The Hand of Friendship (AMW Only)

[Iorcas]

The Vacation Hut of the Fisher King, just off the coast of New Salamis

1:35 AM




The Fisher King's Vacation Hut

The Grand and Glorious Fisher King Wesleyan Praeterious III, High Caliph of the Isellenes, Protector of the Arawaks, Spreader of the Prophet's Word, etc., etc., sat on the deck of his Vacation Hut, dangling his legs over the water and listening to the strains of music from a water-top bar half a mile away. In his hands he held a fine bamboo fishing rod. His cell phone lay next to him, open and shining eerily onto the water. Even a King--especially a King--needs a vacation every now and again, and Wes always took his at the time when summer began deepening into autumn, and the first few small squalls of the hurricane season began to blow up. During the rest of the year, when he, every day, was driven to the Council House, and opened the Council's so-called "discussions", all he could think about was this time. When he could live a simple life, the life he had really been born to live. The life of a simple fisherman, with a beautiful wife, no children, and a beautiful house on the water. But, ah, it was not mean to be. He was a King, and more than that, a Fisher King. He had responsibilities. Wes closed his eyes, raised the cell back to his ear and sighed deeply. "What did you want, Anastasios?" Demetriou Anastasios, Consul-General of Atlantis, on the other side of the line, sighed as well, mentally. He knew his King's moods and hated them deeply. Wes, in his opinion, was nothing more than a layabout and a mindchild, a waste of space, and certainly no Great Leader, like his father had been. Even Demetriou himself would make a better King! "I wanted to talk to you, about the Oakists? Well, the former Oakists. That foreign policy initiative you submitted to the Council went through this morning, and the Ministry of Foreign Policy is looking into establishing ties with the former Oakists, and possibly some of the other pagan nations. After all, the Aventines are certainly not going to welcome us with open arms!" He accentuated this last sentence with a horribly fake chuckle. "All we need is your permission, and my secretary will begin writing up a letter to send to Akink, a second to Richmond, and a third to Randgriz." Wes managed to drag himself out of his utter apathy for a moment, and said, "And what will these letters entail, exactly? Some sort of international conference?" Demetriou grimaced and said, "You've hit the molerat square on the head, m'lord. That's exactly what it will entail; a conference, held four days from no--" "Four days? I can't stop my vacation just to see some foreign leaders!" Now Anastasios smiled. "Oh, I do think you can, milord. You can take your vacation at any other time of the year; now, however, is the perfect time to make this move. The former Oakists' relations to us are perfectly lukewarm, and we are particularly hated by the Catholics. It is time to move closer to our fellow pagans!" Wes sighed deeply once again. He hated politics. "Fine, fine, I'll be there...you have my permission. Send the letter, and make sure it gets there before December." Wes snapped the phone shut with a vengeful strength and threw it down onto the deck angrily. Behind him, his wife stirred and he felt immediately regretful.

"Wes?"

And now, the letters:

To those who it may concern:

Greetings from the Islamic Fisherman's Kingdom of Iorcas! I am Demetrious Anastasios, a high-ranking politician in the Kingdom's Grand Council, and per our new foreign policy initiative, we are inviting the leaders of three nations--Virginia, Beddgelert, and Valendia--to visit our nations' capital, Athenaios, to discuss the opening of diplomatic and economic relations. We are very interested in seeking closer ties with your nations, and are eager to seek some agreements.

(There is much, much more in this letter, but this is its essence, distilled down to a fine nectar of political bullshit.)

Regards,
Demetrious Anastasios
Consul-General of Atlantis and Minister of Foreign Relations

[-Lorraine-]

When the message reached Richmond, the President was busy running around the office. The Nilosahara business had put him in a trouble spot. He wanted to retaliate somewhat, but he could not bring himself to side with Catholic armies against Nilosahara, a nation who had also fought against European imperialism in it's history.

Iorcas had always either been an annoyance or a threat to Virginia after the Great War. Iorcan pirates were always on the seas, and Virginian naval ships always trading shots. But this letter proved to be a surprise to the President. As he took the time to read the letter, a little smile crossed him. It was the opportunity of his Presidency, a chance to kick the Aventines out of the hemisphere and create a new ally and trading partner nearby.

"Fred! Can you come in here for a minute?" The President called out to his passing Vice President. The VP stopped, nearly spilling his drink and turned into the office. "What can I do for you sir?" Gander said, wanting to get back to his work. "Take a look at this," The President handed the letter to him, with a smile on his face, "Iorcas might be on the changing tides here. We can ride them all the way through till next term. Remeber that oil report from earlier this year? Well getting them as our friends could slash oil prices and maybe they will do something more to stop the pirating. Good results for everybody!" He said with a smile on his face, the VP still reading. "How should we respond?" he finally said, setting the letter back down. The President thought for a moment before he had another smile. "I will go to this meeting. Notice the other countries going? Valendia and Beddgelert! Staunchest enemies of the Aventines and Catholics in all of history. This Iorcan is no fool. He will be looking to get away from the Catholic alliance, join fellow pagans. Maybe even go as far as to restart the old Pact! I will set up to leave in a few days, get a good idea of the nation before the meeting."

A reply was written up almost immediately, in order to keep the momentum going.

Demetrious Anastasios,

As President of the Commonwealth of Virginia and as a neighbor to your great nation, I would be honored to attend in your capital. Both our nations have much to learn from each other and have both to offer economically and politically. We both share a strong bond to our unique cultures and religions, and I believe that though we are both so different in these respects, we can be excellent friends because of that. I look forward to meeting you and seeing your nation as soon as possible.

With regards,
Jackson Lee, President of the Commonwealth of VIrginia

[Beddgelert]

Portmeirion, Akink

"Four days, hm? That's good to see, anyway. Nations paying attention to the pace Geletia sets. If you're going to have a war, fight it today; if you're going to host a conference, hold it this week."

"You've identified the best candidates all right, Chairman!"

New to The Village, having taken the presidency of the Durcodi Republic when Adiatorix moved on to chair the National Defence Commission or whatever he was calling it now, Danutalos may have been keen to flatter the Chairman of the Council of State, Beddgelert's de facto premier, but those who knew Chivo better rarely bothered, hardly expecting the former GSIC operative to be moved by such efforts.

"If the two Vs show up we may as well resign the onld accords right there on the beach. But the Pact of Palm just doesn't fill me with the same confidence."

"It's well you have a sense of humour about this, Apcarr. I'd like you to represent us."

The Chairman of the Council of Ministers wasn't directly answerable to the Chairman of the Council of State per se, and maybe Braeden Apcarr could have dismissed Chairman Chivo's wishes, but he knew better than to open that can of worms.

"You know my position, Braeden, and my mandate, so keep an open mind about Bantu, the Pharaoh, and the Shieldians if discussions do turn to the trees."

Well, Chivo wasn't exactly a bard when it came to speaking in riddles, but it was an ancient Celtic tradition and something he was insistant on restoring to normal discourse whether by elegance or bloody-minded persistence. For now Braeden at least had no difficulty understanding him, and the Chairman of the Council of Ministers, usually regarded as essentially prime minister to Chivo's over-powering presidency, was soon aboard a DAG-154 airliner en route for Iorcas via a pit stop in Valendia.

DAG really should hurry-on that long-haul airliner project.

[Iorcas]

A reply to Lee's letter was quickly typed, printed, and sent by a faceless Ministry of Foreign Relations bureaucrat.

President Lee:

I am very pleased to learn of your attendance! Virginia is one of my policy priorities this year, and I will be pleased to make your acquaintance.

With Sincere Regards,
Demetriou Anastasios

Meanwhile, Demetriou himself slapped together a welcoming committee as soon as he received the news of the Geletian arrival. Having been put together hurriedly, it was a rather informal affair, consisting of the Minister himself, his secretary, two junior diplomats, and a stretch limousine for Anastasios and the Beddgellen ambassador. Two small jeeps also waited on the runway, for their respective underlings. Demetriou patted his face with a no doubt expensive lace handkerchief, looking back at the shiny white terminals of Athenaios Int'l Airport. He felt the reasurring shape of the compact machine pistol beneath his jacket one last time. Iorcan politicians and bureaucrats had always prided themselves of self-guarding. Even the lowliest pencil-pusher had at least a balisong on their person at all times. But even with the machine pistol and the various knives hidden on his body, Anastasioz felt a little uneasy. Geletians were known to be unpredictable, after all.

[Europe - Prussia]

Ever Grande Palace, Randgriz, Valendia

"A conference, in Iorcas, you say?" asked the Emperor, while reading the a copy of the message sent to the valendian goverment. Because they were the one's tasked with the foreign affairs of the Empire, it was the Lady Chancellor the first high-ranked authority who read the message and, due the implications and the countries invited, decided to consult about this issue to the visible face of the Empire: the Emperor of Valendia.

"Yes Your Majesty. We have decided to send one of the commissioners of the Council, but we believe that you should send at least a representative due your position as Head of State" said the Lady Chancellor

After reading the message snet by the goverment of Iorcas, the Emperor turned his gaze towards the Chancellor and said "I cannot leave Valendia now; the Nilosahara crisis, added to the riots in Occitania require my presence here. Nevertheless, this meeting will prove usefull. Lady Eisling, wich person you recommend to represent me?"

"Her Highness the Princess of Madrid is too young to carry out this task. On the other side Her Highness the Duchess of Alba is a experienced person, fitting for this task" said the Lady Chancellor, giving her advice almost like a robot yet with enough respect to not offend the only two persons that the Emperor hold dear to him.

"My grandmother?" said the Emperor, with a somewhat evil smile crossing his face "That's........a interesting idea Lady Eisling. I shall ask her personally if she wants to undertake this mission. Lady Chancellor, plase make all preparations"

------

Afew hours later, and after a response was sent to the goverment of Iorcas confirming their participation in the meeting, a Dassault Falcon 7X with the Imperial seal and coat of arms of the Empire painted on it's side was on route towards Iorcas carrying a small detachement of guards and the two persons tasked with the representation of Valendia in this meeting: the Commissioner for New Prussia Rudolph Weiss and the Duchess of Alba and grandmother of the Emperor Elizabeth Fitz-James

[-Lorraine-]

Recieving confirmation of the Geletian arrival the next day, President Lee decided to go ahead and leave out for Iorcas the next day, seeing as the Nilosaharan issue was slowing to a crawl at the moment and he could maintain quick and easy communication with Richmond from Iorcas. Nothing was planned for several days anyways, so it owuld be easy to fit in.

As morning came, President Lee hurried himself aboard a small jet that would take him to Iorcas. A few hours later, he was landing at the Iorcan capital, eager to begin talks. With him, a small detachment of guards and advisors were with him, preparing him for the talks.

Back in Richmond, Vice-President Fredrick Gander was now calling the shots, watching out for issues that popped up and to continue handling the Nilosaharan mess that had developed. Constant communication with Lee was easy with Iorcas so close to Virginia.

[Iorcas]

Deciding to come back for the Geletians (it would surely be a few hours before they reached Iorcas), Demetriou smiled as the Virginian jet rolled crisply to a stop. As the stairway was dropped down, he strode over to its bottom, where he shook the hand of President Lee vigorously. "Welcome to Iorcas, Mr. President.", said he in excellent, if thickly accented, English. "I am Demetriou Anastasios, Minister of Foreign Relations, and I am overjoyed that you have come to our beautiful country!" He let go of the President's hand and gestured imperially at the limousine. The driver quickly opened the doors. "If you would please follow me, we can begin our journey to your housing for the conference." He pointed to the jeeps. "Your entourage can go with my underlings in these vehicles, please."

[Europe - Prussia]

Atheniaos, Iorcas

When the Iorcan authorities gave the proper clearance, the jet that was transporting the representatives of the Valendian goverment started to make a soft and smooth landing over the asphalt of the landing strip of the airport of Atheniaos. Meanwhile, inside the jet, the Duchess along the Commisioner were waiting patienly on their seats for the jet to stop.

Like in these kind of meetings, the goverment gave to the Duchess and the Commisioner dossiers with all the information that they had about Iorcas: their king, ministers, people, culture, their dealings with the pirates and much more. But not only the dossier had information about Iorcas, it had also information about the other two attendees to the meeting: Virginia and Beddgelert. After all Valendia was expecting much more from this meeting than a few economical agreements. When the jet finally stopped, both representatived stood up and walked towards the door, followed closely by the guards. When the stairs was in place, the door opened and the Duchess, along the Commisioner and followed by a few Valkyries and Knights started to walk down the stairs slowly while the Duchess was taking a sight of her surroundings and their hosts.

[Beddgelert]

After a long flight from Eastern Europe, a three-engined DAG-154 arrived in Athenaios wearing the colours of the national carrier, Aer Geletia, being one of almost six hundred civil aircraft available for military and government use as and when required by the Federal Democratic Republic. Braeden Apcarr disembarked wearing the military uniform to which his service as Chairman of the National Defence Commission during the First Republic of the 1980s entitled him. It was said that Apcarr, now Chairman of the Council of Ministers -making him presiding officer of the Democratic Alliance of Parties and Mass Organisations and as such essentially the leader of the federal parliament-, over-saw the 'de-Christianisation' of the armed forces in an efficient and thorough manner, which more than likely occassioned the execution of numerous suspected traitors. He'd begun to work with Chivo during the latter's time in the upper reaches of the intelligence service, and after a quarter century's co-operation with the current top-dog of Geletian politics Braeden was well placed to speak for Akink.

Still, he was perhaps one of the less well known amongst Beddgelert's political elite, a point emphasised by the fact that Apcarr was an incorrect name ascribed to him by a foreign journalist and run with for the sake of his relatively modest international profile. The Chairman's own opinions and indeed much of his personality remained difficult to pin down.


Braeden's honorary military status entitles him to wear the uniform of a Front Commander

[Iorcas]

At the airport, several limousines waited for the rest of the foreign diplomats. As the two jets touched down, Karukara Chaima, Monetary Officer of the Ministry of Foreign Relations, was there to greet them.

(A small note about the Monetary Officer: While it may seem strange that economic personnel can be easily substituted and often are for actual diplomats, if one looks deeper, it is not. It is tradition in Iorcas to train yourself in rhetoric, politeness, and even analytical psychology if you are becoming an economist. After all, he with the best people skills makes the most money.

Back to our story.)

Chaima cut a rather distinct figure, compared to Demetriou. Being a rare full-blooded Arawak and proud of it, he wore traditional tribal clothes. This, unfortunately, had a rather large disadvantage; the gun strapped under his arm was completely, fully visible.


Karukara Chaima

As the jets touched down on the runway, and their cargo exited, Chaima raised his hands in greeting and smiled a surprisingly white grin. He strode, first, towards, the Geletian group, and immediately seized Apcarr's hand, shaking it with seeming pleasure. "Greetings, Mr. Chairman! I am Karukara Chaima, a member of the Ministry of Foreign Relations and sent to bring you and..." He gestured towards the Valendians. "...your fine fellows to your housing for the conference." At the Valendian side, a junior diplomat was saying the same general thing to the Duchess. "Now, if you will follow me, we can be on our way." He snapped his fingers at the driver of his personal limousine; the man hurried to open it.

[Beddgelert]

This meeting was already sure to generate plenty of alarm in the Aventine countries, and if they wanted to play on the baser fears of the conservative Catholic populations, a journalist could do worse than to capture an image of Karukara Chaima in his tribal dress meeting a Geletian leader in military uniform flanked by a couple of six-foot-something Celtic warriors in their own regional and clan based stripes and cheques, to say nothing of the infamous Geletian warrior's mullet in which both wore their hair, or the largely ceremonial addition to Apcarr's waist of his family's ancestral falx.

Apcarr returned Chaima's handshake firmly and handed over, "a token of Beddgelert's friendship" in the form of a wooden engraving in the form of an Iorcan national seal, which he said had been carved from a fallen oak at the sacred grove of Drunaimedon, which any student of modern history would recognise as the capital of the old Geletian Triarchy and the location at which the Pact of Oak was concluded. That done, the Chairman and his small company wasted no more time in moving on as directed.

[Chemaki]

For one month Teyham the second sat on the Ghamadullan throne, in his large, wooden hut in the middle of this new concerete city. As the rickshaws passed by and traditional music blared from drums in the middle of the street, and as the large, Western skyscrapers - The only in the country - Somehow sheleted him and his whole tent, Teyham meditated on the options he should take to modernize the Hetmanate. A messanger knocked at the door of his hut, and Teyham nodded to his door guard. The wooden, ramshackle door opened to a dusty square right in the middle of the city, with the hundreds milling nearby falling to a hush and dropping on their knees in respect. The messanger handed him a scroll in a Arabic, which Teyham's guard read, quickly, then handed it to Teyham himself. The Hetman stepped out of the hut, to the crowd, and looked at the scroll, now unfurled. He nodded again to his guard, who gave it to the messenger. He stepped back in, and the door guard closed the door, the familiar hustle and bustle of the city now resuming. Teyham started to scribble a letter.

Fellow spreader of the Prophet's word, Demetrious Anastasios.
Through a Ghamadullan citizen who has watched your news network, I have heard about this meeting. The Hetmanate wishes to join, as I, following the bloody coup, wish to resolve many conflicts, primarily border disputes with Kemet and the Excharte, as well as to open the tribe, no, nation up to more offers and opportunities. I am prepared to travel to your fellow Islamic land as soon as it is possible, to meet you in person, and to discuss the future of Ghamadulla.
Hetman of the Enlightened Land, the Hetmanate of the Ghamadullans, Teyham II.

Teyham looked, blank-faced at the letter, and allowed himself a small grin. He has waited years for this, and now the opportunity has arisen, he finally has the power to grasp it. He nodded to the door guard, who raised a red flag outside the tent. Soon, a messenger would come, to send the letter, heavily re-written and adapted, before being translated, of course. Despite being such a simply country at heart, there was a massive amount of beaureucracy surrounding Teyham. He felt almost confined to this tribal hut, in the middle of this massive cultural city. He felt a bit sad, now.

OOC: Sorry it's so quick :<

[Iorcas]

OOC: It's fine.

IC: Karukara smiled wryly as he took the seal and tapped the side of his nose. Any astute Catholic journalist would immediately have took this as some sort of secret communication between the two diplomats. The Geletians and Karukara were quickly bundled into the limousine, while behind them, the Valendians were packed into their own. The limousine sped quickly through the city. Karukara had selected a particularly impressive route to their beachside huts, showing off Athenaios' impressive business district, counterbalanced by its neighbor the religious district. The beautifully decorated spires of the mosques were contrasted by cold, unfeeling steel. Karukara stayed mostly silent during the ride, except to inform the Geletians that "...King Wes has invited you to dinner tonight at his palace on Athenaios Mount." He pointed at the artificial hill that rose above the city. "The meetings, of course, will not begin tonight; rather, tomorrow." Finally, after around fifteen minutes of sights, the limousine reached a group of water-top huts.



"Chairman, you will be staying here." He gestured to the furthest, and largest hut, where a servant could be seen waiting at the door. "The rest of you will stay in the other two huts. My driver here will be happy to take you wherever you want to go. Just remember; in two hours, dinner at the palace." Karukara put his hand over his heart, an Iorcan gesture of fairwell, and walked up the beach, where another limousine could be seen waiting.

. . .

Meanwhile, back at the Ministry, Demetriou had quickly received the Ghamadullan letter; post was fast in Iorcas. As he read it, his eyes lit up with excitement and he snapped his fingers. His secretary quickly appeared by his side. "Write a response to this letter. Tell them the Hetman is gladly welcome in Iorcas for tomorrow's conference; also, tell Chaima to prepare another group of water-top huts for our new guests."

My fellow follower of Allah,

It is a pleasure to finally make contact with you and your nation. I and my king would happily welcome you in our nation; tomorrow, if possible. Tomorrow, we are opening a diplomatic conference between the former Oakist powers in Iorcas, and we would be most pleased if you could attend.

I do believe we have much to discuss.

With great thanks,
Demetriou Anastasios
Consul-General of Atlantis and Minister of Foreign Affairs

[Chemaki]

The next morning, Teyham left discreetly from his hut with a small bodyguard to roam the streets of the large, concrete jungle. Speakers were hung from every corner of every run-down flat, as they blared out the morning prayertime. Nobody was out as Teyham and his retinue hurried along in white robes across the city, boarding an armoured train that was purring quietly on the new rail tracks. Teyham nodded as he reached the station, the Arabic conductor leading him onto the train from the platform. Most of the staff in the station at this time were Arabic, the cultural and social elite, and Teyham felt uncomfortable in his granite-black skin. They ushered him into the train, each carriage protected by three inches of steel and several machine-gun slots on each side. After negociating his way through three of such carriages, the guns manned by black Southerners and Arabs, he came across his own personal carriage, where his new personal retinue waited for him, the Arabs dressed in white ceromonial robes, whilst the Ghamans were dressed in Khaki. Teyham couldn't help but notice the uncomfortable discimination in the Ghamadullan society, how the Arabs were the bankers and handled any deals with the West, how they spoke and wrote in Arabic, and how the Ghamans were mostly illiterate, the Ghaman lanuage only consisting of picture-symbols. They Ghamans farmed the land and worked jobs in the cities, whereas the Arabs contolled the government branches, and the very few corporations in the Hetmanate. Here, the Arabs were mostly officers, given clean AKs and pistols, whilst the Southern blacks manned the grubbly machine-guns. The few black Savahnnamen, totally unarmed, were given the lowest jobs; loading guns, catering for the soldiers, and the like.

Teyham's suite carriage was slightly wider than the others, and armoured most heavily, although any machine-gunners were on the roof above him which was covered in sandbags. Beyond the mahogony door of Teyham's suite, there was an open-topped carriage with a large quad-gun mounted precariously on it - Sandbags littered the cart where the walls should've been. Here, the Arabs stood, exposed fully to the desert wind as the train thundered along, speweing up smoke as it went. The suite itself was covered in wood and silk, with incense slowly burning by a bed made for Teyham. Two Arab janissary-style guards stood at each door, AKs gripped tightly and ceronomial sabres by their sides. Teyham sat on the bed, and read his Qu'ran for the next few hours until they reached the only military airbase, hidden in the Sahara.

1 day later...

Extract from Iorcas News Bulletin
Today the Ghamadullan Headman, Teyham the second, finally set foot on the soil outside his own sandy Ghamadullan savahnna. After years of isolation from the outside world, this new ruler has a lot to offer to the globe by stating ideas to modernize the Southern Mali and Nieger-affliated states, especially the Yumbash, Tekesh and Edrikumah states that lie on a coastline that straddles a large inlet just East of the Ivory Coast. Traditionally Sikh, Hindu and Christian Orthodox states, these three counties were traditionally the last bastion of the once-great Lesser Excharte, and now they are home to a host of foreign cultures. Teyham is hoping to use these states as a framework for his view on the rest of the Hetmanate, but it seems that all might not be going to plan. Our undercover correspondant in the Northern Juntau region reports that many anti-government riots and militant groups have sprung up over the past hours as old foes of Ghamadullan progress reform, such as the Jun'sun traditionalists, the Bhrekkar federation, and Ala'Khamba, a notorious insurgent group which has been growing for the past five years. Hopes still remain high for the South, though, even though conflicts in Juntau are estimated to displace as many as 1.3 million. A small price to pay for the modernization of 230 million?

[Iorcas]

OOC: Apologies, this is quite short. I didn't have much time to write it.

IC: Teyham was met at the airport by a still-neat Demetriou; he had finished taking the Virginians to their housing a little less than an hour ago, and it was quite a feat for him to have made it back in such record time, and clean, too! Still, it was tiring work, being a diplomat.

This meeting was to be set up quite differently than the others. Four barricaded areas had been set up on the runway, guarded by stony-faced Iorcan soldiers; in these areas, the fervent Muslims of Athenaios were waiting to see one of the two Muslim world leaders land in their country. Photographers flashed pictures of Demetriou, standing military-style in front of a fourth limousine, flanked by two junior diplomats. As the plane touched down on the runway, to the cheers of the Iorcans, Demetriou summoned his best smile and walked forward to the plane, where a stairway was being let down. As Teyham stepped regally down the stairs, Demetriou first bowed and then shook the Hetman's hand with a grin, much to the photojournalists' delight. "As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum and welcome to the Islamic Fisherman's Kingdom of Iorcas, Your Majesty. I am Demetriou Anasatasios, minister of Foreign Relations, and your recent correspondent. If you will follow me, I will take you and your retinue to your housing for the conference."

[Beddgelert]

Though commonly regarded as a people who know how to enjoy themselves, the Geletians in Iorcas seemed to have little time for the sand and sun. Chairman Apcarr was keen to press on with talks, and not shy about expressing this desire.

A new age was dawning, he said, and Beddgelert was going to get on with it. "We are here to decide who's coming along!"

(OOC: Thinly-veiled, "Is this thing on?" post)

[Iorcas]

OOC: I really, really, hope it is. I was just waiting for someone else to post....I might as well hurry it up a little. Would it be rude to sorta politely TG the other guys about this thread? Tell 'em not to forget?

IC: The sun sank quickly over the islands, as it always had. The city was a wonder at night, a shining gem of electrical marvels. And the greatest of them all was the the Peacock Palace, on Athenaios Mount. The palace was covered in shining, multi-colored, neon bulbs, turned and twisted into weird and marvelous shapes. A lot of electricity went into the palace; a waste, according to some. The glory of Iorcas, according to most. A limousine had arrived at each of the diplomats' and rulers' housing and smoothly driven them up to the palace, avoiding the more-traveled ways because of the nighttime traffic. Finally, they had arrived at the palace. At the great wooden door of the Peacock Palace stood a splendid sight; King Wes and his wife, Rebeka, were in front of the palace, Wes naked down to the waist, displaying his multifarious, ornate tattoos, while his legs were covered in golden silk pants. Rebeka was adorned with many jewels, while wearing the ornately embroidered Dress of the Queen. Wes, wearing a magnanimous smile, stepped down from the door way and shook the hands of each diplomat and ruler; "Greetings, and welcome to our fine little kingdom! It is a pleasure to meet you all. Please--come into the palace and let us eat and talk."

[Chemaki]

Whilst Teyham was enjoying himself in Iorcas, violent and disturbing events were happening in the Hetmanate. Extremists from the North have flooded into the volitile central states, stirring up larger and larger conflicts as they went. One of these conflicts was wired up into the lobby of the hotel, where Teyham and Demetriou were having an (unacceptably, according to the Ghamadullan social code) good time as they drank tea and chatted about the world issues surrounding the Islamic religion. Demetriou, as he did many times before, made a funny comment and both men laughed good-heartedly, the sour Ghamadullan khaki-uniformed guard looking at his Hetman scornfully. However, the article on the TV quickly grabbed all the men's attentions.

[Iorcas]

Demetriou, along with the Hetman, looked in shock at the bloody images shown on the television. Innocent Ghamadullans being slain in the streets by extremists; a baby's inert body could be seen on the street. The Minister slowly put down his cup, trying to keep his hand from shaking. He had never been one for blood and violence. Indeed, his parents had once wanted him to be a doctor, but when he had fainted after his brother's arm was scraped, they decided against it. Demetriou, his face pale, turned away from the screen to the Hetman's face, which was set in a stern, almost angry expression. "What...what do you plan to do about this?"

[Chemaki]

The Hetman looked hopelessly at Demetriou, then looked back at the television, the scene changing to one of Khaki-covered soldiers wearing Green Armbands marching down a dusty city street - This is a far cry from the small elite army and the many armed civilians that make up the whole of Ghamadulla's resource pool.

"The outcome of these recent attacks have prompted a pro-Islamic pro-extremist pro-violence movement, the Green Belt, to sprout up in the sub-saharan North State of Juntau, as well as many of the smaller, newer central states formed after 1930 and 1960 respectively, when the Junt government tried to usurp the Mali and Nieger governments with catastrophic effects. These regions, although retaining unique cultures which have florushed in post-Juntau rule, are extremely violent, holding the national Isgham subsect religion (The closest subsect to the original Islamic religion) nearly as high as the Junt themselves. The green-belts opt for a pro-conquest movement, hoping to crush the small state of Jeruhabalem, lying to the immediate West of the Ghamadullan Hetmanate and being a major centre for both Jewish and Christian refugees from the same conquests which have driven the formation of the Ghamadullan empire. Similarly, a campaign of hate is being launched against the more tolerant Southern States, where Christian, Hindu and, most predominantly, Sikh substates and communities around the Ivory coast have been put in numerous labour camps and prisons for their views.

Another part of the Green Belts' master plan, this one involving input from the notorious terror and insurgent organization, Allah Akkabara, is to salvage many Muslim refugee communities in Darfur, reclaiming the area under Juntau's grasp. An extermination of the Khandish, and to a similar extent, Bedou tribes has also been called in order, bringing great shock and dismay to many African nations. The Green Belt is getting a lot of support from the local community which upholds many Juntau ideals, and, in this current political climate, a strong anti-reform revolution."

[-Lorraine-]

OOC: yeah still kickin just got to check in now, not much but just saying im still watchin


The president was awed since the firs step off the plane, taking in the beauty of Iorcas. Even the nightlife seemed to attract him. It was an unusual sight, usually only seen in vibrant cities on the coast, but in Iorcas it seemed to be everywhere.

At the palace, the impressive tattoos made Lee chuckle to himself. While the European Catholics prided themselves in their "civilized" status, the Americas seemed to always do things differently, just the way Lee liked to have it. When he got the he noticed that other diplomats had already arrived. He was earger to get to know these leaders, and bring them a little closer together.

[Iorcas]

OOC: Just waiting for BG and the other V...

[Cassanos]

[OOC]Bump: Will the Iorcan government allow the Nibelung ambassador to attend at least part of the conference as an observer?[/OOC]

[Iorcas]

OOC: Yeah, sure. Do you think it would be rude to, like, PM BG and EP about this?

[Beth Gellert]

OOC: I think this is learning the hard way that after seven years in NS, some of us have been to more conferences than we can count, and since we've already posted our arrival and introduced our characters, we'd rather wait for something to happen rather than make another token three line let's move on post

And now on to scene 24. A smashing scene with some lovely acting, in which Arthur discovers a vital clue, and in which there aren't any swallows, though I think you can hear a starling...