Damn he was big... she wondered if that was him or the machinery - for now that he was up close she could see it wasn't just a suit of armor but more a... she wasn't entirely certain *what* it was. She recognized the armament attached to it though, and the noise it was making was definitely a breathing apparatus. Her curiousity was piqued even more. Which wasn't a good sign.

Smiling up at him she extended her pack toward him. "Of course not. If you wouldn't mind an introduction. My name is Alena and you have got to be the largest man I think I've ever seen." Which wasn't entirely true - but he really *was* big. Alena wondered if what they always say really was true... Either that or a very clever lie started by really big guys so they'd be able to score every once in a while, she mused. Which would just about figure.

Alena shifted in her chair a bit - damn if she wasn't getting a cramp in her neck.

Looking over at Neville, she saw he had apparently completed her order. Auth eggs? She thought she must be terribly provincial as she had no idea what that might be. Hoping she wouldn't be ill later, she called out a thank you to Neville and a request for another drink. What the hell - if the possibility of being ill later was a part of the program might as well enjoy the prelude.

Turning back to Bast, Alena had a very small smile on her face. "Madame Gazunda - yes, she's from Zamundaland. Her establishment is rather entertaining, isn't it?"

Madame Gazunda's was a very well-financed (and very expensive) brothel catering to just about any taste imaginable. No matter how bizarre the request, Terli Gazunda somehow managed to accommodate it. Usually. She was also a very loyal and patriotic citizen of Zamundaland and it was at her brothel that Alena and her mother stayed during their short period of exile. 'What better place than here, Madame President' Terli had said. 'No one will think to look for the President and her daughter here - not much activity during the day - plenty of coming and going at night so your people may come and go as needed without arousing suspicion - the customers are far too busy with other things to be looking at women's faces so you will be quite safe.' And they had been.

Alena remembered one particular night when she had been hiding and watching the people in the outer rooms. Unlike Dicey, Alena knew exactly why Bast was familiar with that particular brothel. Her smile deepened and rather than take *that* particular thought any further, she desperately tried to think of something else. The breathing apparatus thankfully caught her attention.

Looking back up at Walther. "It can't be terribly comfortable kneeling like that - why not join us?"

Suseck streches and rises from her chair. "I think I'll go get another drink. It's been a long day. Had a couple of spammers in our region that we had to take care of. Don't they ever learn?"

As Suseck approaches the bar, she cocks her head to the side, as if listening to something. She returns to her table without ordering a drink.

"Oh dear. One of our nations seems to be in a bit of a bind. No matter though. It's being taken care of."

Suseck smiles and sits back again.

OOC: The rebrether apparatus is only active when Walther wears his helmet, but there is sound emanating from his ancient powerarmour, mostly from the fusionreactor fitted in the backpack and the servos used to move it.

Walther took the cigarette Ms. Alena proffered him and lit it with a previously unseen small flame emanating from a small cavity on his armours right lower armguard. "-Thank you miss, I think I will join you for a while."

Walther got up again and took a seat opposite to Ms. Alena, the servos in his armour whirring as he moved. The chair he sat on looked ridiculously small compared to his armoured body, and it creaked suspiciously as he sat on it. As on a cue, Neville appeared at Walthers side with a fresh cup of coffee and an ashtray for him.

Walther took a pull of his cigarette knowing that smoking was not bad for him. He smoked anyway, and it was a bad habit he picked up from one of his Inquisitor friends when he was in the deathwatch.

"-How come this sudden interest in brothels?" Walther asked and gazed through the smoke at Ms. Alena

"It's true, look you may or may not believe me but that drink was what made that plant act that way, i had no idea that this sort of thing is allowed in such a fine establishment as this"! feeling rather embarassed about the whole mess, i feel that it is my duty, nay it's in my best interest for my own sanity to prove what happened, " I shall ladies and gentlemen prove without a shadow of a doubt" pause waiting for effect, "that the aforementioned plant is guilty of being" another pause," a threat to this establishment in sofar as it's not a plant at all" the plant immediately taking notice of my accusation tries to get free of it's pot.

It failing at this, topples over and crashes into the table next to it. Out from the ruined pot emerges a troll brandishing an evil grin, waitress in one hand and a rather nasty looking blade in the other. Siezing the moment i leap forward and disarm the ugly bugger, I say to the amazement of the crowd of on lookers, "You see my fellow companions i was not under the influance as some suspected, this little bugger has been listening to each and everything that has been said here this evening".

Startled by the sudden attack and the emergence the troll, Lydia dropped one of the pints of cider she was carrying and whilst trying to catch the other, spilled even more on the floor and over her dress. The resulting mess of liquid and glass covered a large radius around her, accompanied by a feeling of embarrassment quickly beginning to overwhelm her. Hoping the incident at the other end of the room somehow overshadowed her little accident, she glanced at Neville in desperation, but with his attention focused on the battle, there was little hope of rescue.

“Damn it, I look like that troll,” she thought to herself. Lydia took great care in her appearance and this was a disaster beyond imagination. Her dress was completely soaked and whilst she enjoyed Findhorn’s fine cider, she did not exactly want to smell of it or wear it! There was little chance of a covert escape; the door was at the other end of the room and everyone’s attention focused in that direction thanks to that troll. Rapidly trying to find a solution to her predicament, her mind was in overdrive calculating, measuring and discarding possible solutions in the hope of finding the one that would magically save her. In the end her final resolution was more an act of desperation than a practical solution. At first she found herself unable to speak, but finally a cracked voice appeared from the corner, “some help please?”

TO ANY ONE INTERESTED IN LEAVING ANY REGION: I am Emperor SalvatoreIII Of HolyRome of and Leader of Empires Of Italy we would like to offer you or any other person you would like to acompany us you to join our up and comming region. By doing this you will insure a powerful position in our region since you will be one of the first to join. Please get back to us no matter what your answer is thanks you

Walther watches the commotion about the newly found troll and bides his time thinking that maybe someone else will get a chance to deal with the troll until he does.

"But of course, fair lady!"

Brother Timothy relished saying that. For here was the undeniably fair Lydia, on whom several innocently moonlit dreams had been based, and here was he; able, for once in his life, to come to the rescue.

With a flourish he whipped off his homespun robe and wrapped it around the shivering, cider-soaked form of his Regional rep.

"There, there!" he crooned -- and then wondered how to interpret the expression on her face.

For Brother Tim had, once again, forgotten the showy glory of his nether garments. At least, this time, it wasn't an indentifiable tartan, but purple polka-dots on a yellow background aren't easily ignored.

Desperately he snatched up the no-longer-offending plant and, positioning it strategically in front of him and trailing drifts of soil, headed majestically towards the melee at the door, followed dubiously by a small cowled figure.

"We three kings of Orient are," he intoned. "Bear-ing gifts, we tra-vel afar ... "

"One on a scooter, honking his hoo-oo-ter," carrolled Dicey, mistakenly but tunefully. She attached herself to the rear of what was now a procession , wrapped in the flowing folds of a discarded white Welcome to Penguitalia T-shirt.

"Foll-ow-ing yonder star," joined a swelling chorus of variously accented voices.

Regrettably, no-one knew the second verse of either version of the old song, and a noisy difference of opinion developed when an attempt was made to describe what Good King Wenceslas saw when he Looked Out.

But Neville and Jimmy shrewdly harmonised into And So This Is Christmas, with Bast quietly counterpointing the "war is o-ver" bit. As they sang, "The world is so wrong" and then, "Let's stop all the fight," shamefaced sniffles were heard. Suddenly ...

"I'm so SOR-RRYYYY!" roared the troll, in floods of repentant tears.

seeing that the troll is gaining sympathy from the patrons of the bar i calmly state in a firm but steady voice "do you people not see this is an act? He, er It is, ummm, well, oh great now the bloody thing is crying." Feeling that the momentum that i had seemingly gained start to fade i try one last attempt to prove that the nasty little bugger is attempting to gain these fine peoples confidence, "Just look at the fangs, and just what is that he has in the folds of, er, i say what is that you are wearing anyhow."

stunned by the lack of attention that this situation warrents i throw my hands up and before i make my way back to the bar i adress the patrons as such" Let me introduce myself, I am Nicholas the First, ah excuse me," turning away counting on my six fingered left hand let's see there was gramps, great gramps, oh yeah and great great gramps so, turning back to the crowd "make that Nicholas the Fourth , but i always go by Nicky." feeling somewhat uneasy about this i decide to put an end to this debacle, looking at the troll, "Ahem you blighted bugger you need to pull yourself together and stop this nonsense at once, the crying i mean".

The Troll seeing that no harm will come from me brightens up and says, "SSSoo youuu'll bbbe bubuyying me ahhh drrrinkk aftterralll".
Somewhat taken aback by this i reply "You see people he's, er It's at it again
look you bloody troll I didn't buy you the first drink and i won't be buying you the next one either and for that matter the next one after that".

Neville politely taps my shoulder and speaks in very low tones in my ear,
bending slighty to hear this for lack of a better word 'enlightenment',
my face is turning bright red with anger. "What?, This is an outrage I came in here to enjoy a good drink, perhaps a fine meal, and some pleasent company!
Now your telling me that since i freed that ugly little vile and smelly creature, that I'm his Master"! gasping for breath I take the nearest glass and promptly down it's contents. "Oh bloody hell" , I say "Its the blasted drink i poured in to the plant".

My vision slowly coming back in to a semblance of what could be mistaken for focus. Stareing me full in the face is the troll, "Oh bloody hell, this is going to take some very large amounts of some very,very,very strong drinks, I say Neville drinks for the house".

* Pokes head around the door...*

Ermm....Scuse me.....

Hello...??



Anyone tell me where the toilets are....?.....Please.....



Oh....



Doesnt matter....


*Squelches toward the door n exits....*



I.P. Knightly


Prime Minister of Rolldova... :(

A man clad in uniform, a light battlearmour and carrying a rifle of some kind enters the bar and approches Walther. Upon reaching the table where Walther sits, he stands a sharp attention, salutes and reports.

"-Dominus Brandl, audio stipes est promptus pro vestri suffragium."

"-Praeclarus , Ego fides vestri censura huic res miles militis. Iam, famulor ut vestri pius. Imperator servo." Walther responds.

The man salutes once again, turns around and marches out again.

A prominent British man entered through the doors, as he made his way to the bar he metioned in passing to Walther and the uniformed man, "Curiosus. Latin est a celebrer lingua universitas super. Ego would exsisto magis cautus sermo in talis a publicus locus."

Alena slips unnoticed in all the commotion to the bathroom to place a call home. She's not quite sure why Walther is so interested in her and Bast's conversation about Madame Gazunda, who knows - it could be entirely innocent, but she thinks it's probably a good idea to find out who this guy really is just in case.

"Hello... Gerry?"

"Gerry - I need you to find something out for me - get me whatever information you can on a guy named Walther Brandl."

"No Gerry... I'm not sleeping with him"

"No Gerry.... he's not blackmailing me - jeez... what exactly do you think I do in bed? Wait... don't answer that. I don't want to know what your twisted brain might come up with."

"Gerry..."

"Gerry!"

"Damn it Gerry - less fantasies and more information if you don't mind. Just find out who the hell he is and what he's about - alright?"

Muttering Alena puts the communication device away. Damn Gerry. That guy needs a girlfriend.

Returning to her table, Alena picks up her drink and looks around. "So... what'd I miss?"

A tall man with slightly huanched shoulders in a casual shirt is standing over to the side, trying to observe the situation with the Troll. He obviously hasn't talked to anyone yet, and his eyes are hazel with a bit of orange around the middle.

He overhears Alena talking and goes over and says "Well, the Troll has had a few drinks and got tipsy and vomited in Walther 's lap." He said, pointing to an obviously discusted Walther, stumbling his way toward the bathrooms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to introduce myself, I'm President Seppuku, President of Graceofseppuku." He says, flustered that he forgot to be courteous and that his etiquette officer will lecture him for this.

The man then sits down, and orders himself some lemonade, because either he's not alchoholic or doesn't want to be sedated enough to miss something important.

Intrigued, Walther replies the British looking fellow "-How come you know high gothic? It is not widespread in the regular populace of the Empire."

The tipsy troll that vomited on Walther's holy suit of power armour got a taste of its wearer’s immense strength. An armoured hand the size of the troll itself picked it up and hurled it straight into the wall across the bar as Walther roared in anger, his eyes blazing and the otherwise invisible symbols covering his armour flashing for a fraction of a second.

"-Blasphemous heretic! Foul Xenos! Digredior Deus-Imperator vadum attero vos!"

As Walther threw himself out of his chair he shot a blazing glance over to Nicholas the Fourth, the supposed "owner" of this creature. "-If I did not know any better, I would cast the God-Emperors divine retribution upon thee for the actions of your pet-creature for vomiting, not only on the Emperors chosen, but on the sacred artefact of a holy power armour! By the throne! Such sacrilege!"

Then Walther stomped off towards the restrooms to clean himself up a bit.

He returned a minute later, slightly calmer than when he left, sat down and drank what was left of his coffee.

"-Now, where were we?"

Still shaken up by the violent display of magic and or high technology that took place in front of him shook Seppuku up considerably.
It was very visible as he raised the cup to his quivering lips, and spilled some lemonade on the counter.
He put his cup back down, embarrassed for people to see a government official spill his own lemonade, plus his casual clothes, and his choice of lemonade as his drink, did give him a childish demeanor.
Seppuku heard a bit about 'high gothic' and placed a call to his advisor of foreign affairs to discuss a translation.

The British man turned again to the man he now understood to be Walther, "Let me introduce myself, I am Prime Minister Wunderlich of the Constitutional Monarchy of England and Ireland." He continued, "And about the, what did you call it, oh high gothic, I kinda picked up on it in my travels before I was Prime Minster."

A waiter approached the table, "May I get something for you sirs?"

"Yes," the Wunderlich answered, " I fancy a very large martini."

"-Well Mr. Wunderlich, if you know high gothic, you must be aquainted with some of the more prominent members of the Imperium. Where have you been in your travels then? Thracian Primaris in the Helican sub? Scarus Major in the Scarus sector? Or perhaps you have seen the vast valley Laponis on Macragge, where the fortress of Hera, bastion of the Ultramarines lie?"

Walther brow raised ever so slightly as he asked Mr. Wunderlich the questions.

"-And I would like an additional cup of coffee please."

Mr. Wunderlich looked over at Walther, "I have visted none of these that you have mentioned, I just have a knack at picking up some of the more mainstream languages, and what about a crusade?"

The waiter approaches with the drinks placing down the martini in front of Wunderlich. He takes a sip, he grimaces, "Oh, bloody hell, thats, ugh, just bring me a cup of tea, my god, I've never tasted something so foul."

The waiter looks troubled suddenly, "Sorry sir." he departs.

"-Calling the language of the God-Emperor himself "mainstream" is probably heresy to some degree, but I will let that slip this time. And wich crusade are you referring to? Perhaps the Black templars crusade for Armageddon?"

Walther nursed his new cup of coffee in his massive gloved hands as he spoke and took a sip when he had finished.

Wunderlich wiped away the remnants of the drink from his lips and turned back to Walther, "Oh...quite right, terribly sorry for calling it "Mainstream" no offense meant good chap. What I meant really was that it seems to be composed of several mainstream languages all put together into one language. Oh, the crusasde was just something I heard in passing and thought you might be aware of something I was not."

The waiter returned with Wunderlich's tea. He cautiously raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, "Not bad, not the best tea ever but better than that horrible rubbish he served earlier, now, where were we?"

Lydia was both very pleased and surprised at the appearance of Brother Timothy, particularly having failed to find him in the bar despite her best efforts. Nevertheless she could not have asked for a kinder person to come to her aid and giving her his robe, at the risk of exposing those undergarments, well was quite touching really. Lydia could not help but smile at the good fellow as he was making his way to the door, plant and all.

Making her way to the bathroom Lydia noticed Alena from Zamundaland walking past her and regretted not having spoken to her earlier, though this was probably not the best time considering her position. Besides, she seemed rather preoccupied and thought it best to arrange meeting for a drink later. One look in the mirror told Lydia there was no way of salvaging her situation. The decision to leave took hardly any time at all, walking past the bar to the door, gracefully wearing Brother Tim’s robe as if it was the latest outfit to hit the major catwalks of the day.

Hodgelett opened the door and walked back in to the Bar. "Problem with being a delegate they expect you to go travelling, and it started raining again."
"Jeez, we do have a situation!" she said as she sees members run out wearing various odd bits of apparel, drunken christmas carols were sung from the corners, a troll was splattered against a wall and Walther was talking in a vaguely familiar language.
"sum, es, est, sumus, estis, sunt," she muttered to herself as she pulled up a chair.

Alena took her seat at the table and as inconscpicuously as possible listened to Walther and PM Wunderlich's conversation. Fortunately for her, Walther seemed a bit preoccupied; but then who wouldn't be after having their armor decorated with troll splatter. Alena hadn't been the best student in school so she couldn't identify what language they were peppering their conversation with - but with a word or two memorized she figured she could find someone who studied a bit more than she had and have them translate it for her. She sighed. Things had been a lot easier before her mother became President. Used to be when she was hanging out in bars it was to dig up a half-way decent man, not information potentially useful to her country.

Anyone watching Alena at that moment would have noticed her sit up straighter and the strange gleam that entered her eyes, along with the cheshire cat smile she now wore. "Who says I can't do both?" Before Alena could actually process that thought into any type of ill-conceived action, Hodgelett sat down at the table.

"Hi there, Hodgelett. Let me buy you a drink - you may need one" she says, laughing. "Between drunken trolls and Walther's fascinating armor, it's been a bit interesting." Turning toward Neville, she calls out an order for herself and Hodgelett. "Oh and Neville - would you ask the nice Mr. President over there if he'd like another lemonade? He seems to have spilled his."

Turning back to the table, she decides what the hell, and plunges in with both feet. "Tell me about your God-Emporer, Walther, as I know nothing about where you come from. Are you in service to him?" Based on her observations, she's pretty certain he is, but figures it's an innocent enough question and might even get Walther into a conversation that would allow the President of Seppuku drink his lemonade and calm down a bit. He seemed like a nice enough guy to her, but clearly Walther had him a bit upset.

Seeing that she had Walther's attention, she holds her cigarettes out for him, gesturing for him to take one. After lighting her own, she leans back in her chair and waits to see what Walther has to say.

Some people would have fainted at magical armor, but no, he was just dumbstruck.

Seppuku shook his head as Neville offered him another lemonade. He happened to glance over to everyone at Walther's table smoking, so he asssumed they were all going to die before the age of 50 from lung cancer. Of course, he didn't want to see that happen, but reality WAS reality. Suddenly, his phone rang, and his advisor of Foreign Affairs had nothing to say about 'high gothic'. Seppuku decided to give up on that lead for now. He leaned back to eavesdrop on Walther's table, to see what kind of magical technology Walther seemed to posess in his armor.

Seppuku's mind began to wander...

Could it be dark magic?
Not that it mattered, because Seppuku held the dark and the light in the same regard, as if under a gray light. Seppuku chuckled at his outlook on things for a bit, compared to most people's.

He smiled, and then realized he wasn't listening to the conversation behind him, as he started to listen, it seemed Alena was asking questions about just what he wanted to hear to Walther.

Walther took the proffered cigarette and lit it. Taking a pull of the newly lit cigarette he leaned back in the chair he sat upon. The chair creaked under the stress of Walthers immense armoured body but the sound of the creaking chair was drowned as Walther spoke.

“-For more than a hundred centuries the God-Emperor has sat immobile on the golden throne of Terra. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and a master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies.”

The words Walther spoke sounded as if he was reading them from a book and he had a humble intonation to every word he spoke, as if was reading from the holiest of all holy books in this, and any other, universe. He knew every word by heart.

“-He is a victim of a terrible tragedy and a great heresy done by his closest man and friend and now he sits upon his throne writhing invisibly with power from the dark age of technology. He is the Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battle fleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only rout between distant stars, their way lit by the astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperors will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest among his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes. Their comrades in arms are legion; The Imperial guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few.”

Walther eyes were blazing yet again, but this time not with anger, but with pride and joy for the words he spoke. He straightened up a bit from his chair as he continued,

“-The Adeptus Astartes answers to no one, but we have sworn an oath to serve the God-Emperor with our lives to protect the Empire from the foul forces of Xenos, mutants and heretics.”

Walther clenched his fist as he spoke the last sentence and once again his eyes were ablaze with the wrath infused into him with the gene-seed of his primarch. With a crash his fist came down on the table, sending everything upon it into a frantic dance from the power of the impact, a few empty bottles toppled over and fell to the floor with a crash, spraying the legs of the tables occupants with fragments of glass. With a voice that did not seem to belong to Walther at all, the massive armoured man spoke again, his voice strained with furious anger.

“-Through the destruction of our enemies we earn our salvation!”

Most occupants of the bar quivered with fear as Walther intoned his words with an immense, ancient authority. One or two passed out and one broke down and cried. The troll who lay slumped against the wall at the back of the bar panicked and ran on it’s broken limbs out the nearest exit clawing it’s hair and screaming in sheer terror of Walther’s words.

Walther sat still for a moment while he composed himself. He removed his armoured fist, which was larger than a mans head, from the table, leaving a rather large indentation in it. Walther spent a few more moments to further calm himself down and then he spoke again.

“-I am sorry if I got a bit carried away there, but as you can see, I have been through a lot lately.”

He gestured towards his battle scarred armour, full of acid burns, bullet holes which looked like they been made by a small tank, scratch marks that seemed to come from an animal slightly smaller than a clawed elephant on steroids and the occasional presumed bloodstain. Those with a keen eye could see that Walther had a fresh scar crossing his face making his features somewhat more menacing than a minute ago.

He took another pull of his cigarette and ordered another cup of coffee, and then he called in a few servitors to clean up the mess he caused and to help those who were in need of a little medical attention.

Seppuku was lucky he hadn't fainted, and that he now knew of the power that Walther knew of.

He was also slightly appauled at Walther's boasting of his battle scars, but he could stand that.

Seppuku had an idea, and began jotting down what he remembered of Walther's speech on a napkin.

Thassaloss Kahn walks in to the room with another member of his governments council. The seem to be in a low voiced heated debate over the current UN proposal.

.... Kahn I believe that it would be wise to wait until our delegate decides how he is going to vote before we make our vote. Consider the implications of what you are doing.

<Thassaloss Kahn looks at his fellow council member then speaks>

... Consider this.... The Babaylon Council is in political turmoil. Until our illustrious and newly elected UN Delegate asks for our support then he shall not get it. We of The Most Serene Republic of Thassaloss must encourage solidarity of our fledgling council even if that means through contrary actions or acting without consulting the current Delegate.

... Thassaloss looks around and realizes others maybe listening as so conducts his conversations in lower hushed tones....


Speaker Thassaloss Kahn of
The Most Serene Republic of Thassaloss :sniper:

Alena watched Walther as he explained, as best he could apparently, about his God-Emporer. She had wondered there for a moment if she had inadvertently exposed everyone at the table to a rather dangerous episode, but other than a few glass cuts, a few tears and a couple of unconscious bodies laying around, everyone seemed o.k. With the possible exception of the troll. Alena didn't think she'd ever seen anything with broken bones move quite that fast... And if it never came back, she thought the Mdn representative probably owed Walther a drink - at the very least.

Speaking of drinks - Alena turned to the bartender; "Neville, I'm not entirely certain more caffeine is a good idea." Then she wondered how one would go about telling Walther no, particularly given the scene they'd all just witnessed. Neville was apparently of the same mind, as a fresh cup of coffee was placed in front of Walther almost immediately.

As a servitor was cleaning the small cuts on her legs, Alena leaned over to Walther, whom she rather liked despite his tendency to religious-like fervor, and whispered "ummm.... Walther, hon... I think that president of wherever sitting there at the bar is taking notes on what you had to say... don't know if you need to be concerned about that or not but thought you might like to know." Knowing she may have just set the scene for a potentially violent encounter, Alena decided a trip to the bathroom might be just the thing and rose to make her way across the room.

The leader of XelNaga Raiders,the freshly elected representative of the people united, enters the room. He is impressed of the nice atmosphere and sits down on the bar, ordering a cold drink.

Me? An old UN member who got his old nation back.

A Jan 2005 nation with 300 million people?

Never thought I want see that.

was there a sequiter in there somewhere?

was there a sequiter in there somewhere?

Yes. Look up Sarkaraseta.

YGSM, Asshelmeti Ambassador to NSUN, enters the strangers bar.
I am tall with a neatly trimmed full beard and hair cropped short except for a shock of long blond hair on top. Informal tonight - jeans, a black t-shirt, brown suede shoes and a corduroy jacket.

I get a scotch from the bar and look around for Slender Goddess.

asshelmetta

Hello - I am new to all of this. I am still finding my way around these forums. So do we talk privately? Did you want me to beat you?

I see a person looking at me from across the room, and wonder if it is the stranger that I am supposed to meet.

I sip my gim gimlet, and gaze back at the him from over the rim of my glass.

Casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, I blend with the others in the room.

asshelmetta

Hello - I am new to all of this. I am still finding my way around these forums. So do we talk privately? Did you want me to beat you?
Out Of Character (OOC): This is role-playing. Publicly, too... so whatever you're comfortable with...


Well, hello gorgeous! Can I buy you a drink?

Waiter! A bottle of champagne, please!

Well, hello gorgeous! Can I buy you a drink?

Waiter! A bottle of champagne, please!

Hello, yes. Please sit down and join me. I saw you looking at me. I enjoy champagne. A friend of mine told me once it made me mean. So, the next time he came to visit, he brought some with him.

I was amused.

You do seem like you'd be gorgeous when you're angry.

What say we take this bottle of champagne to the alcove over there and you can show me just how beautiful you can be?

The alcove would be a good place to have some privacy, but you might be the one showing me things about you. Me, I wish to be entertained and you have just been elected the entertainment.

Pulls privacy curtain across alcove entrance.

Unbuckles belt and hands it to Slender Goddess.

"Your command is my wish, Goddess!"

"Nice belt. Quality leather. Should hold up.

On your knees. Remove my shoes and kiss my feet."

*Strokes your back as you kneel before me and remove my spiked heels and begin kissing my feet with fervor*

"Good boy!"

Tears open privacy curtains and fires off a series of shots that'll appear in next week's UN Enquirer after some photoshopping

Ignores camera flashes and kisses feet thoroughly, paying special attention to licking the arches of the feet and begging for permission before sucking on the toes.

the hands, meanwhile, are caressing the back of Slender Goddess's calves. And sliding up the back of her thighs...

OOC: we could continue this through telegrams, if you want. although that would make both of us much less popular in the UN, at this point...

Thinks of headline "Asshelmetta Beard Tickled My Thighs"

"Epidemic of Athlete's Tongue Strikes Asshelmetta"

Oh Goddess, my only Goddess! Forgive me.

No, don't forgive me! Punish me! Yes, punish me!

*takes pants off, while sucking and licking furiously. lets the licks start travelling up the ankle...*

President Carpenter, supposed to meet a UN delegation in the bar somewhere in a private alcove, accidently walks into the alcove where Asshelmet's leader is located. His eyes bulged.
"Oh...shit. I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to interrupt!"

"Quite a dilemma - punish you and give you what you desire or simply leave now and listen to your pleas as I walk away and leave your pathetic cries behind me.

You certainly could use a good whipping, boy. That is for sure. First, however there is the issue of not following orders!"

Strikes asshelmeti fiercely across his back with the belt. A long groan escapes his lips and he pratically swallows the entire right foot thrust inside his mouth.

*Takes photograph of canoe in President Carpenter's pocket and hopes they're male*

Looks up to see President Carpenter.

"Good evening President. Would you care to join us? I could work you over next."

Sly grin escapes my face.

*sucks on entire right foot like Pamela Anderson*

Yes Goddess, please Goddess. May I have another?

*raises butt to a more accomodating striking position*

Looks up to see President Carpenter.

"Good evening President. Would you care to join us? I could work you over next."

Sly grin escapes my face.
Carpenter's eyes bulged even larger. "No...I...I think I'll go now..." With that, he tore out of the room and out of the bar altogether, jumping into his helicopter and ordered the pilot to take him straight back to PIcaRDMPCia.

*I make three very quick strikes on asshelmeti's butt, to be gratified by his seductive movements of his ass and an increase in vigor at foot worship*

"Good boy. Yes, I think you may be learning. I notice are very skilled at kissing my feet. You could prove to worth training further"

*More quick strikes are laid across his shoulders*

excited beyond control, reaches up and grabs Slender Goddess's butt.
Begins kissing the insides of her thighs, midway up...


OOC: Oh hell, were you wearing a skirt or jean? please say it was a skirt!

excited beyond control, reaches up and grabs Slender Goddess's butt.
Begins kissing the insides of her thighs, midway up...


OOC: Oh hell, were you wearing a skirt or jean? please say it was a skirt!

OCC: Jeans

excited beyond control, reaches up and grabs Slender Goddess's butt.
Begins kissing the insides of her thighs, midway up...


OOC: Oh hell, were you wearing a skirt or jean? please say it was a skirt!

I thought you'd be more interested as to why she has a third leg, but hey...whatever

*tries to run off to the UN Enquirer offices, but fall over*

So, I'm sucking denim.

Upward and upward, unless you tell me to stop...

"Stop what you are doing. You are so excited you are slobbering all over my jeans. Just wait. You will get your reward later. First, I get mine"

*pulling a short single tail whip from my pocket, I stand and move behind you*

"Turn you head back around. I didn't tell you to look at me."

*with that, I snap the whip smartly in the crack of your ass*

*in his fall, Plum, lands directly in front of my servant man, who swiftly removes the camera from Plum's hands*

*cries appreciatively, and buries head against the wall.*

I'm sorry Goddess! Please correct me Goddess!

Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!

*In the same motion, I close the curtains knowing my secret is safe and that asshelmeti will pay me for the pictures I now possess.*

*More strokes are laid on asshelmeti's butt and each one elicits a groan of masochistist pleasure.

Yes, Goddess! Let me have some more Goddess!
Show me the error of my ways!

*starts humping the wall furiously*

*pulls out the crayons he's allowed to use and starts to sketch furiously on the back of a menu*

*farts in plumdanglia's general direction, which is so toxic it singes his eyebrows and melts the crayons*

*Slowly and methodically, I work over your back and butt.*

"Thank me again. Say it with love and devotion, this time"

*another hit*

"Yes, I can see now you would be good to take home for training. Look at you; making love to the wall as I flay you. I could take great sport in entertaining myself with you. You might even get to replace my aging bed slave."

*four strokes in quick succession are put at the tops of your thighs*

*dips fingers in melted crayons and starts shouting, "Get your free Brazilians here ladies". After getting no response goes back to his day job and starts fingerpainting the scene on the back of a passing and rather startled UN Delegate*

*asshelmeti begins crying and sliding down the wall in exhaustion for the thorough lashing*

"Get up, you worthless dog. I am done with you. Get your clothes on. You are coming with me.

Asko, get in here. *opens curtain to reveal a blubbering asshelmeti kneeling and holding on to my legs* Get this man off of me and get him package up and brought to my dungeon at once.

*Falls on the floor, prostrate*

*Rips off shirt*

*resumes kissing Slender Goddesses perfect feet*

Please, my one and only Goddess!

Take me home. Tie me up. Restrain me. Chain me. Train me!

Tie me to the walls, crush my balls, anything at all!

*AsKo easily picks up asshelmeti after helping him dress*

"Bring him. Put him in the padded trunk for the ride. No sense letting him know the way or riding with me. He has not earned the priveledge yet."

OCC: It has been fun. Asshelmeti you may contact me off game another time if you wish. I am tired of typing, therefore going off to read.

YGSM's security detail quitely assassinates AkSo, grabs Slender Goddess, and throws her in the armored Asshelmetta limo with YGSM.

*Shouts at the canvassed UN Delegate, "Stand still will you, I've almost finished drawing her naughty bits. It's a good job you've got broad shoulders"*

*Turns round*

Oh damn! There goes my scoop

*watches as a UN street urchin runs off with his official UN ice cream serving implement*

OCC: It has been fun. Asshelmeti you may contact me off game another time if you wish. I am tired of typing, therefore going off to read.
Certainly!

Payback's a bitch, as they say...

North Island's U.N. Delegate walks in and has a seat at the bar, he orders a pint as they say in Ireland. It has been a big day at the U.N.

YGSM's security detail quitely assassinates AkSo, grabs Slender Goddess, and throws her in the armored Asshelmetta limo with YGSM.

OCC: Interesting turn. Now I wished I could stay.

OCC: Interesting turn. Now I wished I could stay.
OOC: I need sleep too. Sweet dreams, fair Goddess!

OOC: I need sleep too. Sweet dreams, fair Goddess!

*Shouts*

Anyone know how to spell Rohypnol?

Sorry, spelling is beyond me, I just came in for a vodka and cranberry juice.

*sips drink*

Cheers.

*suffers an attack of shrekitis*

Och it's OK lassie. Ah've jist funnit oan ma alcopop boatil, "Vodka, Red Bull, Rohypnol & ExLax"

*falls asleep*

Before Walther could say a thing, something was going on behind some curtains, which distracted them both.

After it was over, and there was some melted crayons and armed security advisors all over the place, Walther said something to Alena, and they both looked at Seppuku, still scribbling away.

"Oh, hello Walther." said Seppuku looking up, quite suprised "Do you have something to say about that strange incident that just took place? It was quite odd."

*cries appreciatively, and buries head against the wall.*

I'm sorry Goddess! Please correct me Goddess!

Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!
*Puts on robe and wizard hat*

After that, he NEEDS a good beating.

Hodgelett raised her hand and beckoned Neville over.
"I assume you saw that incident behind that I assume?" She indicated the dishevelled curtain, now hanging lopsidedly across the window. "Now I don't question what rooms you provide upstairs for the more unusual requests you receive from some of the more eccentric members, I didn't fail to notice the dumb waiter between the goat pen and one of the bedrooms when I was on my mobile outside, but could you please keep it from the more respectable areas of this establishment!"

Goats? Dumbwaiters?

Ooh, wait until Plumdanglia hear about this!

Two large men in black suits walk in, surveying the establishment before holding the door open for a third man who walks in wearing a black silky shirt and jeans. One body guard goes up to the bar ordering a Captain Morgans and Coke while the other one sits at a table across from the one his king has chosen. The other bodyguard delivers the drink and takes a seat next to the first, both watching the area.

Somebody get me drink it's like the sahara over here.

Need to drown my sorrows after that last resolution passed, get me a whiskey sour, no wait.. whiskey will do.

*contemplates why people voted for that.. drinks away comtemplations*

Captain Morgan's and coke.
Whiskey sour.
Vodka cranberry.

I feel like I'm in highschool again.
Where's Plumdanglia with his stripper's cocktail?

*wakes up as just before the ExLax takes effect*

Damn! Forgot to bring my adult babywear.

Excuse me good people, I must go and open my bowels.

Goats, eh?

*runs*

Neville unobtrusively intercepts the delegate from Plumdanglia on his return. He beckons to the Asshelmetta rep and extracts a selection of business cards from his vest pocket.

"The Exhibitionists meet Tuesdays at the Treasury," he explains, handing over the appropriate card. "The S & M Association gathers on alternate Thursdays at the Reform Club -- here's their contact number -- and the Adolescent Displays Intended To Shock And Offend are held under floodlights at the Oval on Saturdays at 6pm, no introductions needed."

He smiles toothily. "However, none of them meet at the Strangers' Bar," he points out. "Our clientele is more -- " ... he wonders for a moment how to describe some of the weirder events he has witnessed in the bar; then gives up and settles on ... " -- um, discreet. I'm sure you'll understand."

Hoping sincerely that they will, he turns to Hodgelett. "Look, about the goat ... we're just minding it for Brother Tim ... "

You hand out all these cards and they don't call you Neville the Cardpasser, but you mind just one goat....

Returning from the bathroom, Alena notices the inhabitants of the bar seem to be in something of an uproar... One of the alcove's curtains are all lopsided and hanging oddly, most of the patrons seem to be in shock and Neville, if appearances are anything to go by, seems to be giving someone (or two) some instruction. Clearly, whatever the evening's entertainment was, she missed it.

Heading for the bar, she spies Hodgelett. "There you are... Neville, drinks for us both, I think."

Alena, as she approaches the bar, overhears Neville's attempt at explaining a goat and its close proximity to a dumb waiter and shakes her head. She decides she isn't going near *that* one. Living so near Findhorn, she's heard just about every goat joke there is. And a few goat jokes that weren't jokes at all....

Sounds good

You mean it gets on your goat when people say things like, "When is a goat joke not a goat joke? When it's a nightjar"?

*spies Neville the goffer picking lint off his trousers*

Oi! Leave my trousers alone...about 50 quid should do. They're expecting a postal order from Australia

Make mine a bottle of your finest Buckie, and put it on my tab.

*pulls out can of antique diet drink and places it on the bar*

*noticing a large crowd over at the far end of the bar leading upstairs, Slender Goddess takes a seat near the kitchen to observe the rest of the room*

"Bring me a Bombay gin over cracked ice with a twist" she calls to the waiter as he passes.

*Content to listen to the talk and glad to have escaped her attempted abduction yesterday, Slender Goddess begins taking pictures of the patrons with her hidden camera*

*places black rectangle over his eyes, puts on national dress and stilettos and sits legs akimbo ready for the pictures he knows nothing about being published*

Oi Nev, you tired carrying all those cards around? How about some service, or is that reserved for the goat?

*takes emergency barrel of Buckie off a passing St Burberry*

Hey you'll like this one Nev -

Q) What's the difference between yourself and a nightjar?

A) One letter
http://www.dictionary.net/nightjar

Now don't go denying it, I've seen you making sure the goat's feet are kept warm

Make mine a bottle of your finest Buckie, and put it on my tab.

*pulls out can of antique diet drink and places it on the bar*
*enters*

*wallops Plumdanglia with a large mackerel*

*exits*

sitting at the bar i try to take stock of the situation thus far, speaking in a low but steady tone, "One I came in here for a few drinks, trying to ease a long day of reasuring those that needed it that MDN is and has always been a fair and just country, just because the military is in a massive build up doesn't mean we are preparing for any action....... Two I do not not take kindly to trolls or bad manners, or trolls with bad manners. Three I do believe that the thing with the troll is due to some type of hmmm how can this be said, right it's shall i say magic, tomfoolery is what it is".

noticing the man in the armor crushing tables and what not, "My good man this whole thingy with the troll is not my idea of an impressive first impression, moreover it's a bit of ha pardon the pun a rather sticky one at best."

teh problem here is that you people just don't appreciate plumdanglia's multi-lingual (and multi-species) humor.

Hey bartender, I'll have a bloody mary if you please.

"Well Neville I'll take your word for it, but I'm keeping an eye on you. And I quite agree with Alena, after that a drink will be perfect." Hodgelett noticed an urgent message icon pop up on her palmpilot. "Excuse me a moment Alena, duty is now only a mouseclick away," she said dryly.
If anyone had been watching her while she read her message they would have seen a rapid succession of expressions from surprise, through concern, even anger, thoughtfulness and finally ending with something close to panic. But a delegate never panics. She collected herself before, with resignation, she ordered another drink as she feared this would be her last night of drinking at the bar.
"Er...Neville I think I'll need something stiff, now nothing that will get me tipsy I've got a lot of work to do before tomorrow comes. Not the least clear my desk." She paused, then seeing a couple of eavesdropping members' faces she quickly added "No, I'm not about to be executed, we have no death penalty in my country. No, it's just my region has been shrinking, and my last endorser has ceased to exist. I'm sure I'll be reassigned elsewhere and another selected as Randomea's UN representative." She knocked back the remains of her first drink before looking gloomily at the bottom of the glass. "So much for onwards and upwards eh?"

"Well Neville I'll take your word for it, but I'm keeping an eye on you. And I quite agree with Alena, after that a drink will be perfect." Hodgelett noticed an urgent message icon pop up on her palmpilot. "Excuse me a moment Alena, duty is now only a mouseclick away," she said dryly.
If anyone had been watching her while she read her message they would have seen a rapid succession of expressions from surprise, through concern, even anger, thoughtfulness and finally ending with something close to panic. But a delegate never panics. She collected herself before, with resignation, she ordered another drink as she feared this would be her last night of drinking at the bar.
"Er...Neville I think I'll need something stiff, now nothing that will get me tipsy I've got a lot of work to do before tomorrow comes. Not the least clear my desk." She paused, then seeing a couple of eavesdropping members' faces she quickly added "No, I'm not about to be executed, we have no death penalty in my country. No, it's just my region has been shrinking, and my last endorser has ceased to exist. I'm sure I'll be reassigned elsewhere and another selected as Randomea's UN representative." She knocked back the remains of her first drink before looking gloomily at the bottom of the glass. "So much for onwards and upwards eh?"


East Canadia gone?

Can't say I'm shedding a tear over those newfies.

sitting at the bar i try to take stock of the situation thus far, speaking in a low but steady tone, "One I came in here for a few drinks, trying to ease a long day of reasuring those that needed it that MDN is and has always been a fair and just country, just because the military is in a massive build up doesn't mean we are preparing for any action....... Two I do not not take kindly to trolls or bad manners, or trolls with bad manners. Three I do believe that the thing with the troll is due to some type of hmmm how can this be said, right it's shall i say magic, tomfoolery is what it is".

noticing the man in the armor crushing tables and what not, "My good man this whole thingy with the troll is not my idea of an impressive first impression, moreover it's a bit of ha pardon the pun a rather sticky one at best."

http://************/38utn

Bartender, hand me your strongest drink!

"Leaving? Leaving? Oh, Hodgelett, no ... oh, please ... Hodgelett, marry me! Come live with me, and be my love/There's lots of vacant rooms above ... I'd sponsor you at Barlord U; and when you graduated, you'd be so good at raising the tone of this place ..." Neville faltered to a stop. He'd never intended to go quite so public with his infatuation. "Please?" he pleaded.

"Or you could move to Ardchoille," offered Dicey. "Who knows what abilities you'd develop if you lived there?" Intercepting a decidedly old-fashioned look, she added quickly, "Magical abilities, I mean. You know what happens to humans when they meet the Cats."

"I believe Ardchoille has a vacancy for an envoy to that new region, Lavinium," Bast intervened. "It's been puzzling everyone at home, because they're not magical in that part of the world, and all our currently available diplomats are witches who don't want to put their powers on hold for a few years. But if you were our representative, the problem would just go away."

"Or you could marry me," suggested Brother Timothy. Flushed from the success of holidays at home, he'd just called by to pick up Petunia, who seemed to have flourished in the back room of the Strangers Bar. He hadn't been intending to pick up a wife as well as a goat, but, whatthehell ...

Skewered by several condemnatory gazes, he hurried to explain. "Surely I never said we were a celibate order! I mean, remember when Elrond and company dropped in, I ... "

Perhaps, he realised as the pool of silence deepened, proposing to one woman was not a good time to recall what had happened with others, even if they were Elves.

"Not that you have to marry anyone, of course," he stuttered. "I mean, you're so capable, so talented, so beauti ... I mean, I mean ... er, we can always use people of outstanding academic achievement at the University, I understand we're thinking of extending our IT R&D as our part of the Lavinium space program ... "

He subsided, abashed, into the Scrumpy that Neville had understandingly poured for him.

Hodgelett blushed bright red. She'd had proposals before, but never two and a half at once. And an offer of a job. She decided that would be easiest to deal with.
"I'm grateful for the sentiment Bast, and wish I could satisfy your need for that region but my heart is Randomean and that can never change." Turning to the others she blushed again, tried to open her mouth and finally managed "Well I haven't heard from my superiors yet about what they want from me, who knows they might let me remain as the UN rep, although with a certain high-flyer's son getting seen in all the right places I doubt that. I'll think I'll try to do some nation rallying on my own account, might get endorsed again, you never know." She ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks and started writing violently on her palmpilot.

Sam walked again through the bar door. Previous feelings of impending doom receded for a moment as he gazed familiarly at the trappings. The Strangers' Bar had been adapted, in his mind, as a sanctuary for Sam when things got hard on the floor--drowning the real world into a fantastic hallucinated world, through a Noah-sized flood of booze.

But Sam needed more than a sanctuary now.

A sealed envelope weighed heavily in the inside pocket of his tweed jacket. The cloud of impending doom returned. He need not open it to know its contents. He'd been there when Kile Sorvoje, his predecessor as UN representative, received his sealed envelope, emblazoned with a fiery and silver press of the Powerhungry Chipmunks's seal. They only used that seal for special occasions, such as a royal invitation or an official decree to the regency. Or a request for resignation.

"So, are we going to sit down?" a voice foreign to Sam's current kaleidoscope of despair queried behind him.

The voice belonged to Johan Arnaen, the Deputy Assistant of UN Foreign Relations, and Communications Director for Greater Foreign Relations. Johan's main duties in the Chipmunky representation were to organize telegram campaigns and provide a foil for Sam's oft-crusty disposition.

"Yeah, it's just...been a while." Sam said, not turning around to the red-headed 'boy' of thirty-nine. "We'll sit at the bar."

"Why was it you called me here, sir?" Johan innocently asked of the sixty-seven Sam. Regardless his uncertainties, however, he followed Sam to the stools at the bar. It wasn't until they both were seated that Sam even attempted to answer Johan.

"How long have you worked for the UN representation, son?" Sam wondered, turning his crow's feet towards Johan. His eyes slowly following their sockets.

"About seven years, why?"

"Do you know how long I've worked here?"

"Not exactly. I know you've been around since I started college." Johan still consternated at what Sam could possibly mean by bringing him here.

"And before that I was in your position before President Guns was first elected." Sam put his hand over the right chest of his jacket, feeling the weight of the envelope once more.

"Yes, sir. You've been at this a long time."

"Well...not anymore."

Johan altered his gaze, his eyes undecided between "full of concern" and "wide with alarm".

"What do you mean 'not anymore'?" he timidly asked. Putting his hands in his pockets and nervously taking them out again.

"I believe what's this envelope will end my career in UN representation." He pulled out the envelope. He stared at its blank white surface, faceless, and unapproachable.

He set it down on the bar between them, and leaned himself on it. His frame seemed weaker, as if he'd just been to a gym. Yet, somehow, he wasn't sure it was him that'd be doing the growing.

"I'm certain they'll have you take my place." Sam finally uttered.

Johan maintained his composure as much as possible. His expressions more of confusion than elation.

"Is this over that Demon-Lord-Enigma problem?" Johan quizzed. How could Sam be leaving, he thought, without him, the program's leaderless

"Somewhat. I think"

Johan was speechless.

"Come now m'boy, I'll buy you a drink, what'll ya have?" Sam cheered, slapping his presumed protégé on the back.

"I don't drink"

"You're going to be UN representative, right?" Sam asked

"If you say so, sir" Johan responded still without any emotion.

"Then you'll drink soon enough. Believe me, son. You'll drink."

Sam called for the bartender.

Just like to tell everyone in the UN, that there's a New Region Called the Rogue UN, i'm not in it.

Just thought the world should know, there apartently very Left wing. :mp5:

"Hogelett, you haven't heard for certain what is going to happen so don't borrow trouble."

As Neville placed a drink in front of Hodgelett, Alena motioned for another for herself. Taking a good look at Neville, Alena sighed. He was devastated. Alena had noticed Neville looking at Hodgelett when he thought he was unobserved and had thought he was infatuated with her. But clearly this was something more. Of course, the proposal from Brother Timothy surprised no one. He drools whenever Hodgelett enters the room, Alena thought. She was surprised at the slight bitterness behind that thought. She didn't begrudge Hodgelett the attention or the obvious affection; but it certainly highlighted the lack of it in her own life. Shaking her head at the maudlin turn her thoughts had taken, Alena returned her attention to the upset and highly flustered Hodgelett.

"You know... Zamundaland has become interested in opening relations with other countries, particularly since our region, Lavinium, is working among its member countries to develop a joint space program. After all - we have to find some way to pay for the damn thing... some new trade partners and perhaps some added tourism would be just the thing. Of course, we would request that all relations be handled through you. While we're not as big as some countries, my mother can be terribly persuasive when she so chooses. It wouldn't hurt your position to have a request made for your assistance in opening up said relations now would it... remind them of your value and all that..."

"I'm on my way to call home. Let's see what we can do, shall we?" Alena gathered her things and said a quick goodbye.

"Now, don't run off without saying goodbye, all right Hodgelett? As soon as you hear anything, let me know."

With that Alena walked toward the door and wondered as she glanced back who those two men were sitting at the bar. She was certain she had seen one of them before.

Is this the forum for new UN chatters?

Anybody got change for a Twenty, I need to buy myself 20 more rounds?

http://************/38utn
Heh.

Is this the forum for new UN chatters?


Wrong furum freind.

Yssandra Faren, Ennish Consul to the UN, entered the bar for the first time.

"So, this is where Stephanie spent so much time. And made so many alliances," she mused to herself. "Well, may as well stick around, see what I can do here."

She turned her attention to the barman, whom she had been told went by the name Neville.

"Neville, Ennish shandies for everyone. Long past time I got here, Stephanie was always waxing lyrical about this place."

Thank you. *holds up the shandie, looking at it* What exactly's in this?

the problem here is that you people just don't appreciate plumdanglia's multi-lingual (and multi-species) humor.

"Well, I for one, think plum is pretty funny. I wished I understood everything said, but I figure I will eventually decipher it.

"Neville, please bring me another drink."

Thank you. *holds up the shandie, looking at it* What exactly's in this?

"State secret. Sorry, can't tell you exactly what, only that it has been known to have... odd... effetcs on people not used to it. Extremely pleasurable effects, but nonetheless, rather odd. That said, we've never found anyone allergic to the drink, even though they may be allergic to one or more of the ingredients."

"Beware," Dicey smilingly warned The Yoopers' delegate. "The previous Ennish rep inveigled me into having one of those and now Ardchoille can't import the stuff fast enough to keep up with the demand."

She turned to the new representative. "You'll have to let me reverse the favour and see if I can persuade you that Enn should start importing our uisquebagh. Neville, if you'd be so kind?"

"And one for yourself, mate," she added as he provided the precious liquor. A Barlord to the core, he was bearing his heartbreak bravely and going about his duties as impeccably as usual, but Dicey didn't see why he shouldn't have a bit of purely medicinal assistance.

"Well," Yssandra began, "I'll certainly try this... uisquebagh. May as well have some fun while I'm here. Bloody Council's currently recalling all Ennish citizens at the moment, so I'll have a go now."

She sipped at it, gazed at it in astonishment, then downed the rest.

"That's delicious! I think we might have to negotiate some... trade, with your nation, as soon as the current trouble in Enn has calmed down."

*YGSM staggers in, flecks of blood on his suit*

Bartender!

*trips over Ardchoille, lands on the delegate from Yooper*

Bartender!

*crawls to a barstool, bleeds on it*

I think I've just been elected delegate from my region. A drink, for all my friends!

Just don't mention the region's name out loud, aight?

(completly wasted, and singing) "We are, hick, the champions, hick"!

"Hey bartender, another vodka!"

3 well-dressed men walk in, pull submachine guns rrom under their suit jackets, unleash a hail of lead at YGSM, and walk back out.

YGSM slides off his stool.

*muses* What a peculiar manisfestion of capatilism. I should leave my political coat at the door, I hear this place has the most varied beer menu on the planet.

"hello, all. Please do not mind me, I am new here. I have found my way here with rumours of revelry, free discussion and, well, that huge selection of beverages from all corners of our wonderful planet.

May I take a seat?"

*YGSM claws his way up the stool, body armor showing through the tears in his clothing*

*coughs blood onto the bar*

It's... it's only a flesh wound. I'll get better.

But there will be blood in the streets tonight!

I AM ETHAN ALMIGHTYNESSSS! BOW DOWN TO MEEEE! Oh hi. I'll have a beer. I AM THE RULER OF ETHAN ALMIGHTYNESSSS! I SHALL TAKE OVER THE WORLD!! maybe. :sniper: :mp5: :gundge:

I AM ETHAN ALMIGHTYNESSSS! BOW DOWN TO MEEEE!
What a waste of perfectly good pixels.

Well, that's better.

Waiter! Scotch and water, please. No ice.

Oh no. Bloodstains on my new pimpsuit? Even in death, these clodfalls are my nemesis!

i dont like my delegent as he or she is never on an doesnt vote in the UN debates i think he or she should be made to resign an i should take his or her place as im on every day to check my nation :)

(singing karyoke) "She Bangs, She Bangs, Oh Baby, She Moves"

anybody want to join me?

Double James Martin's for Stankystan delegate. He is tired of the talk going on Repeal of "Legalize Prostitution"...

...Thank you, bartender.
;)

Wunderlich, having recovered from a small nervous fit composed himself and turned back to Walther, "I can see you are a very passionate and devoted warrior and commend you on your greatness, and regarding your ruler may he become well and live forever."

Taking another sip of his tea he leaned back into his seat, "Also, it seems your empire has great arms that stretch through the Universe and I wonder if you've ever come in contact with a race I see as a mere step below God, they call themselves the Asgard."

The tall, albino figure of Ellion Kev nervously entered the bar at this point, shivering even in his long wool topcoat as he came in, flanked by a group of five Internal Security Agency bodyguards.

"Barkeep," the Ambassador pronounced, "if you've some vodka, soda, and grenadine, a poor delegate would like a Wonderland."

The bodyguards, meanwhile, merely stood about impassively.

*Raisha Valdumont, representative of Verillonia makes her way through the doors, laptop in hand. She looks around and gives a slight "hmph" before she makes her way to a table. Raisha takes a look at the menu, and flags a waiter over*

....i will take the trout almondine with asparagus spears drowned in butter. And to drink i think i will have a glass of iced tea please....

*Once the waiter leaves, Raisha places her laptop on the table and begins to do some work*

I received this telegram from the Mechanized Army of Mobile Suits:

"What you fail to realize is the arguement you used in the forum in your futile attempt (if thats what it can be called) to convert nations to your side, has been shot down numerous times.
I strongly suggest that next time you decide to state your oppinion, first check what others have stated, it will prevent you from looking like an unimformed idiot in the future.
Sincerely,
Xeron
Minister of Intel for Sonic Hero Land."

Mr. Xeron, please take a close look at the following words:
argument
that's
opinion
uninformed
Further, there is nothing that I am "failing to realize." I am aware of other nations' arguments for both sides of that issue. My two arguments for my position have been "shot down" by nobody, though they have perhaps encountered some tacit disagreements. Lastly, I have no need to be "prevented from looking like an uninformed idiot," but I do wish to prevent mean-spirited douche-bags from contacting me. Maybe you can help by keeping your clumsy thoughts to yourself.
Yours Times Infinity,
Brigadier General Jodo "Dozen" Donuts

Word Dude! the strangers bar thing sounds good. Peace out!!!!

Hey bartender! Buy me another Gin and Tonic!

*One delegete dressed in traditional tribal gear walks in after a hard day in the office*

Fire a pint over this way barkeep.

I'll have a scotch on the Rocks!

*the meal arrives for our lone representative, Raisha Valdumont, and she ushers the waiter to leave as she starts to nibble while punching away at her laptop, grumbling under her breath*

I told them to get a firm hold on the union workers...but did they listen to me? Non! that is why i am now here....the incompetence is staggering! if i had my way.....*she stops grumbling and continues to punch at the comp and nibble on her trout and asparagus*

Where is the bartender? If I see one more ridiculous resolution to ban yak shaving I am going to commit suicide. Is it just me or is the United Nations hell bent on seemingly implementing a morass of resolutions from day to day?My economy will never have a chance to recover at the rate resolutions are being passed and our nation is continually buried under taxes.

There, I vented, now can I have a bottle of Bourbon please?

Where is the bartender? If I see one more ridiculous resolution to ban yak shaving I am going to commit suicide. Is it just me or is the United Nations hell bent on seemingly implementing a morass of resolutions from day to day?My economy will never have a chance to recover at the rate resolutions are being passed and our nation is continually buried under taxes.

There, I vented, now can I have a bottle of Bourbon please?

Barkeep: No, I'm sorry but your nation's economy is so down in the dumps we do not accept a tab from you anymore. ;) j/k, here's the bottle, do you need a glass?

lol - there does seem to be a lot of silly proposals out there. One, I see, plans to maintain the rights of heterosexuals. *sigh* I think people just skim through the titles of previously passed resolutions, and then make up a new title for redundant issues.

Anyway, just found this little hole in the wall. Fabulous decorating though, :)

*sips vodka and coke*

Barkeep: No, I'm sorry but your nation's economy is so down in the dumps we do not accept a tab from you anymore. ;) j/k, here's the bottle, do you need a glass?

lol - there does seem to be a lot of silly proposals out there. One, I see, plans to maintain the rights of heterosexuals. *sigh* I think people just skim through the titles of previously passed resolutions, and then make up a new title for redundant issues.

Anyway, just found this little hole in the wall. Fabulous decorating though, :)

*sips vodka and coke*
Uh, aren't you the one who proposed equal rights for animals and farm vegetables, or something?


Red wine tonight, bartender!

Uh, aren't you the one who proposed equal rights for animals and farm vegetables, or something?

It's nice to see people reading entire proposals. I thought the clause protecting farm vegetables from being trampled, whether purposfully or accidentally, by creating a ten year sentance in a maxium security prision as a deterant went unnoticed, but I can't pass such a thing by your careful examination can I? ;)

Ugh, my sarcasim is getting the better of me. Off to bed.

Vegetable Rights and Peace!


*throws an olive at the hippy on her way out the door.*

Steps into the room after a long absence from the city.

"Everyone looks like the same crowd that is here all of the time." I muttered under my breath.

"Neville, please, a large Pelligrino and a sniffter of your finest brandy. It is a cold night out there and I need some warming."

He had been sitting there for some time now, but completely unnoticed. He was a short young man with brown hair who sat at the end of the bar. The day old UN member wondered if he would ever be noticed. He had lead a group of people away from the oppressive region of Willopia and had lead the nation of Kalhan to the newly established Bandopia.

I will speak now, for whoever in this bar will hear me. I am a man who believes that this world needs more music in its ears and hopes that the region of Bandopia can bring them just that. So, please, musicians of every kind, join Bandopia so we can establish a place where we can share ideas and bring music to this world.

Caliph Suleman ben Ghaziri al-Din steps in, shaking the last of the snow from his cobalt blue burnoose.

"Neville, please, a large Pelligrino and a pot of hot tea. It is a cold night out there and I need some warming."

He looks about, wondering why he has not come here before - the sound of the crowd moving about, talking and laughing, enriches the atmosphere.

"Perhaps later, there will be music?"

You want music, Caliph?

He reaches into the case below him, and pulls out a black acoustic guitar. Blake Moore walks to the dimly lit stage and rests on the stool in front of the microphone.

This melody goes out to the region of Bandopia. May the music it makes hold true to every nation that joins it.

He begins to play a very solemn but joyful tune. It rings though the bar.

Gratefully, Neville seizes the chance while the customers are distracted by the music to get all those Pellegrinos served up -- must get some more of that stuff in -- and stops long enough to draw breath, memorise the faces of this mob of newcomers and, incidentally, mourn his lost love.

But he mustn't let his attention wander. He is just in time to direct a quelling glance at Brother Timothy, who apparently thinks every musician should welcome an accompaniment on the Findhornian bagpipes. And at Dicey Reilly, who always demands that visitors perform Kevin Barry, despite the fights that particular ballad causes. And at Bast, whose singing is so admired by all the neighbourhood cats.

Still, even if the price of live music is eternal vigilance, there's no denying this guy is worth it. To his astonishment, Neville finds that even he is being drawn in by the performance.

*as the music encompasses the room, verillonias representative, Raisha, gets into the mood...drumming away at the keypad in time to the beat. her meal complete and her iced tea turning into more than what it was before, she shuts down her laptop to promote her alto soprano vioce in harmony with the tune*

now i think that maybe i should just stop thinking of moving up...instead i will stay where i am and enjoy it awhile....at least until i tire of it*

*her tea now mostly water, she hollers for something stronger*

Excuse me barkeep! bring me a russian qualude! if i get it blended, there is an extra 5 gremils in it for you!

A very tired Hodgelett made her way to the bar and sat down. Anyone who knew her could see she'd lost a little weight, there were a couple of creases across her forehead and the rings under her eyes weren't going to be fading quickly. Her normally immaculate attire had a few creases and the folder of notes was bent at the corner. She could hear music coming from a corner of the room but it was distant, it was coming and going to her ears. She signelled to Neville. "An Irish coffee please," she said with a lopsided smile.

:gundge: The Issue I present is one of HUMAN rights! WE INTEND TO SUPPORT THIS ISSUE!
LORD VTG

*YGSM crawls back in, blood spurting through the holes in his body armor*

"The POD... The POD..."

"Ow. Neville, a scotch and water, please. No ice."

With a resounding crash the door to the bar burst open, leaving it hanging lopsided on the remains of the hinges. A strong wind blew dust and debris into the bar and the bar was filled with the roar of the powerful engines of a thunderhawk gunship that had suddenly landed outside the bar. In the doorway stood a man almost as tall as Walther, clad in a similar armour as Walther. The man's armour did not look as intricate as Walther's and he had his helmet on. The man spoke, his voice augmented by his armours built in vox-casters.

"-Lord Brandl, the enemy has broken through our defences, your precence is required."

Walther got up and darted towards the door, and shouted over his shoulder.

"-I will be, back! Neville, I trust that you'll accept my offer to pay as soon as I get back."

Walther words were hardly audioble over the powerful roar of the thunderhawks engines.

Before exiting the bar Walther turned, drew his chainsword, lifted it high into the air and shouted "-Through the destruction of our enemies we earn our salvation! The Emperor protects!"

With these words Walther boarded the thunderhawk gunship wich lifted off the instant the boardingramp left the ground.

A few servitors entered the room and cleaned up the mess Walther left.

OOC: I don't have a internet connection at home as I have a new ISP, but Walther will be back as soon as I got a connection to the internet again. The Emperor protects.

Suddenly a young man bursts in and cries out help.
He then mutters that he was assaulted by several men from the nation of hellsvill. He goes on to tell youu about how they have been abusing his people and how they need hel. He then turns over and dies.


:(

The nation of forkilania needs your help. if you do nothing we will all be killed by the army of hellsvill, the have poisioned our people, please help us! :eek:

Alena walks into the Stranger's Bar and takes a look around. Ignoring the singers and the dead body on the floor, she heads toward Hodgelett, stopping just long enough to give Bast a good scratch behind the ears. "Hey there, cutie."

She continues toward Hodgelett, calling out an order of scotch and water to Neville. As she nears Hodgelett, Alena can see she is a bit the worse for wear.

"Hodgelett, I had hoped I'd run into you. What's going on, hon? What's happened?"

Brilliant Idea.


*wanders in wearing a dark business suit and strides to the bar raising a finger politely. He leaves a couple coins at the bar after receiving a glass of light beer, and heads to a secluded alcove to sit*

*watches the events unfolding from the alcove with intrigue as he sips at his beer*

Hodgelett brushed her hair back from her face with her hand as she lifted her head from contemplating her glass mug. "Alena, how nice to see you." She took her handbag and folder off the seat next to her.
"What's been up with me? Oh just work. With the severe downsizing of our region recently it's been in and out of meetings all the time. The Queen is wondering if we should move as being a pascifist country surrounded by some pretty powerful States we were safe from threat. Alone is another matter, we're now the biggest country in the region and we're under great risk of attack. This has almost hidden the delegate issue, but everyone knows these are the times of cabinet and administration shake-ups. Everyone's in someone's pocket and the meetings stretch long into the night.
I've chosen my pocket, and he's assured me that as long as he's where he is I'm the UN representative. Mr.High-flyer has been given the unenviable task of casting an eye out for a new region. If he wins he can have anything he chooses...."
Hodgelett stopped to take a sip from her cooling Irish coffee. "sorry I can get rather talkative when I'm tired and last night's meeting was pretty much all night. But the good news is I'm still here for the moment. And how does the world fare to you?"

A young man walks in through the busted down doors. He is of medium height and on the rather too thin side with a olive green jacket decorated with medals, tan pants, and shining black shoes. A tag on the left pocket of his jacket says "Conner." He takes a seat at the bar, removes a cigar from his pocket and looks towards the barkeep. "Please a vodka on the rocks please. A smoke allowed in here my good man?" He raises his eyebrow in question. He then glances around the room that appears as if he will be spending a great deal of time in in the future. He frowns slightly at the scene and then shrugs slightly before turning back to the bartender.

"Oh - you know how it goes. But essentially, I'm fine. Other than assuring you of a place in our region, I sure wish there was something I could do." Alena lowered her voice considerably "Of course, Neville probably wouldn't like your moving to our region as that would place you perhaps a bit too close to Brother Timothy for his comfort." Giggling, Alena took a sip of the drink Neville had placed in front of her.

The man in the alcove brushes back his thick dark hair, perspiration beading across his forehead. From his suit pocket he pulls out a mobile device and glances at it, tapping at the monitor.
The man sits back, watching the monitor as it beeps idly. His dark brown eyes compliment his long dark eyelashes. He is a man of about 25, unusually young as far as world leaders go.
The man sighs and flips the device closed before he slips it back in his suit pocket and continues to sip at his beer, wondering at the doorway and the bodies on the floor.

*as raisha valdumont takes a breathe(and a drink) from singing with the others, she hears her lap top beeping in urgency. flipping it up she reads the message and swears in verillonias native language and slams the lap top shut, grabbing it and making a bee line for the door.*

A tall, bald, bearded fellow walks into the bar and requests, "Alien Urine Sample please" and drops a BAR TAB on the bar, "also a vodka for the bar".

:sniper: "Who crashed that chopper out front? It almost scratched my new paintjob."