NationStates Jolt Archive

As Wunderlich sat a small beeping noise rang through the air. The noise was being admitted from his pocket. He reached into it and pulled out a small cell phone. "Yes, oh very well." he said, a little alarmed. He stood up excused himself and left.

Almost simultainiously Lord Byrons' Pager started to go off. Damnit! he thought, Matters of the Admiralty to attend to. He bid his fellow card Players good day and stepping over the unconcious body of Iron Pig, Left the Bar. Rain was falling as he hailed a taxi. He jumped inside.
"where To brother? " asked the driver.
The Airport please.

"I've got a Bingo!" shouted BFFG, oblivious to the flurry of activity around him.

After realizing the two gentleman had left, he noticed all the money on the table they had absentmindedly left. "Tell you what," he said to Enn. "Let's just split the pot and we can go back to getting smashed, shall we?"

Singing very off key "She Bangs, She Bangs, Oh Baby, She Moves, She Moves"!

Hodgelett woke up with a headache and a blanket. "What the?" She spied her new secretary still awake even though most of even the regulars had tottered off to bed...or work, not that was much different to most of them. "Must have nodded off...."
"Indeed, at 11:47pm" announced T'Clic.
'Oh jeez, got myself a compulsive obsessive,' she thought. 'Still, if it means the files get sorted and I actually find time to look at some other proposals. And he certainly isn't inattentive....' She thought, believing the blanket was due to him. Her attention drifted away and she noticed Neville leaning on the bar in conversation with a woman...she looked familiar but she couldn't place it. She caught something about a man sprouting wings...She grinned as she remembered that fateful day was the one she first entered the bar, when she'd met such colourful characters as Walther in his ever practical armour and Brother Tim with his collection of unusual boxers. 'I didn't even wonder at an unconscious gentleman with burned wings lying in shock on the floor, jumped right in and started bossing people around.' She felt sad as she recalled the changes to Walther and the fact that she probably didn't have that youthly enthusiasm anymore. 'Maybe I'm getting tired of this job...or just cynical. Maybe I should home...' but the blanket was warn and the chair comfy so she drifted off again.

Still doing Kyryoke, got any request?

How does one go about getting endorsements?

*Cough, cough* well now that wasnt very nice was it? I dont remember a genocide, but im getting used to it every person i have inadvertantly met has been disgusted by me ever since the accident.Why do you think i wear a trench coat...He picked up the glass that had miraculously landed right side up. ginger beer...there is ginger and there is beer... i guess ill have a shot. he downs the glass in one gulp. Well... its not bad. Bar keep gimme one more shot. *He downs the shot then starts to pace around the bar*well...maybe i could get used to this...maybe the world needs corruption. Well at least the genetic engeneering project is going well...he muttered to himself. That byron what a fellow. Never seen him, at least i dont think so. Well he will get his i dont take that kind of thing laying down. the man in the trench coatwalked back to the place of the incident picked up the change and handed it to the bar keep, replaced his stool and sat down. The man sat there for a while thinking to himself. Then he took a stroll down to byron. "Would you like to see my face byron, would you like to see what i hide beneath this coat. Well im going to show you. Then see if this man could do you or anyone else wrong!!! He ripped off the trench coat and revealed himself. Bandages covered his body from his head down to his pants only a small slit for his eyes and ears revealed part of his black charred skin. Is this the man who has done you wrong?!?!?! Having revealed himself he quietly retuned to his stool with his trenchcoat lying on the floor.

Dose any of the leaders hear surport a maned space program?

lord Byron awoke with a hang over worse than Black monday was to an economist! he thought back to last night! had it happened? it was blurry. the result other than a sore head and fist, was a lack of funds when he went to pay his hotel bill at the airport. while in the taxi he had recieved a second page cancelling the first!
He had produced his visa card and had paid for his room. The rain that had been falling hard had been substituted with bright warm sunlight and it made his head hurt more. Then it dawned on him! oh crap he thought as he recalled that he had hit someone. But it wasnt that. He realised he had beem mistaken and it was iron blood and not iron pig who was involved in the genocide. The drink and the horror of the last assignment had made him see some one else. He walked back to the bar the scene of his infringment on an innocent member. As he walked in he was delighted and embarrassed to see the trenchcoated man, now without the coat sitting peacefully at the bar. Byron strolled up to the man and sat beside him. "Forgive me my aggression toward you last night, it was un called for and unjust. " He proceded to order two drinks, and turning to Iron Pig, he started to explain the mix up.
If there can be anything I can do to make up for thumping you out, name it? Byron asked the man sincerly. the Iron Pig looked shocked as if he never expected that or to even see Byron again.

Head-to-toe bandages. Stuff-ups over genocides and mistaken identities.

"Well," Stephanie mentioned to Neville. "I guess this is just another case of 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'."

*looks at Lord bryon*

I'll have what he's having.

There isnt really anything to be done for me. I hold no grudges. Thank you for the drink though. *Starts into a fit of coughing*. Well i cant go back home yet im still on vacation. Ill probably just stay here for a while does this place rent out rooms?

I shall hear none of it my friend! boomed Lord Byrons powerfull voice, You shall stay for the remainder of your holiday as a Guest of the Realm in our Plush ambassadorial accomodations. But for now let us drink to be merry and let the Merriment wash away any memories of the recent nasty past.

"Barkeep! Drinks For every one in the Bar. Today is Hail Fellow! Well Met day in this fine drinkery, and let us celebrate our differences and respect our traditions!"

lord Byron whipped out a tin whistle and began playing a lively Irish Jig......

Can you sing folk tales Lord Byron?

Well that is very generous of you byron to say the least. But to tell you the truth I pefer the digerydoo to irish jigs and folk songs. Unfortunatly I left mine at home so I lack the means to play you a good song but I can lend some vocal talent.*sings some low notes and laughs* and while im here* takes the drink and downs it* Ill have another.

*An undisclosed figure slinks through the bar doors and takes a shadowy movement towards a stool furthest from the merriment. It waves its hand towards the bar owner and asks a simple question.* How much for a shot of whiskey?

Walks in singing and dancing...

It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing! Doo-wot-doo-wot-doo-wot-doo-wot-doo-wot-doo-wot....

Heads to the bar...

Hmmm... I should probably stick with water tonight. My head still hurts a bit from all those Pina colodas last night...

thinks...

Nah... the hell with that. One Pina Coloda please!

OOC: hmmm... exciting place. I give up. Adios to all the people who aren't in the room.

Can you sing folk tales Lord Byron?


Indeed i can my friend! The room hushes, Byron drinks deep from the glass of merriment he holds, suddenly he begins.

" when my love, said to me, meet me down , by the gallows tree.
For tis sad news i hi bring, bout this old town and all of it's Sufferin,
some say troubles are Bound, some day soon their gonna tear the old town down.............
ONE DAY WE'LL RETURN HERE..... when the Belfast child, sings again!"

He leads in to an instrumental with his tin whistle and sings his heart out and when he finishes theres not a dry eye in the House. He looks around him and Smiles.

Whos For More Jar????? the Place erupted the Barman flung into action and was glad he hired the new waitress. Byron put his arm around the Bandaged wreck of a man that was Iron Pig.

"You Know My friend ...... Youre all Right!" he said, And then fell on his arse!

Iron Pig took his trench coat and covered the now boozed up to sleepy Byron, and the party continued while Byron slept.

Beaming to see such a good session developing, Neville was everywhere with drinks, munchies, towels, ice, paracetamol, reference books and the occasional quickly-made appointment at the nearby after-hours doctors' clinic. He regretted the absence of many regulars who would have enjoyed the ceilidh, but was indeed grateful for the efficiency of the new waitress.

True, he didn't seem to remember interviewing applicants or hiring this particular one, but that's how things went in the Strangers' Bar. If enough customers believed she was there, then, obviously, there she was. When things slowed down a bit, he'd have to find out her name. She didn't look like an Edith, she didn't look like a Gladys ... he'd have to listen to what the customers called her.

Interesting uniform she'd chosen, though. Himself, he wouldn't have thought fish-net stockings the ideal workwear -- quite painful when you kneel down to mop up spills -- and the frilly apron, though cute, wasn't exactly big enough to be practical ... but she was clearly very kind. Look how she'd found a blanket for Hodgelett's new secretary to tuck round his sleeping boss.

Speaking of sleeping, hadn't someone been asking if there were rooms above? Actually, Neville didn't know; he hadn't been upstairs yet. "There often are," seemed to be the best answer. He hoped today wasn't the day the funfair was there instead. Or the circus. If it was the nomads' encampment there'd probably be a bed of sorts in one of the yurts. You just had to take your chances.

In a quiet corner, Michel Duval nursed a glass of wine and wondered if Lydia Cornwall was OK...

The fat man strolled into the bar. "Hi, everybody!" he shouted merrily. "What's this? Free drinks? Don't mind if I do!" Strolling to the bar, he snagged a tray full of frosty mugs filled with beer and sat down at an empty table to spend some alone time with his new friends.

He partied a little too hard. Some people cant handle that much alcohol. Me on the other hand Im verteran*Laughs hartily*. Well bartender if my newfound friend doesnt wake up soon I will need a room or i could just sleep here. *He carries lord byron to a chair then pulls up a stool right by him, taking another shot*. Ok well thats the last drink im having staring to halucinate I thought I saw a gorrila just belly up to the bar...oh wait...never mind I think I will have some more.

Indeed i can my friend! The room hushes, Byron drinks deep from the glass of merriment he holds, suddenly he begins.

" when my love, said to me, meet me down , by the gallows tree.
For tis sad news i hi bring, bout this old town and all of it's Sufferin,
some say troubles are Bound, some day soon their gonna tear the old town down.............
ONE DAY WE'LL RETURN HERE..... when the Belfast child, sings again!"

He leads in to an instrumental with his tin whistle and sings his heart out and when he finishes theres not a dry eye in the House. He looks around him and Smiles.

Whos For More Jar????? the Place erupted the Barman flung into action and was glad he hired the new waitress. Byron put his arm around the Bandaged wreck of a man that was Iron Pig.

"You Know My friend ...... Youre all Right!" he said, And then fell on his arse!

Iron Pig took his trench coat and covered the now boozed up to sleepy Byron, and the party continued while Byron slept.

Play some more, the people of Cybertoria are huge fans!

Extracting himself diplomatically from the rambunctious crowd, Neville found a particularly special vintage from one of Ecopoeia's boutique vintners and slipped discreetly across the room to give his personal attention to an old and valued customer.

"A taste of home," he said, and waited while M. Duval savoured the bouquet.

"You seem a little distrait," he offered, after an appropriate interval for appreciation.

There was no spoken reply, but two pairs of eyes strayed to the back of the bar, where a row of silver tankards hung -- one, second from the end, looking particularly shiny and untouched.

"She hasn't touched it since December," Neville said, low-voiced. "She was in just before Christmas, and things were going well enough. And later I heard through the grapevine -- the Findhorn grapevine," he enlarged, smiling, "--that a lot was going on back in Lavinium early this year. Sub rosa, and all that; you know how it is. I'm sure we'd have heard if anything had happened," he added, bracingly. "You know these distant regions do have communication problems sometimes. Just one cable drops out and a whole country's incommunicado."

Byron Woke, He felt a chill known only to those who fall asleep on a couch for a night. He rubbed his arms to heat them up and got up and walked to the bar. He sat down and reflected on the fun that he had had earlier before passing out. There hasnt been a session like that since he was appointed by the King as the First lord of the Admiralty, the responsibility was too great to be tanked up. However he was on two weeks leave and was adamant that he would enjoy it. however he saw fit. Byron summoned the barman and ordered a pint of water, to refresh his now parched throat and a coffee with some food. Iron Pig Joined him and the two gentlemen ate well. Byron could not get over how Iron pig was still standing and wondered if he had slept. the Alchohol he had consumed was enough to kill an elephant, yet there he was fresh as a daisy.
"regarding these bandages my friend, There is a nation in my realm that is advanced in the field of reconstructive Plastic surgery. They specialise with Burn victims and can regrow a persons skin and even damaged muscle. How come you are bandaged up. I can contact the leader of this nation on your behalf!?"

There was quiet, No reply, an answer was coming but it seemed an eternity before Iron pig spoke..........

No matter how advanced your plastic surgery is I do not think it will come close to what I need. But yes I did sleep...just not very long. Also for a man with a hang over you too seem very chipper. These bandages have a long painful history I would rather not bring them up..although I know its hard not to.*ask the barkeep if its too early to buy alcohol as he sit looking around at the various faces still in the bar* When they say early morning crowd they mean really early.

hello fellow UN members, i've been working all day and just can't take another moment, i think i'll just sit here and enjoy your company if you don't mind.

*politely asks bartender for a strawberry daquari*

i'm sure the emporer will be along shortly, he is currently discussing the addition of a soccer field to our grounds...boys and they're games i tell you boys and they're games... says empiress cheree as she sips her drink and looks around.

*comes in, sits down, and has a drink* :) Oh! Hello UN members. Don't mind me. I am just looking for another forum to post at and am bored.

Comes in and sits down near the Bar "Bartender, i'll take a Miami Cocktail with a little umbrella in it,"

*gazes across the room* any up for a round of pool?? i'm trying to work on my game, is there anyone here skilled enough to teach me?

*requests a comopolitan from the bartender with a wink and a smile :fluffle:

Delighted, Neville fussily produces drinks with paper parasols, drinks with plastic mermaids, monkeys and giraffes, drinks with long silver spoons, drinks with chunks of watermelon, rockmelon, pineapple and peach, drinks adorned with slices of orange, multi-coloured sprinkles, cream, ice-cream, jelly-beans and overflowing bubbles.

He dispenses them on silver trays, on fiddly little paper-lace mats, in huge glass jugs and in extremely twee glasses that have mermaids and dolphins as stems. Some even have sugar-encrusted rims.

It's his way of relaxing.

In gratitude to the newcomers for inspiring such a moment, he makes sure they realise that all their drinks for this session are free. Liberated Feminists and Dejicheree, who have chosen to exercise their precious first post in the hallowed confines of the Bar, naturally drink free for the first week -- and why not Nvzechsonakia, with only two, as well -- oh, what the hell, can't leave out Shinohora ...

(Nonetheless, Neville hopes that they are not heavy drinkers.) Now, about that round of pool ... alas, neither the Ennish delegate nor Sir Albert are around. But the Bar is never short of talent. Neville awaits events.

Who let all the fruits into the bar? Straberry daquri? A cosmopolitan? You guys must be from out of town. All I can see are stupid plastic things in brightly colored drinks. Its hurting my eyes, Bartender give me a couple shots of good old fashioned wiskey and no I dont want a little drink umbrella!!!!

Takes the drink and allows himself to unwind. Days of debating with the Education Department and Military Department had got to him. He decides to wash it away in drink and quickly gulps down his cocktail before taking another.

Hey bartender a round of wiskey for everybody on me!

Lord Dairl, the Ambassador (and Duke) of Somniverus stepped into the bar. He'd had his first UN action, and he had a long day. At times, he'd privately cursed his elder sister for choosing him. But he was the one who suggested joining the United Nations, and she'd chosen him with that little smile she had that had the same effect as laughing and saying, 'what did you expect?'

He was a young man, early twenties at the most, but with a grim expression.

He raised a finger and exclaimed, "I need a beer!"

Who let all the fruits into the bar? Straberry daquri? A cosmopolitan? You guys must be from out of town. All I can see are stupid plastic things in brightly colored drinks. Its hurting my eyes, Bartender give me a couple shots of good old fashioned wiskey and no I dont want a little drink umbrella!!!!


"Forgive my ineloquent friend for his lack of tolerence," Lord Byron announced as he and iron pig sat and joined the new occupants now filling the bar. " hes been here so long he forgets we are all from out of town!" said Byron laughing off his friends comment. He stood up and started to tap loudly on his glass of merryment until a hush appeared from the noise.

"A Toast my friends and colleagues of the UN Singles Bar. To People of diversity, for it is diversity that makes us interesting"

He raised his glass and swallowed the contents in one refreshing gulp and summoned the waitress, whom he was begining to feel something for, to refill his glass.

The bar is silent as the Prince from The Pricipalities of Sir Boots enters with a tired, hungover face. It is actually Boots himself, the staff and occupants can't quite comprehend it as he marches over to the bar demanding ..... A pint of vodka !
What is going on here, he actually wants a pint glass filled with vodka !!
He throws his 100 lt (left tit) note at the bartender puts is head on the bar and promptly falls unconsious.
It's been a strange day today so everyone goes back to what they were previously at and decide to leave the Prince to drool contently on his beer mat.

WHY?!?!?! THE INHUMANITY!!!!! I DONT APOLOGIZE! MORE BOOZE!!! MORE BOOZE!!! DRINKS FOR ALL THE FRUITS!!!! :mad: :fluffle: :eek:

After being momentarily distracted by what Dairl would refer to as 'Now that's what I call drinking' with vodka, he gathers his wits and snaps his fingers above his head and calls, "Oi! Beer!"

Stephanie suddenly realised that she had been standing stock still for the better part of three days without doing or saying the slightest thing. How odd. Even more odd, she now somehow knew that there was something... different... about the Bar. Then she got it.
"My god, the Bar's been unStickyfied!"

Having said this, she decided to leave to observe the consequences from a safe location.

Evelyn Bennet walks into the bar and looks around. She is greeted by the sight of empty tables, chairs and barstools. As she glances about the deserted room, she feels the undeniable aire of a ghost-town...or rather...ghost-bar.

Hello? Hello...

Hearing no response but the wind through a nearby window. She shrugs her shoulders, and walks out of the bar, singing:

I'm all alone... There's noone there...beside me!

Dairl raises his eyebrows.

"Weird girl," he mutters.

Arianna walks into the bar still a little hesitant. Her very first Ambassodorship and the Region sends her off to the United nations of all places. She looks around her wings fluttering slightly in nervousness trying to take everything in. Her orders had told her that this was a good place to become involved within the UN though how her superiors had learned this as she was the first ever Ambassodor to venture here from Equilism she was uncertain.

After standying in the doorway looking around a moment she moved gracefully into the room and approached the bar.

OOC:
OK...so I was bored. So sue me! :)

Dairl looks at the girl who just entered.

"Nervous?" he asks. Without waiting for a reply, he continues. "I was to. But that's what bars are for." He smiles widely and pauses for a moment.

"I'm not drunk yet, but I plan to be."

OOC: No suing is needed. Boredom is completely understandable.

BFFG made his way up to the bar. Taking a seat on one of the stools, he said, "Gimme a bottle 'a brandy and a shot glass." Taking them from the bartender, he ignored the shot glass and started drinking directly from the bottle. After a half a minute of solid guzzling, he slammed the empty bottle back down on the bar. With that finished, he passed out, falling off his stool and flat on his back.

Neville is all of a tizz. His communications to both Telidia and Zamundaland keep coming back marked, "No longer exists at this address". He needs to take time out to mourn, but this rush of newcomers means he must concentrate, instead, on learning new names and faces.

One again he is grateful to the new waitress, whose expertise is taking up so much of the slack. Her name, he has learnt from her employee information sheet, is Violet. Actually, she signs it Square Bracket Lower Case Bold Face 10-point violet Close Square Bracket, but Neville doesn't believe that any parents, even the most negligent, would lumber a child with that. He informs the staff computer that she is to be known as Violet Bracket.

The staff computer spits at him the news that the servers are down again. Sigh. Neville had wanted to send out flyers to all the regulars -- "Unstickied But Unbowed!" had a nice ring to it -- but he will have to postpone that.

He moves instead to dust the Ennish delegate, who has been sitting there transfixed for the past three days. But she has risen and gone forth. Jolly good, Neville congratulates himself; another success for the famous restorative powers of the Strangers' Bar.

Violet, sweet Violet, Sweet Violet Bracket. Lord Byron was the first to set eyes on the girl and being an upper class type presumed she was staff. well it was after all how she was dressed and she had taken his orders with no comment, other than a pretty smile on such a pretty face. His feelings for her had softened over the last few days, He longed for their every interlude, the smell of her long curly black hair as she placed his drink on the table and the delecate smile on her full and beautiful lips. He Knew it was impossible, He Knew she was after all a commoner and he was the heir to the Principality of the Templar Crusaders, and first lord of the Admiralty of the Realm of Hibernia, a position which put him firmly third in line to replace King James, King of the Venerable Libertarians and Benevolent Overlord of the Realm. Byron looked to her longingly, dreaming the day dream would come true knowing it couldnt and realising that he would end up with someone like Stephanie, Narcoleptic and possibly dull although Beautiful.
The Second Most Powerful man in the Realm was suddenly, Feeling Powerless.

*Adaine walks into the into the Strangers Bar in his usual black attire, The ambassador for the nomadic peoples of Avarhierrim (yes i will be sleeping in the yurts) walks over to the bar sits down and orders a alcholic drink. sneers at neville the opsessive compolsive.*

Neville supplies the requested alcoholic drink. He doesn't get mad.

He just ups the price.

"THAT MUCH FOR A BOTTLE OF OL' JANX SPIRIT?!?! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM???"

*the emminete ambassador of the nomadic peoples of Avarhierrim was furiousli pissed off and gave himself a mental to get hodgenett Poisoned to spite neville.*

The door to the bar opened, and in walked Darrick Gran, the Nargopian UN Delegate from Bowdigity.

"Greetings again," he said to Neville, walking forward for a handshake. Darrick frowned when he saw a man wearing all black sitting down where Darrick himself normally sat. Taking a seat two stools down, Darrick sized the dark man up. The man seemed thoroughly angry at Neville for some reason. Remembering the events with Walther Brandl during his last visit, Darrick cracked his knuckles quietly, lest his dexterity with the Pulse Sword strapped to his back be tested.

"Good day," he said to Adaine. "My name is..."

All of a sudden a voice screamed inside Darrick's head, warning him not to give the man his real name. Darrick flinched visibly.

"Um, Gregor. Gregor Smith. I'm from Slyz..um..Slyzosovakia...stan," Darrick said, shooting a quick look to Neville to ensure that the bartender understood. "Yes, Slyzosovakiastan. Are you new to this bar? I haven't seen you before."

Edward Jones glanced up momentarily as the Nargopian ambassador entered. He wondered idly where the man had been during the last few weeks. The National Sovereignty Coalition had been missing a Nargopian presence for some time now. Ah, well. Edward shrugged his shoulders softly, scanning once again today's UN debate agenda and once again found nothing that he cared to involve himself in.

Sir Boots rises from his unconsious state feeling refreshed.
He realises he hasn't slept so well since his unfortunate incident with the evil Dictator Dan Ding, after which he was left with only 4 toes on his right foot but thankfully the blood loss soon caused unconsiousness and the 14 hours of unbelievable pain soon passed.

"Eh hem. Hello there....yes you, Bar keep. A pint of Vodka for myself and please refrain from your urges to stick those incesent umbrella in my libation. Thank you."

The Prince cocks his head back and scans the room for someone brave enough to challenge him to a game but alass he doubts the talents of this refined establishment and returns his concentration to his pint of liquid refreshment.

"THAT MUCH FOR A BOTTLE OF OL' JANX SPIRIT?!?! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM???"

*the emminete ambassador and spy of the nomadic peoples of Avarhierrim was furiousli pissed off and gave himself a mental to get hodgenett Poisoned to spite neville.*

Big Friendly Fat Guy, the all-around nice guy representing Fatus Maximus, approached the table where the eminent ambassador and spy of the nomadic peoples of Avarhierrim was sitting. Sensing a confrontation was about to develop between him and this Gregor Smith guy, he decided to difuse the situation the best way he knew how. "Hey, man, I couldn't help but overhear your comments regarding the pricing of that Ol' Janx Spirit here. Tell you what, why don't you finish your drink, and I'll buy you a Pan Galactic Garbleblaster? I'll be happy to help you to the nearest rehabilitation center when you're done." :)

A Pan Galatic Gargleblaster !
That sounds like the kinda drink I'd be on for.
Burns through metal but I think I could handle it.

"Bar keep, A pint each of that good stuff sounds like a challenge to me.
First to die, loses !! The the drinking commence."

"You're on!" replyed BFFG, slipping the analgesics out of his pocket.

It was finally about to happen: the move. Hodgelett's superiors had been in uproar, not to mention the packing of 50yrs worth of files in each of the offices. Shirking her duties, or delegating them to her enthusiastic secretary, Hodgelett sneaked into the bar for a break.
To her surprise it was filled with cocktail sipping customers. She walked up to the bar, took a stool between a black-clothed chap and the ol' Nargopian delegate, Derek, who was watching that guy from Fatus Max down something awfully strong smelling. "Hey Del, how's it going?" Not waiting for him to respond she quipped at the seemingly ever present barlord, "Neville, you been offerring happy hour on the cocktails or something, unless the clientele has got too feminine!"
She caught sight of the new waitress. "Apparently the staff has too...can you even call what she's wearing 'clothes'? Anyway, Malibu & Pineapple for me, if I can't be in the tropics at least I can taste them."

"I have a drink and i dont want to drink with you fatty, your and get stupidli drunk with the other morons."

*Adaine watches out of the corner of his eye the man who wouldnt give his name (the list of every delegte in the UN was in his head no geregor smith), was he the one Adaine had been sent to kill?*

Fortunately the fat man was too drunk to notice the Avarhierrimian ambassador's rude remarks and was concentrating on willing his hand to pick up another shot glass so he could down it. Easier said than done. The Pan Galactic Garbleblaster had already fried most of the nerves left from the last time he had had one.

Whistling on his way to work, Neville passes through the storied halls of the UN building and notes with no small satisfaction the discreet new sign that reads, "This Way To The Strangers' Bar".

Although it seems unlikely that such eminent people would ever deign to let their hair down among the hoi polloi, he resolves that Frisbeeteria and The Most Glorious Hack will be given the Freedom of the Bar, should they ever enter it.

Although ... don't all the Moderators (he bows his head reverently at the very thought of the word) already have that right? Well, perhaps something extra special can be arranged.

Meanwhile, he can at least see that the efforts of the valiant delegate from Nargopia are recognised.

But isn't something going on there, too? Why else would the dapper Mr Gran seek to remain incognito?

Ah, mysteries, challenges ... invigorated, Neville, like the Biblical warhorse (King James version), smelleth the battle afar and sayeth, "Ha, ha!"

Nevertheless, he is disconcerted to see as he swings through the doors that the Unsuitable Behaviour monitor is glowing yellow.

Well, at least it's not on red yet. But surely none of these nice people would be harbouring ... unfortunate ... intentions?

*Adaine sings the Doom song (from Invader Zim) doom, doom-doom, doom, doom-doom in boredoom*

"I apologize, sir, I must have missed your answer," Darrick said to the black-clothed man. "What is your name again?"

Ordering a strong whiskey (for courage, he thought to himself), Darrick continued to keep a close eye on the man.

Meanwhile, he wondered where that voice in his head had come from. Darrick had never before felt such a strong... premonition? Was that really what that was? Darrick's thoughts wandered momentarily to his grandfather, who, one day while drunk, had let on that Darrick was not of Nargopian birth. In fact, his grandfather was almost entirely certain that Darrick was at least 1/8 Trusktorian, a now dead nation known for the psychic ability of its citizens.

Could that be what this is? Darrick thought to himself.

A movement from the man next to him jerked his attention back to the situation at hand. Darrick was relieved, however, when he saw that the man was merely scratching his elbow. Still, he decided to keep a close eye on him. Something in the back of his mind, a gentle nudging, seemed to recommend that he keep a close eye on Hodgelett as well.

"Adaine Hadmon, and i'm the delagte for avarhierrim, my country projects a peace-lovin nation but in reality we never get involed in wars, we just bet on them. we provide money and weapons to whoever we think will win, sometimes they do win and sometimes they don't. trusktoria was a nation that got invaded, we gave assitance to them and they lost. we had to assasinate all the people invloed in our deals so the other side didnt attack us. it cost us alot of money.'

*Adaine decided that this man was much more intrestin than poisonin the girl. besides this was what he was here for, pickin up information.

Downing his whiskey, Darrick wondered to himself why the man had mentioned Trusktoria. Darrick had never mentioned the nation out loud. Was it merely coincidence?

Also, why was the man being so forthcoming with information that could very likely lead to his nation being attacked? Not from Slyzosovakiastan, of course... such a nation didn't exist.

If this Adaine only knew where I really come from, Darrick laughed inside, it is highly unlikely that he would be so honest about his nation's military sins.

Thinking back to his nation's history, a realization began to unfold in Darrick's mind. Trusktoria was a nation that had mysteriously allied itself with the Socialist Rebels in the Time of Old Nargopia during the revolution. The rebels had never fully understood why the Trusktorians had allied with them, but had accepted the assistance. Fascist Nargopia spent most of its resources obliterating the hated Trusktorians, leaving them open to a successful revolution. Today's Nargopians viewed those Trusktorians as martyrs, but...

If I'm making these connections accurately, then the Trusktorians were mercenaries, not martyrs, Darrick thought.

Whatever the case, Darrick realized that it was imperative (no psychic assistance required) to keep up the front of Gregor Smith. For the safety of his nation, he must not let this man, this possible spy, have any information regarding the Moderately Socialist Utopia of Nargopia.

"So," he said to the man. "What nations do you bet against? This sounds like an interesting business arena. Perhaps Slyzosovakiastan would like to get involved."

Ordering a large black coffee for alertness, Darrick continued to inspect the man's every move, and took care to give every word the upmost attention.

"Slyzosovakiastan has a war going on? against who? Who's the stronger army?'

*Adaine eyes light up. this would intrest his people. the idea of betting on other countries wasn't seen as a sin, because the Avarierians didnt see people from other nations as people, more like animals. Avarhierrim had a massive network of spies, assasins and thiefs.*

Stephanie entered the Bar.
She always made sure to observe the myriad goings-on of the Bar when she entered it. At the moment, the only real action was between a man all dressed in black, conversing with the man she recognised from the UN floor as the Nargopian representative.
She ordered an Ennish shandy, and sidled closer to listen in.

*Adaine ordered a whisky and eavesdropped on the other conversations. 'the man in black' was said often. he smirked*

"Slyzosovakiastan isn't currently involved in any war," Darrick replied. "However, for the right supply of weaponry, I'm certain that we could draft up a declaration against someone else. We haven't annexed any new land in a while, and the President has said that we need more elbow room."

Seeing the confused look on Stephanie's face when he referred to Slyzosovakiastan as his home, Darrick nodded his reassurance to her as he stated, "If Gregor Smith tells Slyzosovakiastan that a war is to be fought, they will listen. Now, who are some of your betting partners in this financial game you're running here? Who runs the books, who heads the whole operation?"

That's it, Darrick thought to himself, gather information. Don't be overly hasty, just gather information.

The great and benevolent Sir Boots arises from his resting place under a billard table to find he does not remember what happened to him the last few days.
Slowly the realisation that he is in a bar occurs to him and some vague memory of a brightly coloured steaming drink remind the prince that he has spent some time in this common area without actually fulfilling his mission.

As the graceful Prince contemplates his next move the obtrusive table decides it want to headbutt the Prince and he instantly returns to his resting place.

As he returns to his recently more popular unconcious state he ponders his fate.
Will he ever escape the unquestionable allure of this strange place and return to his peoples or will he just decide to make use of his expertise in the ancient martial art of 'Tak-ah-lah' to scare the entire bar to death.
He feels he shall make his decission upon his return to the world of conciousness

"who runs it? well the diplomatic dictator- Magethrall Locke. its a national thing the government runs it. the taxes pay for it and the tax payers are all to happy to pay for it. its our national game, watchin other nations fight one another. sometimes we bet the winners sometimes we dont. its still fun."

*after an ol' janx spirit and a whisky Adaine was a little loose lipped and said things he shouldn't. He and "Geregor Smith" were listed for assaination.*

"I see," said Darrick, pondering what to do next. Adaine seemed to be slurring his words slightly, an indication of intoxication.

"So, is that why you were sent here?" he asked the black-clothed man. "To gather intelligence about foreign wars?"

Sir Boots awakes once more.
This time in more control of his senses.
Insteand of rising and demanding that the bar pay proper respect to the Prince, he lies in silent stillness, listening to the drunken rable at the bar.
Information is priceless, and he wants some more.

After waking up from a long sleep at the bar iron pig moves around the bar shuffleing looking at the new faces. Interesting this bar is full hmm wow. Look at byron ha infatuated with a damsel I see hah i gave up dating years ago. It makes people weak...and besides no one wants to date a guy wrapped up in bandages.

Lord Byron was truely infatuated as he watched her work, the noise of the Bar since faded to a gentle hum. She moved as if in slow motion, as if she were waltzing between the Tables and her movement and skill with the Trays full of drink was poetry in Motion to his eyes.
This All came to an abrupt end when he felt Iron Pig slap him back to his senses.
"Ok right then", Byron half protested, "Mines a double merriement and its on you Pig for the wakening from a beautiful Dream!"
Iron Pig shook his bandaged head in a dolefull manner and the Two men laughed like they had been taken silly. Neville as usual was on the mark and served the drinks and Byron had wished it could have been that waitress.

Slyzosovakiastan? By the Council - no, change that, By the Triumvirate (now that really didn't have the same ring), the Nargopian representative was doing some deception. Stephanie didn't know what to think, but the next words from the man in black surprised her.

"Something to think about," she thought to herself, "now that the Triumvirate's volunteered us for the Pretenama Panel".

Coming to underneath a table, BFFG shook his head, attempting to clear his head. This was a mistake, as his brain nearly sloshed out of his ears. Wincing, he rubbed his eyes and decided there was only one cure for the heck of a hangover he seemed to be having. More alcohol.

Boots inspired by BFFG's blatent disregard for his own health decides to follow in the large ones footsteps.
He crawls out from his recent home under the billard table, slowly streches as he surveys any possible threats in the bar and deciding that this may be more entertaining than just simply killing everyone, slowly ensuring his balancing skills are up to the task he walks to the bar in search of some refreshment.

Behind the bar, Neville, his sleeves rolled up, intermittently poked a screwdriver into the innards of the Unsuitable Behaviour monitor. He had set it to detect n00bishness, and it had been glowing yellow all day. But everybody was behaving in an exemplary manner. There was nothing going on but the standard Bar activites: pool, karaoke, lying, plotting, lusting, gambling, drinking to excess, planning the overthrow of legitimate governments, fingering assassination targets ...

Aha! That might be it! The machine might have detected that someone intended to kill in the Bar! That would be foolish, of course, given the existence of the Acme Time Twister, which would simply switch everyone to a timeline in which no assassination had occurred. (He had had it installed last year, after realising that nobody could fully relax in a bar in which they might be actually, permanently, definitively offed.)

But assassination wouldn't be n00bish, merely newcomer-ish. You couldn't expect anyone to know everything about a place they'd just walked into. So all he had to do was set the machine to a less sensitive level ... damn. Didn't work. That was the trouble with technology, too many interfaces ... it was probably something to do with the safety wall ...

Maybe he should just set it to detect smokers.

Dairl was depressed. And the beer was making him more depressed. People were talking. Some of them knew each other. He felt invisible.

He stared at his beer. He didn't even like it that much. It's only purpose was to get him drunk, and he wasn't there yet.

He was getting a headache.

After suitable refreshments Sir Boots makes his way to the door.

As a result of his slightly intoxicated state he decides to treat the bar with a few words while thinking to himself 'I hope that delightful chap behind the bar doesn't show his Acme Time Twister the same courtasy he presented to his Moniter'

"I Sir Boots, benevolent Prince of the Principalities Under a Rock thank you for your most generous hospitality and vow to return to your fine establishment as soon as I have dealt with the threats on my nation caused by the cursed Haters of Loathian.
Maybe not today, Maybe not tomorrow......... well actually.....probably tomorrow eh.....umm......OK bye now"

And with that remarkably intellectual speech, considering his recent intake of intoxicating substances, he fades away into the growing darkess of the outside world.

As the door closes the occupants hear his fading words
"Derka Kablach, and peace to all non-loathians"

Will he actually return ?
I guess the Princess will have a say on that matter.
But that story my friends is for another time.

Hodgelett felt in the way of the two conspirators, who were talking around her. 'Why not sit next to each other instead of either side an empty stool? Derrick's supposed incognito might be a bit of fun to him, but it's hardly doing the other gentleman any good.'
She spotted a rather glum looking face round the other side of the bar. She slipped off her stool and made her way around to his side. "Hey. New around here? Neville, same again for me and I think our new friend needs a Happy Hot Totty." Giving him a conspirital wink. "By the way, call me Hodgelett. One of the regulars you could say. Nice to see you."

Dairl blinked.

"Are you talking to me?" he asked, and then felt stupid.

Neville wana arm wrestle?

After suitable refreshments Sir Boots makes his way to the door.

As a result of his slightly intoxicated state he decides to treat the bar with a few words while thinking to himself 'I hope that delightful chap behind the bar doesn't show his Acme Time Twister the same courtasy he presented to his Moniter'

"I Sir Boots, benevolent Prince of the Principalities Under a Rock thank you for your most generous hospitality and vow to return to your fine establishment as soon as I have dealt with the threats on my nation caused by the cursed Haters of Loathian.
Maybe not today, Maybe not tomorrow......... well actually.....probably tomorrow eh.....umm......OK bye now"

And with that remarkably intellectual speech, considering his recent intake of intoxicating substances, he fades away into the growing darkess of the outside world.

As the door closes the occupants hear his fading words
"Derka Kablach, and peace to all non-loathians"

Will he actually return ?
I guess the Princess will have a say on that matter.
But that story my friends is for another time.

As he left the bar, BFFG raised his glass. "Sir, I salute you." And then he went back to getting hammered.

Well there's not many other lonely looking new guys around here. So that's a yes.
Why the long face?

Dairl let out his breath.

"I guess there's a lot of reasons I could be depressed," he said. "My father dying not all that long ago be the top of the list. But the crazy thing is, that's not really why."

A slight embarrassed smile crossed over his face. "Honestly, and this is going to sound really silly, I guess I was just sort of lonely."

He blushed. "Sorry, I feel rather stupid at the moment."

"Well we can't be having that!
Thing is most of my usual crowd isn't here at the mo, still, all you have to do is find one buddy here, and you're made." She winked. "Tell me a bit about yourself and you might have the first step on the ladder to popularity."

"Well, er..."

What should he say? He wasn't sure. What's the kind of stuff people wanted to know? It seemed to depend on the people. There were the people that just wanted to know Who You Are, that is to say, the official stuff. Then there were the people that actually wanted to know what you were like. It was generally bad to get it wrong.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

You sound like an idiot he silently cursed himself.

"Am I going to have to wring it out of you question by question?" Hodgelett thought a moment. "Ok. I ask you 10 questions, you can ask me 10. No evading the question, and don't fib unless you have to. You can use the same ones as me, but that would be boring to do all the same.
"So I'll start.
"1. Favourite board game.
"2. When was the last time you were legless?
"3. Siblings?
"4. Where in the world would you most like to be right now?
"5. What's the name of your favourite pet, and how old were you when you had it?" She shrugged, "ok I cheat, tell me something new in the politics game.
"6. Signature drink.
"7. Secret talent.
"8. Best meal you've ever eaten.
"9. Biggest buzz. and finally...
"Number 10: what the hell do I call you by?" She said laughing.

Dairl laughed and relaxed a bit. No need to be uptight. Good.

"Well...let's see if I can remember all the questions in order to answer them... I'll start with the last one, since it's the easiest. My name's Dairl."

He paused for a bit, thinking. "Now, let's see...what else... Siblings? I have a sister. She's great. Mora's usually the one who makes sure I don't get too down about Father."

"I'd probably like to be home right now, if I could choose, but it doesn't matter that much."

"A secret talent... My sister always says that she can automatically tell if someone is too uptight because of this thing I do and whether they laugh or get angry." He laughed again. "It's their faces..." He broke off.

"Um...what else was there....something about being legless? I'm so sorry. I sort of broke into this mental image, and just...lost it."

"I'll answer the rest when I have time to think, but since I answered a few of them:
If you could do anything for fun, what would it be?
Why were you chosen to come here?
And I'd also like to know how old you are, but you don't have to answer. It's not about you specifically, but there's a bet with my sister. I very well may lose it, but that's alright."

"Answer, and then I'll answer the rest of your questions." A little quirky smile took its usual place on his face.

"Fun? What's that?" She laughed. "No it gets pretty amusing in here sometimes. But...I'd really like to go paragliding one day."
She considered the next question carefully. "Well I volunteered, can't say I would have been the best candidate, but definitely not the worst, and I know how to pull a few strings. And age...my, my, cheeky bugger aren't you? 34, still pretty young for my job, but I get by. There's younger on the rise."
She laughed again.
"Ok back to you Dairl."

Dairl was laughing again. Certainly not dull, at least.

"Okay then."

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering.

"Board game...this one called The Pit. Just because instead of trying to get to the end first, you had to be last. If you got there, you fell into the pit and died, basically."

"I'm not sure I have a signiture drink. I mostly just drink beer because it's simple. Always open to suggestions, though."

"The best meal I've ever eaten was at this official dinner my sister had. I don't know who she got to cook for that. But. Damn. Didn't much like the company, but the food was amazing."

"Biggest buzz...oh, what was it? ...I honestly can't quite remember. It was some sort of..." He shook his head. "Heh."

"The last time I was legless was probably...last week? Maybe."

"What did I miss? ...I had a black cat when I was little. She was called Nut after the Egyptian goddess. Best cat ever."

"So that brings the answers to ten. If you want to ask me about politics, you're going to have to name your topic."

"More questions then:
Your favourite kind of music
Is there anything really simple that frustrates you a lot?
Is there anything you miss?
Have you ever been sober when everyone else around you was completely pissed?
What do you have for a family?
If you could have one power, what would it be?
And finally: If you could time travel, would you? If yes, then when would you go back to?"

"the Asgard war sounded interesting, i think we'll back the other side, they have a bigger army 'parantli HIC!"

*Adaine looked intrested in wat the delegate from Enn was drinkin and asked for one*

"Oh heck, whatever's currently playing if it isn't Enya, children's tv show's music, or some equally irritating song. Anything I miss...what can I say but mama's cooking! Sober? Yes. Unless you count Neville. It can be quite as much fun laughing at some of the reps sober as drunk. Family. Now that's a tricky one, depends what you call family. One pair of doting and overly nosey parents, numerous uncles and aunts and even more numerous cousins." She paused for breath.
"Power...power...to know exactly what the weather's going to be like!
And the timetravelling, tricky. Because it will make you want to change the past, which can't be done. If it was permanent...I'd like to go back to Ancient Egypt, otherwise, it would have to be the future for safety's sake. Because you might not be able to change what has happened, but we control the future."

Dairl nodded. "I'm rather fond of Ancient Egypt myself. Hence, the cat name."

"The Asgard War, eh?" Darrick replied. "I hadn't heard of that. What's going on with it? Who are they fighting? Is it a boundary dispute, or maybe..."

Darrick tried to appear as genuine as possible, knowing that his next question was crucial.

"...a case of genocide? Could that be it?"

Darrick wished he had the privacy to explain his incognito behavior to Hodgelett, Neville, and Stephanie. He hated giving an impression of dishonesty, but that voice... that voice in his head had just been so... urgent. Darrick had never been so nervous or alert as he was around this man Adaine. Saying a silent prayer to The Hal'gan for courage and strength, Darrick continued his charade.

"The Asgard War, eh?" Darrick replied. "I hadn't heard of that. What's going on with it? Who are they fighting? Is it a boundary dispute, or maybe..."

Darrick tried to appear as genuine as possible, knowing that his next question was crucial.

"...a case of genocide? Could that be it?"

Darrick wished he had the privacy to explain his incognito behavior to Hodgelett, Neville, and Stephanie. He hated giving an impression of dishonesty, but that voice... that voice in his head had just been so... urgent. Darrick had never been so nervous or alert as he was around this man Adaine. Saying a silent prayer to The Hal'gan for courage and strength, Darrick continued his charade.

Genocide! Byron had overheard the word, his face greyed and his eyes grew sullen as he recalled why he had taken a leave of absence in the first place. The pictures on the intercepted transmissions from Belem, The black Smoke and the shame, the deep heartfelt shame that he was there, 10 miles off the coastline. He burried his head in his hands and a tear trickled down his face and it was in that moment he realised he would never forget, ever.
His Task force was armed to the Teeth and all he was mandated to do was to appeal to the Government of Belem to release the sick people to his waiting hospital ships. And he recalled the order to withdraw and his protests against them. His trigger finger itched to give the order to fire an unanticipated strike against Belem to form a diversion for his crack elite troops to storm the camps getting the prisoners out. He had discussed it with his 2nd in command and close friend since the academy days, Prince Alvetti of the Medici who had told him to just give the word!

Lord Byron lifted his Glass of merriment turned to his new friend Iron Pig, downed the libation in one and closed his eyes.....he sang,

To the Peoples with whom ive not been just,
And i have let your dreams gather rust,
I have deserted you to your foe,
and your faces haunt me ever more,

I now pledge my heart and my head,
to protect all those of whom its said,
And to carry you to a welcome Bed,
For i have promised the guiltless dead.

Let no one child cry out in pain,
Let the storms clear and skys be blue,
And hear me when I promise you,
I shall not, forsake your calls, again.......

He called out to the Barmaid who approached him and with out thinking she wrapped her arms around his head holding the sobbing wreck close but saying nothing, like a mother to an upset child.

Iron Pig looked on amazed at the sudden change in his friends humour, He griped Byron on the shoulder and stared into his tear filled eyes. "My Friend" he said knowledgeably, "My many scars are on the surface But yours are deep within your soul".

Genocide? Well, it seemed the Nargopian was doing a bit of research. But then Stephanie was distracted by seeing Lord Byron collapse blubbering, with [violet] soothing him like a mother with a child.

Stephanie thought this too much to handle, and resolving to speak to the Nargopian later, went over to her usual seat and began playing solitaire.

"Genocide i've heard aparrentli the Asgard people are going to be wiped out by The Goa-uld, thats always good viewing, and we wont have to clean up the mess of getting involved so-called 'illegally' in other peoples wars. Its a show'

* Adaine drank his Ennish Sherry, oblivious to the pair of eyes at the window watchin his dicussion in agitation, he was telling state secrets to the man that was supposed to be dead by now. A Trusktorian descendant, the pair of eyes knew Hadmon had to be silenced as well before he blew the whole story, a darker secret. *

Woke you from a dream? Saved you from a serpent! Love is a dangerous thing...a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up in your face. As you get more involved more explosives pile up and then she breaks up with you. BOOM*As he slams his hand on the table*. Best keep a relation ship at the friend level.
Then he saw the seen byron on the floor writhing in pain. This needs to be delt with iron pig mumbled to himself and crouch next to byron. My friend i shed tears for you until I find out how to help...

Neville wana arm wrestle?

"Sure, why not? Best of three and the loser shouts the bar?"

What would he have done without wonderful, normal Cybertoria? Here was Hodgelett being unnervingly brilliant at drawing a loner into conversation; Stephanie showing pointedly that she'd got the point; Lord Byron coming apart all over the place, Iron Pig being nobly supportive and Adaine of Avarhierrim apparently aiming for assassination. Darrick was baiting a trap and, somewhere in the shadows, that shy little thing with the wings was probably wondering what the hell she'd fallen into.

Neville's head was buzzing as he tried to keep up with plot and counter-plot. It was like watching South Park while reading War and Peace and doing a cryptic crossword, with one of those everybody's-somebody-else Shakespearean comedies being simultaneously performed by a high-school basketball team in the middle of playing a season-decider game.

At least, that was the metaphor that sprang instantly to mind. He could probably come up with something better if he worked on it.

In the circumstances, a nice quiet bit of male bonding would be just the ticket.

Hodgelett laughed as she spotted Neville sizing up Cybertoria. She took out a note worth 5 'universal currency' or 5 UC as they called it. Enough to cover two drinks anyway. "You meet me and I'll let you choose your horse and I'll take the other. You can't say I'm a gambling addict but I like a flutter now and again" she added smiling guiltily.

Hey*iron pig shouted to the men betting*Im betting for my poor friend here ill throw in 20 uc on the underdog winnings go to my poor friend on the floor.*hands the money to the men*

Dairl laughed and looked over toward the two men. "This kind of stuff happen often?"

"I'll put ten donuts ($5 US) on Neville. I saw what he did to those Goa'uld ships." :eek:

"All the time. So, you're in? Cybes or Neville?"

"Sure."

Dairl produced a coin out of his left pocket and flipped it. When it landed he said: "Neville."

Hodgelett chuckled mischievously before calling down the bar "Hey Neville..er buddy..want to do a fav? Don't put too much effort into winning, lose nothing but your pride!" And then added conspiratorily to Dairl "and gives him a get out clause if he loses."

Byron, stood up. He Brushed himself off and ordered a triple merriment on the rocks. He reached into his inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a large wad of Hibernic Dollars.
Im taking Bets ! he yelled, Neville 2:1 favourite 5:1 on cybertoria!

There was a frenzy of activity around him with people handing him money and screaming their bets. Byon called the room to silence. The Barkeep and the diplomat sat facing one another. A single lamp lit the room from over their heads and the sillhoetted outlines of the crouded bar faded all around our heroes!
Iron Pig took the Microphone.
"Welcome to the First singles bar Arm wrestling tournament. The rules are simple. On my Whistle you do the business. its a "best of three" competition.
All bets are over by the start of the first round! so gentlemen when you are ready, take the strain!"

Neville and Cybertoria clasped hands. the tension was mounting. "Ready, steady, Pheep" Iron Pig blew hard on the whistle and the bar exploded in an uproar as the barkeep and the Diplomat began their first titanic struggle.

Byron was standing looking on and violet now had her arm wrapped around his waist.

Dairl laughed yet again.

This was great. The last time he'd laughed this much without being completely drunk he was about ten years old.

My fellow delegates, it has come to my attention that - possibly as a result of the unusual stress under which we have been working - many delegates have been behaving in manners which are...er...less than becoming for a representative of a sovereign government at such an august body as this.
Therefore, it is with great joy that I announce the establishment of the United Nations Strangers' Bar.

For those unfamiliar with the term, the name harks back to the days of the Westminster system in England, where MPs would receive guests there - constituents, lobbyists and so on. Over time, the Strangers' Bar evolved into a kind of private club to which the politicians could repair for food, drink and convivial company aside from the strain of legislation.
Those who have seen the series "Yes Minister" and "Yes Prime Minister" know that, in addition, many "back room deals" are also organised within the Bar as the free flow of hospitality breaks down barriers of ideology and party politics.

The Bar here is open and all UN representatives are most welcome to avail themselves of it, whether just for a drink or two or to nut out something more serious involving the politics of the United Nations. I am sure that all members will take full advantage of the facilities.

OOC: This is a rather strange beast, an open RP set in the United Nations and with a constantly-revolving cast of characters. The nearest thread I can imagine would be some of the "House" threads in General.
The theory is simple, instead of trumpeting proposals constantly, UN members can come in and sit down here in peace and quiet to discuss the ins and outs of certain issues and then trumpet proposals. Obviously it would be handy if everyone had a "character" for their UN persona, but I accept that not everyone using this forum is that much into RP so it's not compulsory by any means.
The only catch is that this is not intended to turn into an extension of the boozy parties that some threads seem to. There's a certain decorum to be maintained in a Bar like this, even if your nation is a cross between Libya, Saddam's Iraq, Haiti and Zimbabwe.
Setting-wise, I imagine a kind of a marriage between a quality English pub and a gentlemans' club (not in the brothel sense, in the "I'm just popping down to the club, old sport" sense). A few billiards tables maybe, possibly a dart board, a few private-looking alcoves, a menu catering to all tastes, beers from around the world on tap, most spirits known to man somewhere about, wood-panelled walls, leather chairs and a collection of old maps and portraits of old diplomats on the walls.
OOC. I wonder if "Guest" had any idea of just what he had started. The Un Singles Bar has been since i have found the time to post here, Great fun and its stories are that of NS legend.
It is with that in mind that i now petition the Moderators to RE-STICKY the UN Singles Bar.

((it also says 'Strangers' not 'Singles'))

All strangers are single! untill you get to know them better!
:p :fluffle:

Suddenly Jeremy of Cybertoria was slowly but shurly forceing Neville's hand down, Neville was haveing trouble keeping his arm up because of his apponent's great strength.

Neville caught the eye of Hodgelett, who winked; remembered all those hours hoicking barrels of Ardchoille Old 'n' Funky around the Bar cellars; called on the strength developed in many a session of drawing home-brewed for demanding customers; and slowly, ever so slowly, forced the diplomat's arm up again.

You could have heard a pin drop in the Bar.

So, when one did, everybody heard it.

"Good old Enodia. Never would have seen this happening in the Bar he created," Stephanie mused to herself, as she watched the barman begin to win over the Cybertorian representative.

She then glanced over to the man in black and the Nargopian. Not much happening there, the conversation seemed to be drying up. Good thing she'd already reported the news of possible genocide.

Extracting himself diplomatically from the rambunctious crowd, Neville found a particularly special vintage from one of Ecopoeia's boutique vintners and slipped discreetly across the room to give his personal attention to an old and valued customer.

"A taste of home," he said, and waited while M. Duval savoured the bouquet.

"You seem a little distrait," he offered, after an appropriate interval for appreciation.

There was no spoken reply, but two pairs of eyes strayed to the back of the bar, where a row of silver tankards hung -- one, second from the end, looking particularly shiny and untouched.

"She hasn't touched it since December," Neville said, low-voiced. "She was in just before Christmas, and things were going well enough. And later I heard through the grapevine -- the Findhorn grapevine," he enlarged, smiling, "--that a lot was going on back in Lavinium early this year. Sub rosa, and all that; you know how it is. I'm sure we'd have heard if anything had happened," he added, bracingly. "You know these distant regions do have communication problems sometimes. Just one cable drops out and a whole country's incommunicado."
OOC: completely missed this until now - sorry, Ardchoille!

Darrick watched the arm-wrestling match with amusement.

"Hmmm, perhaps we should have bet on this, eh?" he asked the slightly intoxicated Adaine. "Oh well. I too would prefer betting on wars that involve genocide; personally, I believe that particular element makes the conflicts much more interesting and historical. Tell me, do you always bet on the side of the aggressor in genocidal wars? I guess it would make sense if you would, since most ethnic cleansers end up victorious even without outside help."

Feeling a buzzing at his hip, Darrick looked down at his pager, and read the message he just received.

URGENT. AVARHIERRIM REPORTED TO TPP BY ENN. CONTINUE INCOGNITO QUESTIONING. ACQUIRE SPECIFIC VIOLATIONS, IF POSSIBLE.

Excellent, Darrick thought. Stephanie understood, listened in and informed her government to refer this case to the Pretanama Panel. An amazing display of situational awareness and intelligence.

"Sorry," Darrick said to Adaine as he looked up from his pager. "It's my damned wife again. Even all the way out here, I can't get away from her nagging." Chuckling, he said, "Anyway, if you answered my question, I apologize, I must have missed it."

"I've got a feeling this is going to take longer than the good ol' English Grand National. And I was nearly one step closer to the money, ah well...oh look, one's starting to waver..."

Arm wrestling...and singles are good. Iron pig looked over the crowds arm wreslting and looked at his own feeling increasingly confident. *Cough* well I dont need to prove anything so ill sit this one out...actually all of these out. He mumbled and asked the bartender for another drink.

Arm wrestling...and singles are good. Iron pig looked over the crowds arm wreslting and looked at his own feeling increasingly confident. *Cough* well I dont need to prove anything so ill sit this one out...actually all of these out. He mumbled and asked the bartender for another drink.

That swung it. Untill then Neville had been steadily winning back ground. The call to serve was too much and his momentary lapse of concentration won the first round for the Diplomat. Neville was furious with himself for being fo easily distracted.
Mean while the croud who had backed the Diplomat were cheering heartilly regarding a hopefull return on their bets that they had taken with Byron. 5:1 were good odds.
Byron was unmoved, He turned to pig and just said "nice one!". Pig smiled at him sheepishly replying " i just fancied a drink is all!" At this point Violet was dispatched to tend the Bar and the members drinks order while the Barkeep and the Diplomat prepared for round 2.

"Oh well. I too would prefer betting on wars that involve genocide; personally, I believe that particular element makes the conflicts much more interesting and historical. Tell me, do you always bet on the side of the aggressor in genocidal wars? I guess it would make sense if you would, since most ethnic cleansers end up victorious even without outside help."


not all the time sometimes idiotic little nations attack bigger ones. a word of warnin my friend, once u leave the bar your open to assasination attempts from my country men. we have suspicion to believe ur tusktorian heritage also knows our secret. your great grandfather was assasinated because he knew it. do you know why we kill off certain races?

Stephanie paused. A threat in the Strangers' Bar. And not just a drunken boast - a clear indication if ever she had heard one. Darrick needed help. She quickly reported the incident to the Consulate with her mobile, but Darrick needed help now.
She went over to where the man in black and the Nargopian were sitting.

"Well, hello," she began to the man in black, "I don't believe I've met you before, and I don't recognise your accent or dress as being of a particular country. My name is Stephanie Fulton, I'm Enn's Chief Consul to the UN. And you are?"

Neville's eavesdropping skills drove him to put the arm-wrestling on hold for a minute. Something was going on that sounded a bit more intense than the alcoholic pushing and shoving that occasionally enlivened the scene.

"Messieurs et mesdames, the Bar is not the place for ethnic rivalries or re-fighting old conflicts," he advised firmly, quickly re-filling drinks. "Unless it's done humorously, of course. Or melodiously."

There; that kept the way open for English/Irish/Scots jokes, and for singing Land Of Our Fathers, provided they kept it in Welsh, and Kevin Barry (ditto, Irish).

"Or if conducted with flair and panache," he added, remembering that swordfights went particularly well in bars, owing to all the things able to be jumped on, swung from or thrown. "Or by prior arrangement with the management ..."

Stephanie Looked that Look.

Neville went back to the arm-wrestling. Matters were well in hand.

Byron Made a quick Phone call, within moments 6 men in Black suits walked into the bar and surrounded Darrick. The were well tooled up, All had the latest Goochi ensemble made from Kevlar and the best comms equiptment money could buy. They were armed with Rtk 7000 fusion disruptor Hand guns, very powerful and accurate and their darkened Rae Baan glasses although looking normal were feeding them Information on all the members of the Bar who were present.
The lead approached Darrick
We will protect you sir, as a good will Gesture by the Realm of Hibernia, and to Protect our talks regarding Alliances. Prince Alvetti sends his Complements.

Byron Smiled, he knew his close colleague would protect his proposed alliance rather than having to Approach the king with an I am sorry but our contact was assassinated and the Proposed Alliance is off!

Iron pig's eyes flew wide open from their half lidded state at the recent conversation. You want any of these men youll have to answer to me! My body may be in ruins but my eyes and reflexes are sharp. Now I may not have the most high tech hand gun but my desert eagle will do nicely. Avarhierrim...you'd better hope we dont meet again,*His finger itching to pull the trigger*I dont take threats on me or my friends lightly.

Signalling to Ms Bracket to take over serving the drinks, Neville sidled discreetly up to the leader of the MIB phalanx.

"Sir, entry to this Bar is restricted to national representatives and their guests," he whispered, in tones that would have made an undertaker envious. "The public bar is on the floor above."

Expertly combining Maitre d' Eyebrow No 29 with Steward's Shooing Gesture No 16 and a restrained use of Bouncer's Boot, he herded the extras from the area.

"There's a certain decorum to be maintained in a bar like this," he reflected as he returned to the bar. "I am so-o-oo installing an up-to-date weapons detector."

Relying on the Acme Industries Mayhem Monitor (Disarmingly Effective!) was all very well, since it could be put on Reverse Thrust and make perpetrators perp themselves. But it was better to stop these things at their source.

He was looking forward to a soothing half-hour break with the Acme catalogue and a nicely-brewed pot of Earl Grey. First, though, the second round of the arm-wrestling.

'hey dont look at me i can't touch u while where in this bar, he's outside."

*the eyes at the window quickly retraeted to tell the Magethrall that the assanination hadn't gone to plan and that their delagate had found out about the asgard war. who cared about some poxy council, over the years Avarhierrim had gotten some great allies and destroyed nations that looked like they could detroy us. trusktoria and its mentally gifted people were one of them. onli commoners thought genocide was for fun.*

Lord Esheram Byron was sitting at the Bar and had ordered another round of Merriement when suddenly his Pager went off. He read the communique that scrolled across the display of the Secured Pager and immediatly stood up. He turned to the Bar where Violet was just arrived with his drinks. He looked her in the eye and strained as he had to leave and was now much accustomed to her. Impulse burst forth from him at that moment and he Jumped the Bar and gripped her in a tight wonderful embrace. He Peeled away and told her he had to leave but would be back when his appointment had finished.
Turning away from her he walked to Iron Pig and Bearhugged him. "Thanks my friend for making this a swift recovery and a wonderful break from Diplomatic Matters. I must leave Immediatly as i am to represent the Realm in the Matter of the Pretenema Panel."
The Security Detail who had not long before been escorted from the bar by Neville had been re-ordered to now convey Lord Byron to the Hearings, and had a car with an escort awaiting.
Byron walked to the Door and at the threshold he turned, Gave a wry smile. "Fare well my friends, But keep my seat warm, For you have not seen the last of Lord Esheram Byron."

Neville's eavesdropping skills drove him to put the arm-wrestling on hold for a minute. Something was going on that sounded a bit more intense than the alcoholic pushing and shoving that occasionally enlivened the scene.

"Messieurs et mesdames, the Bar is not the place for ethnic rivalries or re-fighting old conflicts," he advised firmly, quickly re-filling drinks. "Unless it's done humorously, of course. Or melodiously."

There; that kept the way open for English/Irish/Scots jokes, and for singing Land Of Our Fathers, provided they kept it in Welsh, and Kevin Barry (ditto, Irish).

"Or if conducted with flair and panache," he added, remembering that swordfights went particularly well in bars, owing to all the things able to be jumped on, swung from or thrown. "Or by prior arrangement with the management ..."

Stephanie Looked that Look.

Neville went back to the arm-wrestling. Matters were well in hand.

The pressure was really intence, Neville, and Jeremy of Cybertoria were neck and neck, neather arm was bugging.

Darrick gulped nervously. He had been found out, and his newly acquired psychic abilities had not forseen this at all.

I guess Fate gifted me with weak situational telepathy and decided to skimp in the precognition department, he thought.

"Thank you, sirs," he said to all of the noble souls who had backed him. "Allow me to repay you for your kindness. Which beverage would you prefer?"

Winking at Adaine, he said, "The name's Darrick. Of course, your government already knew that, just as they knew that I'm from Nargopia. I wonder though, do they know just what kind of turmoil would ensue from my assassination? Billions in Hibernia would be angered by the delay of the Bowdigity-Hibernia alliance. In fact, that anger would probably produce a more united front against Avarhierrim than the actual alliance would have. The IADF would have a field day with this as well. I wonder how many days the conflict would last before Avarhierrim would be completely decimated. Five, maybe?"

Chuckling, Darrick ordered his friends their drinks, as well as a Nargopian Radler for himself.

"A toast," he said, standing on his barstool with surprising balance. "A toast to friends, new and old, a toast to fellowship, but most of all," he paused, winking once again at Adaine, "a toast to foolish enemies, for without them, who would we as moral and noble souls have to laugh at?"

Sitting down, Darrick noticed sadly that Lord Byron had left. Oh well, he thought. I'm sure I'll catch him at a banquet or conference quite soon, provided I actually do make it out of here with my life.

Slipping another thousand Nargopian shadines to Neville, Darrick said, "Here. Take the finest wine this can buy and give it to Violet. Tell her it's from Byron."

"we are not afraid of you puny people, we have great allies and our nomadic life means we have no dwellings for you to destroy. Avierians may not hold with violence but if you try to invade us we will assasinate you or hound you with mercenaries." said adaine

Never fear darrick...Im staying here and if you need an escort to exit this place im your man.*Iron pig suddenly hears something and grips his desert eagle which flickers in the light he sees a slight glint in the shadows* Bang*
A bit of uproar comes from the gun shot as a man falls on the floor with a gun cocked and ready. As I said Ill protect you.

:falls to floor with large bullet wound in chest:

It was a lighter! A lighter!

:falls unconcious:

"Here now, here now, we don't need any of that in here."

Stephanie bustled around the room, then turned to Neville.

"Didn't you mention some kind of [alternate dimentions = no killings] device? Well, I'd say this is the time to activate it."

"He's not dead. It may look serious, but it's just a flesh wound," Neville reassured the onlookers.

"Didn't you read the Smoking can kill you warnings?" he muttered to the wounded delegate, retrieving the lighter. "And will you please stop bleeding on the carpet?"

Something would have to be done (but definitely not polyester carpet, however E-Z-Kleen it might be).

Still, he was relieved that he'd been able to avoid using the Time-Twister. It wasn't just the inconvenience, despite the fact that last time he'd had to hire experts from Ankh-Mopork's renowned if unseen University to chase up all the minor contradictions.

No, it was the unsettling thought that they might have all been shifted to an alternate time-line where he'd lost both arm-wrestling bouts.

After being helped to his feet, and having a bandage applied to his chest, he felt alright enough to hobble to a table and order a glass of brandy. Taking a sip, he turned to Neville. "I hope you don't think I smoke. It's a disgusting habit. I just carry this because it's easier to set a mug of beer on fire with one of these then with matches."

He gazed around the room a minute, before focusing on a tall, remarkably thin figure who's luminous blue eyes were the only part of his body not enshrouded in his long black robe. "I'm sorry, sir, but your services are not required here," he said.

OK, said the figure.

I'LL JUST HAVE A DRINK AND BE ON MY WAY.

"Excellent idea. I'll have a refill as well," he said, motioning to the serving girl.

"Just like old times. You know, my very first memory of this place is walking in to find a man with burned wings lying unconscious on the floor. Well this time the body's up and walking, but I'd say closer to death. Well will be if he doesn't stop bleeding. Excuse me a moment but I'm just going to look at that wound."
Hodgelett reached over the bar and grabbed the First Aid kit and noticed with amusement it hadn't ever been opened. Then she strode up to the Fatus Maximus rep. "Come on now. Alcohol thins your blood. Off with your shirt." She interrrupted him before he could make any wild comments that that dirty tea-towel was a perfectly acceptable bandage. "Now! For one thing it only covers your front, and I'm not sure if you've noticed but your suit is ruined from behind too. Bullet went straight through. As you're not having difficulty breathing it missed your lung, and no major veins or arteries either. Now take your shirt off! And put that drink down."

With the NS Servers down, And no one around Lord Byron returned to the Bar as Had had little to do. The Pretenema Panel seemed to be frozen in time! the world seemed to just stop? could someone have used Nevilles device?

As he walked into the Bar he could see himself walk out. "For jaysus sake nev!" he thought to him self. "That thing should be locked Up!"

Violet walked up to Byron, "did You forget something?" she asked. Byron couldnt Help Him self. He planted a Big Smoochie on her soft lips and Smiled. There, Thats what i had forgotten! he went Behind the Bar and flicked the switch on the Acme Gizmo. There he said looking at the funny shaped Machine. The display read....

Returned to post #1884 complete, Awaiting continuity...... Continuity activated Parralax Achieved...... Time Space continuem changed! Please enter your code.

"Ok that should do it," he remarked and invited Violet to join him in having a drink before he returned to duty.

"Just like old times. You know, my very first memory of this place is walking in to find a man with burned wings lying unconscious on the floor. Well this time the body's up and walking, but I'd say closer to death. Well will be if he doesn't stop bleeding. Excuse me a moment but I'm just going to look at that wound."
Hodgelett reached over the bar and grabbed the First Aid kit and noticed with amusement it hadn't ever been opened. Then she strode up to the Fatus Maximus rep. "Come on now. Alcohol thins your blood. Off with your shirt." She interrrupted him before he could make any wild comments that that dirty tea-towel was a perfectly acceptable bandage. "Now! For one thing it only covers your front, and I'm not sure if you've noticed but your suit is ruined from behind too. Bullet went straight through. As you're not having difficulty breathing it missed your lung, and no major veins or arteries either. Now take your shirt off! And put that drink down."

Thank God for all those layers of adipose tissue, thought BFFG. "Yes, ma'am," he said dejectedly, taking off his shirt. As he did so, a wicked grin came over his face. "You could at least take me out to dinner first, though."

Darrick was tired. After a long day of danger and deception in the bar, he felt like he needed a good rest. Lord knows it would be too dangerous for him to walk outside, what with the omnipresent assassins and all, but that couch in the corner did look nice and comfortable. Walking over, he stretched out on the couch and promptly doze off, confident that his newfound friends would not let this Adaine harm him.

*Adaine was annoyed about Nevilles anit-assasination machine, it stoped him doing his job. the armed men around were no problem, foolish as they were.*

I am Latik! All Bow To Me!!!

I have come here to tell you all that "THIS GAME IS GAY!"


That would be all!~


God Bless Me!!!


ALL HAIL LATIK!!! :

I am God's Assistant. He wishes that the individual named John Marat be sent to hell for all his lifetime. This is because of his stupudity and lack of integrity. That would be all Low-Lifes~



ALL HAIL TO ME!!!

Stephanie glanced at the latest declaimer in the Bar. "Hmm," she thought, "perhaps I should take a leaf out of Krioval's book. DGTA rating = 12/10."

Edward Jones walked in quietly and took his usual seat. After a few minutes of shuffling through today's agenda, he decided to read the morning paper and wait for something interesting to come along.

Thank God for all those layers of adipose tissue, thought BFFG. "Yes, ma'am," he said dejectedly, taking off his shirt. As he did so, a wicked grin came over his face. "You could at least take me out to dinner first, though."
"Well, looks like he didn't kill your sense of humour either. Ok hold still and grit your teeth." She took his glass in one hand and a corner of the piece of fabric caught in the wound. Nodding at her neighbour to hold him against the bar, she poured a little alcohol on it, yanked away the fabric then poured more alcohol. Quickly she dropped the scrap of fabric and pressed a pad hard against the freshly bleeding wound, ignoring any sounds he was making.

The fat man winced in pain and grunted a little. Jeez, the cure hurts almost as much as the problem, he thought. Then the alcohol that Hodgelett had poured into his bloodstream reached his brain, and he stopped complaining and started conversing with the invisible pink elephant next to him.

She wrapped the paddings on each side tight to his chest by wrapping the whole of it with a bandage. "Well, it'll keep you clean for a bit, but you need a hospitol." Looks at his glazed expression. "Hmm, maybe as soon as you've dropped off, which will be any minute now.

:drops off:

"Well that was convenient." She signaled to the ambulance men, who carried the Fatus Maximus rep to a private emergency hospitol. "I'll come over about the bill later..."

Well now that is strange, thought Byron, it Appears the machine neville had behind the bar has malfunctioned and there ar two totally different time lines occuring within this bar!
He approached Neville who was still arm wrestling and not neville at the Bar.
Hey Barkeep! This Is messed up and we have to fix it. As its your machine i was wondering if you came accross this before. I mean Look Theres BffG Sitting there unhurt not even shot any more and yet look at the Medics taking the Other one out to the Hospital.
Neville Lost his concentration for the second time!, the rear of his Palm hitting the Table with a thud for a second time. The Diplomat jumped up delighted to have won in straight Rounds. The croud surrounded Byron for Payment of 5 : 1 which was duly paid in hibernic dolars at the current exchange Rate.

Nevelle Looked despondant. He was sure he should have won the arm wrestling but for the Interuptions. Ok Mister Byron Lets fix this thing he replied and they both Headed for the bar.

"It's working perfectly," Neville said, prodding the screwdriver into the only moving part he could see. "Anyway, I didn't turn it on. There wasn't any need, what with no-one being dead. As far as I can tell, the only one on a double time-line is you. Do you think you might secretly have a split personality?"

There was no way Neville wanted to go back to the time-crux Byron suggested. Why, that would rob the world of another example of Hodgelett's beautiful common sense, not to mention Stephanie's double-edged remarks and the Homeric courage of the wounded Fatus Maximus. The lower classes needed examples such as these. Gave them something to live up to, harumph.

It was that "harumph" that gave Neville the clue. If he, the well-known small-L liberal, was turning into a Colonel Blimp, then what the machine was doing was obvious. If you came too close, it reversed you. Thus shy Violet Bracket was the one giving the come-on to Byron, while he, in turn, surrendered without a fight.

For a moment Neville allowed himself to dream of the sensible, rational Hodgelett turned into a brainless flibbertigibbet. But no, he wouldn't really like that. Not really.

With a quick flick of the hand, he turned the machine off, then turned it back on again. "Safe Mode" flashed briefly, pointing out that it had experienced some difficulty earlier. Neville liked that. "Some difficulty" indeed; a masterly understatement.

"See. that's all it needed," he told Byron, triumphantly. "I don't know why that works, but it usually does."

Discreetly, he checked himself for Blimpish attitudes; no, he was back on track, as firmly opposed to the British monarchy as he had ever been.

Except, of course, for dear little orphaned Crown Princess Victoria Camilla, the beloved four-year-old heiress to the throne, currently being brought up alongside Lady Tiger Lily in the extensive nursery of a well-known charitably inclined musician friend of her grandfather, King Charles III ...

Hodgelett walked back over to where Dairl was sitting. "Guess this means I won the bet. Shame really, if it wasn't for everyone else it would have been a much closer match. But you win some, you lose some. And I guess that makes it my round again. Neville, same again for the both of us, and a consolation glass for yourself."

On the couch, Darrick dreamt. Well, maybe dreaming wasn't the right word. It was more than dreaming, it was... seeing. He saw himself walking out of the bar, waving to his friends. He saw himself step outside, walking towards the street to call a cab. He saw a man jump out with some type of projectile weapon. He saw the man point the weapon at him, then saw himself falling to the ground.

"No!" he yelled suddenly, jerking upright on the couch. Shaking, he looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Feeling something odd underneath his shirt, he lifted it slightly, only to see a... scar, was that what that was? Yes, a scar over his heart, precisely where the man had shot him in his... dream? Vision?

Motioning to the waitress, he ordered two shots of rum.

One to get back to sleep, and one to forget what just happened, he thought.

After downing them, however, Darrick couldn't seem to fall back asleep. While he was uncertain as to why he had just experienced this vision (if that's what it was), he was without a doubt that his grandfather had been speaking the truth all those years ago, when he told Darrick of his possible Trusktorian ancestry.

How else would I be experiencing these...gifts? Burdens? Darrick thought.

Promising himself that he wouldn't think about it for the moment, Darrick headed back to the bar for some conversation. Giving Adaine a hearty slap on the back as he passed, Darrick took a seat next to Hodgelett.

"So, anything happen during my catnap?" he asked her.

Wade the Penguin waddled into the bar dizzily, and sat down on a bar stool.
"Dang jet lag! Waiter, get me a Root Beer!"
"Yes, sir," The waiter replied, ",but jet lag, sir? Aren't you a bird?"
"ARGGGG! PENGUINS CAN'T FLY! I was asked that every five minutes on the plane, and it was a ten hour flight! Just get me a Root Beer!" Wade yelled angrily.
"Yessir. I thought you were a Puffin. here's your Root Beer.
"Puffin. Pfft," Wade muttered, "Thanks for the Root Beer, how much?"
"First ones free, sir, you've had a bad day."
"Thanks."
He then turned to the man sitting next to him and started discussing the Air-Speed velocity of an unladen Swallow.

OOC: Is Wade a good name for a Penguin?

"Not much, got Fatus Maximus's rep off to hospitol. And Lord Byron's acting very strangely. Oh and Neville lost." She continued to read the newspaper in front of her. "Well I never, coconuts are the latest craze for pedestrians..."

Wade the Penguin waddled into the bar dizzily, and sat down on a bar stool.
"Dang jet lag! Waiter, get me a Root Beer!"
"Yes, sir," The waiter replied, ",but jet lag, sir? Aren't you a bird?"
"ARGGGG! PENGUINS CAN'T FLY! I was asked that every five minutes on the plane, and it was a ten hour flight! Just get me a Root Beer!" Wade yelled angrily.
"Yessir. I thought you were a Puffin. here's your Root Beer.
"Puffin. Pfft," Wade muttered, "Thanks for the Root Beer, how much?"
"First ones free, sir, you've had a bad day."
"Thanks."
He then turned to the man sitting next to him and started discussing the Air-Speed velocity of an unladen Swallow.

OOC: Is Wade a good name for a Penguin?
OOC: Best penguin name I've ever heard. And I've heard a lot, used to RP with a nation of penguin pirates.

IC: Stephanie looked up, and smiled. Finally, someone new to the Bar, who wasn't all about war and the like. She moved over to the penguin, and introduced herself.

"Hello. I'm Stephanie Fulton, the Ennish consul to the UN. I don't believe I've met you. Welcome to the Strangers' Bar."

this is all a little...confusing is the word. Well any way fatus I will pay the medical bill in full as well as 5000 dollars in compinsation for your trouble.*iron pig saw that byron and neville were busy with...that thing so he decide to check out side for anything suspicious* Well this is becoming quite a hubub*lights a cigarette**he looked left and right and saw a black van speeding towards him* Well*he gripped his desert eagle* ill give him a chance to swerve*the car continues on the crash course*well ok let play*At the last second he jumps out of the way and emptys the clip into the tires, the car swerves misses the ambulance and hits a wall, Iron pig reloads and walks to the crash site*Now lets see if I know the mystery driver...no not ringing a bell hey EMS we have another man injured over here.*Iron pig looks closly on the man's shirt and sees a phone number*Hmm 988-4783 lets see...*dials number* A gruff voice on the other line say, Hello Iron pig. "!"

Wade turned to the girl who had approached him.
"Hi Stephanie. I'm Wade. Sorry if I sounded rude, but ten hours of little kids playing 'Poke the Penguin' isn't very fun, as you can probably guess. Want me to get you a drink?"

:rolleyes:
A very strange, androgynous looking holy person in saffron and honeysuckle robes swishes past Wade and Stephanie. He (or she)seems to have been hiding, perhaps meditating, perhaps contemplating his (or her) navel in a dark corner. Quietly, but with a surprisingly clear voice tinged with an unfamiliar accent, the stranger interrupts:
"If you will forgive my rudeness for interrupting; Were you talking about a Hirundo spilodera, or perhaps a Hirundo rustica?" Seeing that he may be talking Latin to the surprised-looking duo, he advances - "An African or a European swallow?"

Who are you? iron pig said, You dont need to know that yet.... How did you know I would call? Belive me when you know some one since they were 15 and have been following them around you get to predict their behavior...make sure to keep the cell phone ill be contacting you.... Why? Ill just call that number again. dont bother Ill have a different one. How can I be sure youll call back. Genetic enhancment, the mysterious voice said. Iron pig gasps. Who are you?! *a click in silence was his responce, He clicked the redial button and heard an old lady say hello**Iron pig went back inside the bar sat down and had a drink pondering who he might have been*

The television flickered in the corner of the bar, the 24hr UN news channel constantly on, usually ignored, had a delicately quaffed individual with a serious emmy winning look in his eye.

And some breaking News! It Appears there has been an attempt on Lord Esheram Byrons Life, Representitive of the Region of the Realm of Hibernia, at the Pretenema Panel Battle Command Center, Seems he has been shot by an Unknown assailant and is in a coma and doctors their at the Medical facility are operating as we speak. we will bring you more on that as we get it. so back to the current proposal, in studio we Have Neoconland with his idea on the ongoing debate of homosexual marriage. Welcome to the show and i guess the first question is what the hell were you thinking?

"Lord Byron in hospital? Pretenama Panel Battle Command Centre? What's going on?" Stephanie asked, aghast. Enn was a member of thw Pretenama Panel, but that was run by a different department to her own. Surely Lady Faren wouldn't involve Enn in any stupid wars, would she?
Silly question. Of course she would.

"I'm guessing that we're going to need a trip to the hospital soon. Unless anyone else is planning on taking an ambulance there? I hope not, I had a row with my florist."
Hodgelett cast her eye over the other representatives, and also considered those not present. 'Which has a leader willing to do such a thing? Or is it simply the wrong place at the wrong time?' She caught sight of Violet, who was musing over something in her hand. 'That would be better left to Neville to deal with if anything's necessary.'

Wade turned to the Robed Person.
"I don't know that!" he exclamed, "Let's just say European. So, why don't you take a seat? I don't bite, but sometimes I slap people's shins as a reflex, so you better be careful about that."

Dairl was lost in thought.

He didn't mind losing bets, that wasn't what he was thinking about at the moment. If a chicken was going to fight a dragon, he'd flip a coin. Actually being logical took the fun out of bets, he thought.

Regardless, he was staring off into space at the moment.

Iron pig stared blankly at the screen* Barkeep here is the money ill be going to byron's hospital now.*the bar keep nodded* but how are you going to get a ride?*Iron pig laughed* You want to know how I got to this bar from my country?*barkeep nodded*I ran. And my country is over a thousand miles away.*the barkeep gasped in disbelief* these bandages were the cost of an experiment I was doing; these bandages are the price tag.*The barkeep looked perplexed*well Its no use sitting around here I must get to my friend.*One second Iron pig was there then a gust of wind...he was gone*

The door of the bar opens and a dejected and distressed Sir Boots enters.
Not even a shodow of himself he thinks to himself
'A drink, all I want is a drink'

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

Then he sees him, that dambed penguin. Wade or Waddle or something like that.
In an instant Sir Boots has reached into his inside pocket and removed a pen.
'Not be needing this anymore' He thinks with a menacing chuckle. 'No more will I use the UN Delegate pen. .... Well maybe one last time'
Wade hears this strange noise and turns in its direction just in time to see the crazed formed delegate slam the pen right through his neck.
As blood slowly oozes down the neck of the penguin Sir Boots looks disappointed. Then his eyes light as he reaches out agian and deftly flicks the pen. Swoosh...... a barely used ink cartridge flies out of the pen forced by a power hose of blood.
Sir Boots just laughs and leans over the bar to order a drink.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thought of drink brings him back to reality and he closes the door and slowly walks to the bar, the thought 'I hope no one here can read my mind because I just had thee weirdest vision ever' running through his head.

"Agh barkeep a pint of your finest intoxicating libation, sil vous plait"
He sits awaiting the relief only alcohol can bring him now.

Hodgelett wandered over to the penguin's side. "So, Mr. Wade, what brings you so far North? If you're missing avian company there's a chicken around here somewhere, although it's mastery of common tongue seems to be limited." She thought for a moment as she watched the Iron Pig representative stride in a flurry of bandages out the door. "But then the same could be said of some of the more human representatives."

*he arrived at the hospital*oh my friend there isnt much I can do for you...I only hope that you dont end up like me...no I cant let that happen.*Iron pig slips out A tiny hypodermic needle from his pocket filled with a slightly blue tinted fluid and injected it into byrons arm* Lucky no one was here...this drug is illegal in many nations this being one of them....dont worry my friend youll be well in a matter of days...sorry to leave you so soon but I must get back to my drink*once again he was gone in a flash*

A stool sat in front of the bar empty, then suddenly it was bathed in a split second of blue light and now a figure sat there. The figure was frail, and only about a meter tall with the a kind of Roswell grey alien make-up. Anyone that new him would recognize him as Supreme Commander Thor of the Asgard Fleet, or just "Thor" to friends and fellow leaders. He motioned to Neville and asked for a glass of water.

"Wade!" Darrick yelled, whirling to help the fallen penguin. Looking around, however, he saw that Wade was fine, as was the man whom Darrick had just seen ram a pen through the bird's neck. Confused, Darrick just shook his head, turned around, and ordered an orange juice.

The distant roar of helicopter blades slicing through the air could be heard inside the bar. The hum became louder and then stopped, seconds later the door to the bar opened and a tall thin man in a tweed coat and a cigar in his mouth walked through. It was Prime Minister Wunderlich of the All Powerful Monarchy of England and Ireland. He walked across the room to the bar and took a seat next to the alien. "Hello Thor," he greeted, "how are things in your part of the universe?"

Thor looked up from his water, "Terrible, as usual." His large inquistive blinked several times and he grimaced at the thought of the total chaos that was enveloping his own galaxy, but he had high hopes for the stop of this "plague". He called out to Neville," I think my friend would enjoy a scotch please."

Wade turned around.
"Did someone say my name?"
No one answered. He turned back and continued his conversation.

"I didn't come North. I'm from a different planet, called Tamriel. It's awesome there."

*Adaine looked around the romm and hearin byron wasn't dead he grimaced. the prince was supposed to be assasinated, for he had done the genocide mission well, but he could blab about it. never mind. he looked around and contemplated playing poke the pengiun*

Jay walks in the door and pauses, framed in the struts. This being the first time to the club, he is not sure what to think. For that matter, it is his first time in any situation like this. Frequenting local waterholes was not something Jay was known to do. However, his new position in the political center required some form of social interaction not associated with the job.

Taking a seat at the bar, Jay feels a bit unsure of himself. He doesn't have a favorite drink. He won't drink. That isn't what he is here for. Taking his time browsing over the menu, he is inturrupted by the tender. "Pardon me ... " Making a split decision not to flub up this opportunity, he decides to go for the confident approach. Politely inturrupting, a non-alcoholic mixed drink is ordered. It tastes awful, but Jay sucks his gut and drinks it anyway. The rest of his time is spent looking around from a quiet corner and observing the people.

OOC: My first RPing ever... yikes.

Byron lay in the hospital bed in a private room, which resembled a suite in a posh hotel rather than that of an intensive care ward. Armed gaurds had been placed at the only entrance to the room and the windows were monitored constantly by teams on the ground and roof. only visitors who had been known aquaintainces of the First lord of the Admiralty had been allowed entry and the hospital staff, all of whom had been screened before being given clearance to administer care to the stricken diplomat.
An amazing recovery however had begun to his weakened body and it was rapid! He awoke, eyes flickering open to the bright room lights and he had to cover them with his hand. He felt his body warm unnaturally and became frightened as to what was happening. His damaged and ruptured lung started cell reconstruction and this spread to the extremities of his body. everything about him felt new and somewhat improved. he jumped from the bed invigorated and knocked over the monitoring equipment which would alert the medical team of any failures in his system.
As quick as he thought of the monitor it lifted and righted itself. He shook his head holding it in the palms of his hands. What was going on? In the same Moment he felt the raised awareness to his movements and clumsyness by the medical tea and the Guards. He could hear all their thoughts! Clearly.
How could this be? He had the gift of very mild telekenesis and some psychic ability but never of this strenght or clarity!
right then an unbelievable thirst hit him as quickly as the Bullet which had torn through his body some hours earlier. At this moment the Guards and medical team burst through the door and were stunned to see Byron more than well and looking rather radiant.
After a full check up the doctors agreed to release the diplomat and he got dressed in his full military Uniform and walked to the awaiting Car that he had called for.
To the UNS Bar he told the Driver, and make it quick! i am so thirsty i could drink the Gasolene in this car ,he ordered.

OOC: Ilkland, this is my first On-Line RP, too. Try speaking in past tense instead of present. It's easier to read. Also, try interacting with others.

IC: Wade excused himself from his new found friends and waddled over to the man in the corner.

"You O.K?" he asked.

Stephanie was about to greet the newcomer, when she heard the screech of brakes right outside the Bar door. Looking out, she saw Lord Byron literally leaping from the car, before running inside.
She knew what he wanted. Her diplomatic reflexes had always been of great use.

"Neville, get Lord Byron an Ennish Shandy."

Stephanie was about to greet the newcomer, when she heard the screech of brakes right outside the Bar door. Looking out, she saw Lord Byron literally leaping from the car, before running inside.
She knew what he wanted. Her diplomatic reflexes had always been of great use.

"Neville, get Lord Byron an Ennish Shandy."


The doors burst open with a force that nearly took them off their hinges. no sooner than neville had the shandy poured was it lifted by an invisible force and it met Byron at the door. He gulped it down like he needed it to live and while he gulped glasses assembled at the taps and beer, stout, cider and Ale fell into them and each in succession floated to meet the thirsty gent. After about 10 minutes of this and with neville busilly scribbling down everything that floated Byrons way, the thirsty Lord stopped and wiped the froth from his mouth. Thank you stefanie he said smiling her way and he walked to the bar reaching for his wallet. You didnt have to be psychic to see what concerned Neville as he tallied the growing thirst of Lord Esheram Byron.

Now my bill is settled where is my beautiful barmaid?, Byron exclaimed as he scanned the lounge and its occupants. Where is the beautiful Violet Bracket?

Wade was startled. He jumped, or as close to it as a penguin can.
"What just happened! Are we under attack? I don't have a will!" He noticed no one had weapons and settled down. He finished introducing himself to the new guy and went back to the bar, where he found Lord Byron in his seat.
"Hi. No offence, but that's my seat. Oh, your busy, sorry. Could you hand me my drink, though?"

Byron looked inquisitivly at the strange creature he was passing beer to.
I do apologise for taking your perch, Byron replied however you may have it back as i am feeling strangely invigorated! as such i dont mind standing.
suddenly Byron fell to the floor and proceded to do 1000 push ups in 2 minutes, with out breaking a sweat. As he finished the last 10 a stool from the far end of the bar lifted off the floor and hovered over to the place beside what could only be described as a penguin! Byron jumped up sat down and grabbed a flipper which he shook heartilly. Hi there. I am Lord Esheram Byron, Prince of the Principality of the Templar Crusaders, Nephew to the king of the Venerable Libertarians and Benevolent Overlord to the Realm of Hibernia, Third in line to the aformentioned throne and First lord of the Admiralty of the Realm. Who Might you be?

Byron could sence some great hatred by someone in the bar for the penguin but could not see why. the beer and other libations he had guzzled had begun to wrap his Psychic ability in a mist.

"Hi, Lord Byron. I'm Wade XXV the Great, ruler of the CommonWealth of UberPenguinLand, which has recently gained it's freedom from the Imperial Government of Tamriel. Why are you staring at me?" Wade said brashly.

With a slightly impatient sigh, Neville lifted the two posters the Iran Empire's Islamic Balkans delegate had left on the counter and thumb-tacked them onto the Community Noticeboard where they belonged.

A beatific smile suddenly lit his face.

"Did you see what I just did?" he asked the bar at large. "IMoved! They were in the wrong place, so I did an IMove!"

His moment of joy was short-lived, however. His conscience suddenly smote him with thoughts of the dire perils that lay in wait for anyone who assumed the powers of the Lesser Gods. There was only one thing to do.

The large, fluorescent, blinking-on-and-off badge on his lapel made an odd contrast with the formality of the rest of his wardrobe. Nonetheless, Neville felt a lot more secure now.

"Not a Mod!" it proclaimed. "Not a Mod! Not a Mod! Not a Mod!"

Neville wiped his brow. With any luck, through his swift repentance he had avoided any plagues of scorpions.

Byron sat Quietly looking at the Flashing signs on Neville. He now understood Neville was not from around here as no one else seemed to have such powers.
Turning Back to the Pengiun Byron Smiled. Freedom my Friend, Its what we are all about. Then his face darkened. I dont wish to alarm you but i am sensing that someone in here dislikes you greatly. Be Aware that that person wishes to harm you directly. Byron scanned the bar again. No sign of My good Buddy Iron Pig! He must be in the Loo. And where is my sweetheart? The Beautiful Violet Bracket?
He cought the TV in his eye. The UN 24hr News Channel were making a very big deal out of the Recent Black eye delivered to it by the failure of the Assault on the Crim. Bloody Journos, Byron thought to himself. He turned to Neville. Barkeep! 2 double Merriments for My friend here and I. And make it snappy before i lend a hand! He gave the Barkeep a friendly wink and smiled from ear to ear. Have you seen Violet?

"She's probably sitting down by Mossy Stone, half-hidden from the eye," suggested Neville. "You know what she's like. Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky. Anyone here seen Mossy Stone?" he called, raising his voice.

(OOC: Sorry, that was Ardchoille. Too many IE cookies.)

Iron pig looked and smiled at byron and slid him a drink across the bar* I see that it worked...how do you feel byron?*he took byron's frantic running and jumping around the bar as an answer*well the bar has gotten wierder if thats possible...I mean there is me the bandage man,byron, ambulances everywhere, mysterious callers...and now a penguin....*cough cough* I think its time to check on bar security.*Iron pig walked outside and looked around for any suspicious activity and remembered the assasin's words "I cant touch you while you inside the bar" this almost sent a chill up his spine, but it didnt*

Byron Felt wonderful. Fitter than he had ever been and he sensed Iron Pig had somehing to do with his recovery. What was it you did to me Pig ? He asked?

A shadowy figure slinked furtively through the room. Only a set of piercing red eyes were visible from beneath a flowing black cloak, and they were steadily surveying the room. He's not here yet... but there's still time...

ooc: Findorn? Ardchoille, something you not telling us?
ic:
Hodgelett shook her head at the antics of Lord Byron. "Wonder cures...I don't know, there always seems to be a catch to me, maybe he'll lose some of the years of his normal life, or be extremely susceptable to certain diseases. Ah well, if he's happy."
She wandered over to the Ennish representative who seemed to be good friends with Neville and dropped a small curtsey. "Ms Stephanie of Enn, I've heard such things about you, and we have a common good friend, but never had the pleasure of an introduction. I've given up on the hope that Neville would do it so I guess I should do it myself - Hodgelett of Randomea."

Sada stumbled into the bar, already drunk from a bottle of vodka he had been downing during the General Assembly session.

"Frisb won't leave me laone!" he shouted as he shoved aside several other patrons at the bar and pointed to a bottle of gin. The bartender rooled his eyes and moved to get it. Sada continued to moan. "I can't now do anything right! Nothing, I tell you!" he shouted at no one in particular.

Then he fell asleep.

"Someone dislikes me?" Wade inquired, "I just got here! What did I do?"
He started drinking and wondering, "What did I do to deserve a day like this?"

After his country recently was approved and added to the United Nations Kalem see the bar and decided to enter. He was glad that his country of Lilonia had joined the UN and had, well for now, the backing of a powerful group. How this would play out for Lilonia only time would tell. He went up to the bar and ordered his normal drink and he sat at the bar with his colleague and they drank quietly while he looked around the bar for anyone that he knew. Seeing now he drank quietly.

"Someone dislikes me?" Wade inquired, "I just got here! What did I do?"
He started drinking and wondering, "What did I do to deserve a day like this?"
I dont know why my friend, Or even who. But my psychic abilities are senseing a very warped mind who would do ill on you. Byron sipped on the Glass of merryment looking at the penguin and feeling sorry for him as he was obviously worried by this. Dont fret my friend, he reassured the diplomat. You are amongst friends and we shall personally see to it that no harm or Foul play is enacted on you.

ic:
Hodgelett shook her head at the antics of Lord Byron. "Wonder cures...I don't know, there always seems to be a catch to me, maybe he'll lose some of the years of his normal life, or be extremely susceptable to certain diseases. Ah well, if he's happy."
She wandered over to the Ennish representative who seemed to be good friends with Neville and dropped a small curtsey. "Ms Stephanie of Enn, I've heard such things about you, and we have a common good friend, but never had the pleasure of an introduction. I've given up on the hope that Neville would do it so I guess I should do it myself - Hodgelett of Randomea."
"Well, pleased to meet you Hodgelett. I've already seen you at work here in the Bar, and was wondering whether we would get a chance to talk. But I must ask, who is that common friend you spoke of?"

She did a complete double-take. "Hang on - that was odd. Could have sworn I saw Brother Timothy for a second then, when he mysteriously turned into Neville. There's something odd going on here."

Sir Boots sit quietly.
Listening.
Gathering precious information.
Ordering drink after drink but his tongue hasn't loosened yet.
He continues to drink quietly.

The door burst open and Big Friendly Fat Guy, general all-around nice guy representing Fatus Maximus, walked back in. "I'm back from the hospital, everybody! A round of drinks on me!" :D

Iron pig walks back into the bar and sits next to byron* My friend if I told you what I did to you I would be arrested right here...and i dont need that on a vacation, diplomatic immunity or not. *ring ring* the cell phone he found started to ring* hello? *he heard silence then what sounded like a distorted voice* Iron pig listens for 5 minutes then slams the phone down chrushing it through the floor* he sat there contemplating for a while occationally asking for another drink* damn it how could he have known how did he destroy it...everything.

Sir Boots, never know to refuse a free drink graciously accepted BFFG's generous offer and hoping he is as well as he looks, invites him to sit at the bar and tell the story of his hospital vacation.

*Gentleman in his late twenties walks in, he has brown hair and blue eyes, he is wearing a black businesss suit and a nice pair of black leather shoes, he sets down in a booth off to the side*

What a day, what a day. Waitress, can I get the Shrimp Alfredo? I hear its rather good.

Byron turned to Iron Pig.
Pig my old mate! whats with all these silent calls you have been getting? Need a hand in any matter? I owe you one for whatever it is you did to me at the hospital

Listening and drinking.
Drinking and listening.
Listening and sleeping.
Sir Boots realised that he is once more asleep in a bar where no-one knows him. Instead of following his initial instinct to get up and order another drink for fear of never waking he remembers the ACME Time-Twister and decided that the respectable (probably) clientelle of this establishment have nothing to gain from his death and so returned to a more comfortable (less thinking), hibernatative state.

Edward Jones peered at the new card his office had produced in honor of a certain national delegate to the UN. DLE would have enjoyed playing this card.

http://img112.echo.cx/img112/2601/readthefaq5yd.jpg (http://www.imageshack.us)

I am sorry my friend there is nothing you can do. "I" can barely do anything about. It is best if I look into it myself*looking behind his sholder nervously* the bar door had just opened but no one was there* I think it best that I dont have another drink till tomorow but I will need a large quantity of coffee...its going to be a long night*he said as the sky grew orange*

Wade sat quickly darting his eyes around the room.
"No ones gonna get ME!" he thought.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he thought he saw someone watching him.

Anybody up for a game of chess?

Darrick looked up.

"Certainly," he said to the visitor from Cybertoria. "Now, will we be using Standard Traditional Rules or Ultimate Death Battle Monstro Assault Rules?"

Byron had been watching out for wade. He knew someone here was deffinatly having bad thoughs regarding the demise of the Penguin. If he could just fine tune his Psychic ability! He approached wade who was thankful for the company. Barkeep, Three stiff Whiskeys for myself and my two nervious Companions he said, eyeballing Wade and Pig. Gentlemen! How about a nice game of scrabble, he invited as he pulled up a chair beside the Penguin whilst simultainiously beconing Iron Pig to Join. Then turning to the Room he asked "we need a fourth, Anyone interested?"

Darrick looked up.

"Certainly," he said to the visitor from Cybertoria. "Now, will we be using Standard Traditional Rules or Ultimate Death Battle Monstro Assault Rules?"

Traditional.

"Excellent," Darrick said, picking up a pawn of each color and mixing them up in his hands. Extending two closed fists to the visitor from Cybertoria, he said, "pick one."

BFFG sat next to the semi-concious Sir Boots, rambling on about his stay in the hospital, his speech heavily slurred by the shocking amount of alcohol he'd consumed in the past five minutes. "An' then- an' then, they want'd to pour alky-hol on my bandage! My bandage! I told'dem, don do that, thats a waste of perfectly good alky-hol! Then they said it was toxic! So I's told'dem I found that out three liver transplants ago. They said it was a diss-enfectent or something, that it'd kills the bacteria. I'm not surprised- it tasted piss-poor." He paused a moment to stare off into space. "What was I sayin? Oh yeah. So's then, then they want'd to pour alky-hol on my bandage! My bandage! I told'dem, don do that, thats a waste of perfectly good alky-hol! Then they said it was toxic! So I's told'dem I found that out three liver transplants ago. They said it was a diss-enfectent or something, that it'd kills the bacteria. I'm not surprised- it tasted piss-poor." His eyes glazed over for a moment, before some lucidity returned to them and he whirled around to glare at Iron Pig. "An' yor the one who shot me! I expect you'll a'least buy me a drink. Hell, a lottof drinks!"

Byron had been watching out for wade. He knew someone here was deffinatly having bad thoughs regarding the demise of the Penguin. If he could just fine tune his Psychic ability! He approached wade who was thankful for the company. Barkeep, Three stiff Whiskeys for myself and my two nervious Companions he said, eyeballing Wade and Pig. Gentlemen! How about a nice game of scrabble, he invited as he pulled up a chair beside the Penguin whilst simultainiously beconing Iron Pig to Join. Then turning to the Room he asked "we need a fourth, Anyone interested?"
"Well, I haven't had a go at Scrabble for a while, more used to poker. But I'll join," Stephanie said as she took the remaining place.

calm down mr fatus 5 stiff drinks of fatus' favorite alcohol for him. Scrabble? Havent played that in a while cough well I hope I still have my vulgar charm.

The Group sat around the board. The Letters had been handed out and Stefani had picked the Highest numbered letter out of the Bag thus it was up to her to place the First word. Byron looked at his Lettersr,e,s,p,u,t,i.
he scratched his head, then looking to the others he enquired " Pure English or regional dialect english?"

1973, My birth year. The One thousand, Nine hundreth and seventy third Post is forever more a Marker of the Year I was born. Fortune shall smile on me as a result. :D

Hey...wasn't this thread stickied.....which miserable so and so unstickied it?

"Excellent," Darrick said, picking up a pawn of each color and mixing them up in his hands. Extending two closed fists to the visitor from Cybertoria, he said, "pick one."


Right Hand Darrick.

Darrick opened his right hand to reveal a white pawn.

"All right, you're white then. Your move," he said, handing the visitor from Cybertoria his piece.

*walks in*

Edward Jones looked up casually as the newcomer from Zatarack walked in, and then went back to reading his newspaper. It had been an interesting day in the UN, with a resolution up for debate and a number of proposals to rip apart, as well as a very small nation with...shall we say...ambitions disproportionate to its size. ;)

"I'd say Pure English, Byron," Stephanie answered. "Unless you want me to start putting down something in Common Ennial."

Her phone went off. "Hello? Yes, this is she... What?... Amalya's the Chair? How'd that happen?... Well, that's certainly a surprise... Alright, I'll talk to you later."

"Sorry about that everyone. I've just been informed that Enn is serving as chair of the second Pretenama Panel. Speaking of that..."

She put down the word "PANEL".

Neville looked around in utter disbelief. He'd just nipped out to the storeroom for a brief communion with a bottle of Ardchoille Old 'n' Funky -- when you're only 106, alcohol seems an appropriate solution to the pangs of unrequited love -- and look what the clientele had got up to in his absence!

Peace had broken out.

One group was playing Scrabble, another was politely battling away at chess and the remaining few were steadily drinking themselves into glaze-eyed immobility.

The admirable Violet Bracket sashayed across to the bar to mutter warningly of two potential pockets of unease: "Sir Albert's worried about being unsticky and Edward Jones is being super-cool."

"Honey sandwiches," said Neville automatically. "Best thing ever for unstickiness." Super-coolness, however, was more dangerous. He'd better investigate.

"Oh, my."

There is super-coolness because one wants to be thought super-cool; and then there is super-coolness because one is. Edward Jones, though seemingly immersed in his newspaper, had a pack of cards to hand. And what cards!

"May I?" Neville sorted reverently through them. Even National Sovereignty, the most persistent joker in the UN pack, was there.

"Oh, wow. Delegate Jones ... if you have any to spare .... would you sell me a pack? Please?"

Neville hopefully imagined Hodgelett's forgiving smile when he presented her with the perfect "I don't know what I've done, or even if I've done, or maybe it's what I haven't done, but whatever it is, I'm really sorry" present.

"Oooh!" Wade said, "I add 'ist' to 'panel', with the 's' on Triple letter! Yes!"

BFFG studied his letters for a moment. His face scrunched up in concentration, he wracked his vocabulary for a word that contained them. Finally, he smiled broadly and layed them down on the board. "KWYJIBO- a big, dumb american ape with no chin."

Wade pulled out his Official Scrabble player's Dictionary. "Kwyjibo is not a word, sorry."

Away from the various battle of wits, a man and a woman sat facing each other, the table between them supporting a recently opened bottle of Glenpincoe (http://diden.net/~maga/images/glenpincoe.jpg) that was in mortal danger of being fully relieved of its contents. The man's jaw was agape, the glass in his hand having been halted on its way to congress with his mouth. The woman had the faintest wry smile on her face. While he was struck dumb with shock, she took a sip from her own glass, savouring the smooth, sweetly grassy whisky.

The man finally emerged from his paralysis.

"We're going to run for dele-"

"Shh. Keep your voice down. There may be someone from the region here. Look, elections are a month off yet, but Janet confirmed that we're almost certainly going to contest the position."

"But, but... but that means-"

"Yeah. It does. No more casual idling away the hours. No more chasing Telidian skirt. No more fraternising with Knootian functionaries. No more marathon drinking sessions in here.

The woman sighed deeply.

"We're going to have to have to buck up our ideas, Mathieu. Assuming we get elected, of course."

They sat in silence, both finishing off their glasses. The woman topped them up again, chinked her glass against his.

"Best make the most of the free time we do have while we can, eh?"

"Ha. Careful, Varia. You'll be living it up by a chess board if you're not careful."

Ecopoeia's Speakers to the UN spent the rest of the night in the Bar. The bottle of Glenpincoe didn't survive.

Byron looked on in amazment at the serenity of the members in the Bar. The roudy brashness had faded into a quiet lull and the atmosphere in the bar resembled a library rather than a public house.
While he waited for the members to sort out the Kwyjibo matter, Hopefull that the matter would be resolved diplomatically and with out the members resorting to glassing each others nations, he looked at violet going about her business.
She had a natural grace and style as she worked around the bar and always had a smile for the members. Byron turned to Stephanie. So then, You married? he enquired.

The roar of Jet engines screamed over head followed by the whirring of helicopter blades. The doro opened and President Jack "Flash" Thor stood in the door way. He walked over to the bar.

"Tequilla."

The bartender nodded and Thor pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke it. He looked around the cluba nd noticed how calm it was. Thor was happy. After all that was going on in his country he needed the r&r. He tooka drag from his cagerette and had a sip of his drink.

iron pig saw an h on the board nd laid down the word a$$hole.* He chuckled to himself* i love this game. *He took a sip of his drink and pondered how crappy the intros for all the characters were and how everyone chose a generic drink*

"Kwyjibo" Sir Boots exclaimed. "I shot one of those ugly creatures the other day out on one of my 'Let's kill all the ugliness in the world' hunts"
Realising that he was no longer asleep and talking to himself he decided to do what he does best and drink himself unconsious again, but this time with an eye on the scrabble game. You never know what secrets can be let slip during a seemingly harmless word game.

iron pig saw an h on the board nd laid down the word a$$hole.* He chuckled to himself* i love this game. *He took a sip of his drink and pondered how crappy the intros for all the characters were and how everyone chose a generic drink*
Byron noticed his drunken friend could some times be so base. Pig, old buddy old pal, In case you didnt notice its Bffgs turn still unless we are accepting kwyjibo as a word, In which case it is my turn. He smiled as he looked at the confused daze Iron Pig gave him then looking to BFFG, Pig enquired Could you please hurry the hell up?

"Eccentrica Gallumbits, why did you have to leave me. Two hands were never enough for you."
Sir Boots' memories of Eroticon Six were still strong so he decided to return to his favourite memory dispenser, "A pint of vodka there barkeep if you please."

Wade pulled out his Official Scrabble player's Dictionary. "Kwyjibo is not a word, sorry."

"My dear sir, I protest! It has found it's place in the English language!", the fat man said, referencing Wikipedia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Made-up_words_in_The_Simpsons#Kwyjibo

BFFG turned to Sir Boots. "It is alright, my friend. I too, have felt the loss of Eccentrica Gallumbits leaving my life. I challenge you to find a man in this bar who hasn't been left by the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six."

Neville folded his arms on the counter, put his head down on them and glumped. It was obvious that a scriot, or Scrabble-fuelled riot, was about to break out. At the same time, most of the varying genders in the bar would be claiming at the tops of their manifold voices to have been left, or, worse, kept, by the previously mentioned Eccentrica Gallumbits.

This would no doubt bring down the police, and possibly the Mods, on them, particularly if the sundry visitors to Eroticon Six became too enthusiastic in their travelogues. And there would go his years of effort to finance the bar by running popular and frequent educational tours for nine-year-old members of church choirs from all the nations of NSEarth.

That being the case, he might as well go for broke. Seizing Violet Bracket, he whirled her into a wild mazurka.

He would have whirled Stephanie, too, but something held him back. Possibly the desire to make it to 107.

Darrick opened his right hand to reveal a white pawn.

"All right, you're white then. Your move," he said, handing the visitor from Cybertoria his piece.

I move my pawn furthetst to the right up two spaces.

"My dear sir, I protest! It has found it's place in the English language!", the fat man said, referencing Wikipedia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Made-up_words_in_The_Simpsons#Kwyjibo

BFFG turned to Sir Boots. "It is alright, my friend. I too, have felt the loss of Eccentrica Gallumbits leaving my life. I challenge you to find a man in this bar who hasn't been left by the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six."
Kwyjibo (pronounced QUI-gee-bow) is a fictitious word made up by Bart Simpson

I must Interject my friend, Byron Interjected. It seems the document you quote has the answer you seek but i am afraid in reverse for it states clearly in the rules for scrabble that fictitious words are verboten! He said smiling. And whom is this brazen hussy of which you speak? I lord Esheram Byron has not had the pleasure, or dare I say the Mispleasure, Judging by the looks on your collective mugs, of meeting this Tritited Enchantress of Eroticon Six

I move my pawn furthetst to the right up two spaces.
Darrick moves the pawn in front of his king up two spaces.

*The newly appointed UN Representative walks in. He is balding, a bit on the chubby side and of average height. He is wearing the Bentonberg national costume of well-worn, comfortable jeans, a slightly tatty T-shirt, and well worn sneakers. He appears to be a bit uncomfortable, as this whole experience is very new to him, and he is a bit shy in new circumstances. He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a sticker that says "HELLO, My Name is..." Written underneath in big block letters is JAY!! He takes a seat at the bar and commences to watch what is going on around him*

Sir Boots swivels in his chair to see the newcomer who enters and his strange introduction.
He removes his delegate pen from his pocket and begins to scribble something on a beer mat. 'Why is the ink red' He thinks to himself 'No wait, that's not ink it's....b-b-blood. How did that get.....' Then he remembers his earlier vision.
He turns and sees the penguin happily squabbling about the existance of Kwyjibo and why it is not present in his obviously dated Official Scrabble player's Dictionary. He returned his attention to his note which is actually written in Delegate style any-atmosphere ink. 'Something strange is going on in this place, and I need a drink to help sort it out' He thinks before showing his note to this JAY fellow.
"Hello JAY, I am Sir Boots of the Principalities of the same name. Let me buy you a drink and you can tell me your story"
(It was a rather large beer mat as was needed for the drinks he was consuming)

well my friend i am not someone to be kept waiting...I dont have a long enough attention span for this game * as he fumbled with his desert eagle* never leave home without it*yawns* Waitress I want a full pot of coffee night is upon us.... A FULL POT YES! AND START BREWING UP ANOTHER.

I must Interject my friend, Byron Interjected. It seems the document you quote has the answer you seek but i am afraid in reverse for it states clearly in the rules for scrabble that fictitious words are verboten! He said smiling. And whom is this brazen hussy of which you speak? I lord Esheram Byron has not had the pleasure, or dare I say the Mispleasure, Judging by the looks on your collective mugs, of meeting this Tritited Enchantress of Eroticon Six

"All words are invented at one point!" replied the fat man. "That rule is to ensure that nonsensical words aren't made up to gain points. Granted, Kwyjibo was made up to gain points, but since it's creation, it has been used in speech by Simpsons fans everywhere! Kwyjibo has had a meaning for years!"

Darrick moves the pawn in front of his king up two spaces.

I move the same pawn up 1 space.