The New 3WB

[Soviet Canuckistan]

Simone swiped the twenty from the counter and calmly walked out with Anton close behind.

[The Great Destruction]

Zhang busted through the doors with an already familiar flourish, "Barkeep, I'll have a Scotch, and the special if you are already serving lunch", he said said with a grin on his face, and sat at a table close to the bar.

[Skyrim Diplomacy]

Elias wandered in after a late night in the Security Council building. It was later than his usual outings, to be sure. It was actually probably his latest designation in the SC in a long, long time. His throat was throbbing with the pain of arguing and harassing debating and constructively criticizing the newcomers of the day (and a growing infection, he wagered), which had taken him deep into the night. Even the 3WB was dimmed from its already normally dull pallor. The local cricket infestation was louder than the distant voices from the Stranger's Bar across the street, something Elias, all things considered, couldn't complain about.

He sat down in the middle of the bar, pulling his skinny black tie loose as he did. He drew the metallic carton that held his cigarettes from an inner pocket of his suit-jacket top, lighting the thin "cancer-stick" as his government secretary called them. He rapped his knuckles on the table slowly as he took a long, deep draw from the tobacco. With his free hand, Elias rubbed his eyes as if trying to wipe the weariness from them physically.

"A scotch, please," ordered the aging ambassador without looking up to see if the barkeep was even still around. He had always assumed the place was open round the clock for situations exactly like this. "Make it a double if you can spare the ice. I have a feeling tomorrow will be a long, arduous battle against novelty, wanna-be authors and poorly-written proposals. Or maybe the sky will open up and it will rain coffee cake and a strong Earl Grey. Who's to say?"

[The Great Destruction]

"Elias, was it?" , Zhang queried over roast beef, "Let me get that drink for you. I know how you...", just then Shirley, Ambassador to the World Assembly, Jane the Temple, Black came trotting in through the door.

She was graceful, as always, but obviously in a rush. Shirley was the youngest of the diplomats that The Great Destruction had to offer, but for some reason was the most senior. Her skills with managing foreign relations had helped her come a long way, and her beauty and feminine wiles brought her the rest.

"We need you in SC chamber room C. Ian has convinced the His Holiness to propose a new type of SC proposal and I need you in there on damage control." , Shirley ordered.

By His Holiness, she meant His Holiness, the Pope of Arimanes, High King of the Righteous People, Herald of The Great Destruction, Protector of the Sacred Word, Kenneth the Talmanes Reed, Son of Lars. On the other hand, Ian,... or Ian, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Master Diplomat, The New "M", Fleming The Black Deacon, was official Minister of foreign affairs. Few people, and all of them high level government officials, knew him as the de-facto leader of The Great Destruction's espionage department, an almost completely unknown section of the CII (Center for Intelligence and Inquisition). Shirley was one of those people.

Now, for any who knew Zhang well enough, the expected response would be one of outburst for having been ordered so. Zhang was a proud man and his demeanor always demanded respect, but this was Shirley Black. He viewed Shirley more like he would have viewed his own granddaughter, and he let her get away with even more than Zhang's own mistress was accorded.

"Alright," , he sighed, "I will be right there. You know it's probably a good idea anyways."

"I.." , Shirley caught herself, realizing how much pride she just force Zhang to swallow, "That may be but I would feel much better if you were there to leverage your expertise. I'll brief you on the way."

"Barkeep! Put this man's drink on my account. I'll be back to settle up this evening." , he said gesturing in the direction of Elias, "Let's get moving, Ms. Black, before His Holiness can screw this one up. God forbid that Ian ever has some real work to do." ,and the two of them strode out the door.

[Skyrim Diplomacy]

Elias wandered in, much more chipper than one would usually find him under the circumstances. His recent resolution had been defeated after an arduous few days of campaigning and debate on the floor of the SC.

"I'm actually not too displeased, nor surprised, at the result. Such a close vote is promising, should a redraft take effect in the future. As such, the next round is on me!"

Elias knew the bar was rather deserted. He smiled as the barkeep poured a small number of drinks.

[Tim-Opolis]

Tim Stark sighed as he poured drinks

I remember the good old days, when we would war with the Gentlemen in the GA. Alas it is no more...

Anyone wish for a drink? I found something from 1862, that will probably be enough to knock out an elephant.

[Soviet Canuckistan]

Simone walked in, followed by Anton and they both sat down. Simone eyed the bottle of old booze and asked "What kind of liquor is that exactly? Sergei probably would have chugged that by now," she yawned and asked, "What's new Tim?"

[Skyrim Diplomacy]

"I'll take one of whatever you have," said Elias, the exhaustion on his face palpable. "Make it a double. It's been a long half month of debating ambassadors half my age who think they are able to tell me the rules around here..."

Elias drifted off, mumbling more complaints, his dribble broken only by the sips of his powerful scotch.

[SkyDip]

"Is there anyone still around here often enough to fix me a drink?" asked Elias, tapping his credit card on the bar in the all-but abandoned 3WB. "If not, I'm going to fix one myself!"

He waited for a few minutes with no response forthcoming.

"Have it your way," he said, walking behind the counter and digging out a glass, some ice, and a 16-year old scotch. "Maybe I should just buy this place and redecorate..." murmured Elias, pouring the strong brew over a single, oversized cube.

[The Centaur Herd]

A large creature, partially hidden in the dark corners of the previously deserted bar stirred, "Who, what, what do you want?"

A brief moments pause was punctuated by his explosion "Ah, don't tell me I am still in that feckin' Security Council Bar"

Bane rose gingerly on his four legs, "Drink, Bottle, Now", staggering to the bar he snatched the bottle from Elias, "Ya better not be bringing all those feckin' diplomats with ya, damn moaners, talk, talk talk"

[SkyDip]

"Looks like I'll be taking care of the place," said Elias, watching the centaurian creature devour the remaining scotch. "Let's hope you don't go through all expensive alcohol like that."

[Tim Stark]

Ambassador Stark dusted off the bottles and poured himself some scotch

It seem the excavations of the ruins have brought up this beautiful relic again.

[Consular]

Ambassador Faber glanced around at the dusty bar. It looked like the place hadn't really been used for quite some time, and the bartender was apparently nowhere to be seen. There was however another person, whom he assumed was an ambassador of some kind, helping himself to a dusted off bottle of scotch.

Sitting down in one of the chairs, he pulled a folded newspaper out of his inside coat pocket, unfolded it, and scanned the front page. The head story was that Repeal "Condemn Allied States of EuroIslanders" had been abandoned, after not reaching quorum.

[Ynys Prydain]

Ambassador Winchester was relieved to find that the old bar he'd heard tales of was still open. The dust didn't bother him, nor finding the bar populated only by two ambassadors he recognized from the floor of the Security Council. What he needed was a drink, after two consecutive failures by the Prydani delegation to reach quorum, and the dusty bottles he saw behind the bar weren't empty.

"You don't look like the bartender," he said to the man behind the bar, "but if you could make me a whiskey and coke I'll probably tip you anyway."

[Tim Stark]

Stark casually sipped his drink and looked at the new arrivals.

"Ah, fellows! Good evening! Here to also drink away the frustrations that are caused by the bureaucracy of the Security Council? I hear they might have some stronger stuff in the back"

He proceeded to wander over to the storage unit to check, hoping that he might find enough of a confidence booster in there to actually sit down and work on proposals some more.

[Todd McCloud]

Todd sits at the bar. He's had a rough go of it lately, but, then again, he really couldn't blame anyone. After all, somebody once told him the world was going to roll him. And, he had to come to grips with the fact that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Still, perhaps the worst part of the day was one burning question that remained unanswered. Why did that one girl give him that hand signal? He was walking to the bar when all of a sudden, there she was. Looking dumb. With her finger and her thumb. Making the shape of an "L" on her forehead.

Perhaps he was falling behind the times. He just didn't get the younger crowd anymore. The years start coming and they don't stop coming. He was getting older now, but not too old. He was fed up with it all. Fed up with the lawnessness. Fed up with the snowy strolls to and from the bar after a hard day's work of being the only sentient being in his nation. Fed... to the rules, he was. But he hit the ground running and kept at it. After all, it didn't make sense not to live for fun. But he wondered if his brain got smart but his head got dumb.

And all in all, there was some much to do, so much to see. What's wrong with taking the back streets, anyway? So you don't see the main sights. You're not with the main stream. Maybe that's why the girl called him a loser. But you still "know". And you'll never know if you don't go. Furthermore, you'll never shine if you don't glow.

He took a sip from his Benchmark bourbon. "All-star," he muttered.

[Polldger]

A shady character wearing a trench coat and wide brimmed hat enters the bar and heads straight to the corner. He tries to be inconspicuous but the crumpling sound as he moves betrays him; a 1000s of packets of chips fall out of his coat.

"Hi, you can call me Paul. It's actually Polldger which is how we pronounce Paula in my homeland, but I'm a guy....just call me Paul." He paused, "Loot from my backers. They produced too many plain flavoured chips and needed a buyer - quick . A new market to dump their stock, else I need to take it all."

His pager beeped. A relieved look came over his face. Success.

"Osiris agreed to buy" He leaned closer, "Let's just say there were a few extra votes in the ballot box at the customs meeting today"

He now turned to the TV in bar and suddenly turned twitchy again. Commend Evil Wolf. Status: Lacking Support (requires 1 more approval) Voting Ends: in 2 hours.

"I promised my boss I'll get it up for vote. But it's all a great bluff, I got no connections with the approvers there!" He could only near the steady tick-tock of the clock as it edges towards the deadline.

"I think I need a drink"

[Consular]

Faber glanced up at the display, an absurdly large television resting obnoxiously on one of the walls. He was somewhat surprised that Commend Evil Wolf had actually reached quorum at all, having fully expected the usual zomg raiderz be evil drivel to keep it down. It was a pleasant kind of surprise though, which was both good and unusual. He usually hated surprises, because they usually meant something had gone horribly wrong.

Commend Evil Wolf

For: 2,497. Against: 1,503.

Voting ends in 3 days 18 hours.

"The North Pacific has refrained from voting so far." He commented aloud, though to nobody in particular. "Their vote, if they don't abstain, could very well decide the entire thing."

[Redsward]

Cameron Taki walked into the bar in silence, but his neutral expression turned into a horrified face when he saw the Security Council voting board- Commend Evil Wolf was actually passing. He began to calm down, but he still had worried thoughts.

"Zakath has done it again," he muttered, referring to the ruler of Mallorea and Riva. "The majority of the WA seems to love that country so much, they're actually going to commend a notorious invader nation. I'm not against commending raiders, but he has yin and yang... like helping AND couping Pacifican regions."

[Todd McCloud]

"Ya know who should be commended?" The fox guy thing said after finishing a neat Four Roses bourbon. It wasn't a lot of alcohol, but it might have been enough to make his pockets lighter and order another drink. "Whamabama. I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now, just haven't really gotten the gumption to do the research just yet. And same with The Bruce. It'd be nice to get someone from Wysteria commended."

[Chester Pearson]

"Ya know who should be commended?" The fox guy thing said after finishing a neat Four Roses bourbon. It wasn't a lot of alcohol, but it might have been enough to make his pockets lighter and order another drink. "Whamabama. I've been thinking about it for a few weeks now, just haven't really gotten the gumption to do the research just yet. And same with The Bruce. It'd be nice to get someone from Wysteria commended."

You mean like this this commendation?

[Todd McCloud]

"How dare you repeat everything I say with quotes," replied the fine upstanding gentleman as he called the barkeep down for another drink. "But yeah, something like that."

[Tim Stark]

"Interesting thing you speak of there, Mr. McCloud. I personally need to work on my Repeal, but alas other matters mean I have had to put off work on it for now"

Ambassador Stark said with a sigh.

"Ah well, at least here the drinks keep flowing and the bad feels keep simmering"

[Ainocra]

Alcon Enta lies face down behind the bar under a pile of empty bottles snoring softly.

[Ambroscus Koth]

Ambroscus Koth pompously kicks in the door, which was already on its last bolt after all this time. The Three-Walled Bar...it had to have been at least 3 years since he had barged into this fine establishment. A bit dusty all around, but a few snoring drunks here or there were all the company he needed right about now.

He stroked his massive beard as he thundered over to the television that looked like it belonged in a museum. With a bit of "percussive maintenance" he managed to turn the damn thing on, and the singular channel that the TV was capable of receiving came through crystal clear, the numbers on the screen made his eyes glisten:

Repeal "Commend Tiago Silva"
For: 7,578. Against: 1,189.

Voting ends in 2 days 22 hours.

He looked over at the sleeping drunks and boomed "Eh? EHHH? Check it, this proposal's in the bag and the damn voting has hardly started! Hardly a bad start to a career, eh lads?"