The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[Whovian Tardisia]

The banging on the door of the box - which was surprisingly roomy inside - caused by Chuckie's head banging into it repeatedly, scared the living daylights out of Ambassador Pink. He began rummaging through the assorted junk that he had acquired during the course of his political career, and found just what he was looking for: an electronic gun jammer. It made the bullets within the gun being targeted expand until they were too big to leave the muzzle. He then slowly crept up to the door, unlocked it, and braced himself...
(OOC: You assumed correctly)

[Adab]

Eannatum Enki, Ambassador of Adab to the World Assembly, walked calmly into the bar for perhaps the millionth time. Probably, for he had lost count long, long ago. Not caring much about all the chaos, commotion, and chatter going on around him, the bored-looking ambassador sat down on a corner of the bar and opened his laptop. He intended to write a message to Emperor Tizqar III.

"French fries, please!" shouted Enki. Maybe eating would lessen his boredom.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

The banging on the door of the box - which was surprisingly roomy inside - caused by Chuckie's head banging into it repeatedly, scared the living daylights out of Ambassador Pink. He began rummaging through the assorted junk that he had acquired during the course of his political career, and found just what he was looking for: an electronic gun jammer. It made the bullets within the gun being targeted expand until they were too big to leave the muzzle. He then slowly crept up to the door, unlocked it, and braced himself...
(OOC: You assumed correctly)

Steph gazes at the hullabaloo over the rim of her Clown Nose Battlestar Ale, and, glancing aside at the nearest weapons nullifier, asks it sarcastically, "Anything you wanna tell me?"

She brushes back her coat and unholsters her 12-mm rocket pistol, leaving the safety on. Setting the multi-function laser/rangefinder to 650-nanometer sighting mode, she aims the weapon at the floor in front of her and thumbs the laser stud, making a tiny, intense red dot. Looks about right. You could present the shit out of some fuckin' PowerPoint^TM with this bitch if you took a fancy.

Steph ducks involuntarily as a couple of bullets whiz past her shoulder. "Christ, just how many goddamn rounds does that thing carry?" Grabbing some peanuts from the bartop, she drops to the floor and begins crouch-walking toward the Ainocran weapons depot cart, which is the most solid-looking thing in the room. Managing to take cover behind it, she reaches her weapon hand around the corner of the cart, points the sidearm at the metal fairing covering the side, and presses the laser button.

"Right. When he hits, one of us can grab that damn rifle off him, huh? Ready? OK."

"Chuckie, KILL!"

ETA, OOC: Obviously Steph's not aware of Pink's preparations, being behind closed doors & all. Just realized this might read like I'm trying to override you, which isn't my intent.

[Ainocra]

Hearing the question Alcon grins. "Well that's the beauty of it, with our new micro replicator technology and long lasting antimatter cartridge power, it can fire continually for almost a month before needing a new power cartridge."

[Vancouvia]

Ambassador Abraham Milton walks into the bar. "Ouch," he says, before staring into a chant: "We want a vote, we want a vote."

[Imperium of Tanith]

Ambassador Micheal Valois walks in, unfazed by the bullets flying all over the room as he sits down. "Barman, an Irish Car Bomb, if you would." He taps on the bar.

[Separatist Peoples]

Seeing Steph charge up her rocket pistol, Bell took the time to kill two birds with one stone. Leaping out from his cover, bell took a running start and jumped in the dragging rifle. His momentum took it across the polished wood floor, Bell balanced on the sliding weapon, still burping a few rounds into the crowd. As he nears the Vancouvian ambassador, he jumps off the rifle, kicking it into the waiting arms of Neville, tackles the obnoxious ambassador, somersaults, and throws him heartily out the window.

Walking back to Chuckie, he grabs the oblivious goat by the scrub of his neck and drags him into the middle of the crowd.

"I'm crowd sourcing the punishment. Don't kill my goat."

Settling at the bar, still ignoring the happy bleating of the goat, Bell orders a whiskey and glances at the broken window the Vancouvian ambassador had been defenestrated from.

"Talk about annoying, man. Neville, how do you tolerate that crap? I hope you raise their drink prices by threefold in compensation."

[Vancouvia]

stop godmodding, my ambassador is a trained kung wu-ate expert and would never put himself in a position to be knocked out of windows. your constant attacks on my ambassadors are NOT appreciated NOR warranted NOR conducive for a good RP

[Separatist Peoples]

stop godmodding, my ambassador is a trained kung wu-ate expert and would never put himself in a position to be knocked out of windows. your constant attacks on my ambassadors are NOT appreciated NOR warranted NOR conducive for a good RP

OOC: defenestration is a tradition in the GA. Maybe if you stopped spamming "WE WANA VOTE!!1" and actually attempted real Roleplay, you wouldn't get defenestrated.

And use some fucking OOC tags.

[Vancouvia]

stop godmodding, my ambassador is a trained kung wu-ate expert and would never put himself in a position to be knocked out of windows. your constant attacks on my ambassadors are NOT appreciated NOR warranted NOR conducive for a good RP

OOC: defenestration is a tradition in the GA. Maybe if you stopped spamming "WE WANA VOTE!!1" and actually attempted real Roleplay, you wouldn't get defenestrated.

And use some fucking OOC tags.

It doesn't matter that it's tradition; it's godmodding to force actions onto someone else's character, and your specific targeting of me needs to end

[Separatist Peoples]

OOC: defenestration is a tradition in the GA. Maybe if you stopped spamming "WE WANA VOTE!!1" and actually attempted real Roleplay, you wouldn't get defenestrated.

And use some fucking OOC tags.

It doesn't matter that it's tradition; it's godmodding to force actions onto someone else's character, and your specific targeting of me needs to end

OOC: no, godmodding would be pretending your ambassador died from the defenestration, or took injury. I leave that to you. It's no more godmodding than Roleplaying a soldier shooting at another is. Like I said, I'll quit the defenestration when you have something more than "WE WANNA VOTE!" to add.

You still aren't using IC/OOC tags, by the way.

[Vancouvia]

It doesn't matter that it's tradition; it's godmodding to force actions onto someone else's character, and your specific targeting of me needs to end

OOC: no, godmodding would be pretending your ambassador died from the defenestration, or took injury. I leave that to you. It's no more godmodding than Roleplaying a soldier shooting at another is. Like I said, I'll quit the defenestration when you have something more than "WE WANNA VOTE!" to add.

You still aren't using IC/OOC tags, by the way.

No, it's godmodding to say the consequences to what happens after you begin the action of trying to push me out a window. You can roleplay that your soldier shoots at mine, but you don't get to say the bullet hit me, and by saying that I actually went out the window is equivalent to saying that the bullet hit. My character has the ability to resist the attack and skipping over that period of time altogether is godmodding.

And no, you don't get to try to extort me with your concentrated bad-spirited RP attacks just because you believe my RP is too low quality for you. I get to have fun having silly characters say silly things without being subject to your godmod attacks on my character. I'd suggest you didn't even talk to my character at all; I'm sure it's a big bar and your specific targeting of me is way out of bounds, even overlooking the godmodding.

[Separatist Peoples]

No, it's godmodding to say the consequences to what happens after you begin the action of trying to push me out a window. You can roleplay that your soldier shoots at mine, but you don't get to say the bullet hit me, and by saying that I actually went out the window is equivalent to saying that the bullet hit. My character has the ability to resist the attack and skipping over that period of time altogether is godmodding.

And no, you don't get to try to extort me with your concentrated bad-spirited RP attacks just because you believe my RP is too low quality for you. I get to have fun having silly characters say silly things without being subject to your godmod attacks on my character. I'd suggest you didn't even talk to my character at all; I'm sure it's a big bar and your specific targeting of me is way out of bounds, even overlooking the godmodding.

OOC: since the best thing you can say about your own RP is that it isn't strictly against the rules, so you won't stop, there isn't much that can be done. Bad RP isn't against the rules, so I suppose there's nothing for it but to allow the clutter in.

But hey, I'm sure everybody appreciates the added mess. After all, if it makes you happy...

IC: Bell waves over Neville and calls out to the remaining ambassadors, "Whoever figures out the most ridiculous way of punishing that goat without killing him gets a prize. Neville, grab one of those bottles of scotch? The nice ones? Yes, that's it!"

Bell takes the bottle and sets it on the bar. "Tada!"

[Caracasus]

A fairly drunk member of the Caracasusian WA council peeks out from behind the wooden partition of one of the darker, more remote booths and focuses for long enough to take in the scene. The back booth occupied by the Caracasusians as a rule had remained fairly sheltered from the rifle fire. The goat appeared to look forlorn and perhaps a little sorry for itself.

"Paint it black and yellow, stick some wings to it and call it a bumblebee!"

One of the other Caracausians pipes up - this one an intern

"Stick it in a flower patch and shout at it until it makes honey!"

[Sierra Lyricalia]

"Punishing him?!? That's the most fun I've had here in weeks!"

Steph toggles the laser sight off and breaks her cover to stand up, walk over, and hold her handful of peanuts under Chuckie's nose. "Who's a good boy, huh? I'm only sorry you couldn't put a few holes in the ambassador's ridiculous hat before he went out the window again."

She eyes the bar jealously, but resigns herself to continuing without and adopts an optimistic expression as she holsters her weapon. "Much as I'd love to get my hands on that bottle, I won't be party to punishing an animal that brings us all such joy. Mind you, if he is ever up for slaughter I will happily cut and cook him myself, but if we're not gonna slowly spit-roast the poor fella, there's no sense being needlessly cruel."

Steph turns away and resumes her seat at the bar, taking a sip of her miraculously unharmed - and still cold! - beer.

[Wrapper]

(Wad Ari and Wad Ahume, who have been on the verge of entering the bar, stand frozen in the doorway, witnessing the carnage. They look at each other, shake their heads sadly, and turn away from the bar, until they hear:

Whoever figures out the most ridiculous way of punishing that goat without killing him gets a prize.

Not ones to back down from such a challenge, they turn around in unison and enter the bar. Ahume, in an uncomfortably loud voice, says, "Vancouvian poetry!" Ari shakes his head.)

Vogon, you dork, that's Vogon poetry. No, the best punishment would be... to incorporate him into our karaoke act.

(Ahume looks at Ari strangely... but then a smile slowly creeps across his face, and he nods.)

[Whovian Tardisia]

Ambassador Pink finally summoned the guts required to bust out the door of the box, only to discover the goat subdued and Ambassador Bell presenting a wager. Pink grabbed the goat and was about to take it into the box, but then he heard the Carcausian delegate's suggestion. Dropping the goat, he went back into the box to find some paint.

[Alqania]

"Name him Ambassador", suggested Princess Christine, emerging from the bathroom. "If there isn't a spot in the GA, how about sending him to Vancouvia?"

The young Princess gracefully stepped over something - or someone - on the floor and returned to the bar, where apparently an Irish coffee was still hot and waiting for her. Perhaps an inquisitive patron would wonder just how long she had been in the bathroom, and an Alqanian might wonder why she had been there at all - weren't bathroom breaks infra dignitatem for Princesses? Noting a blue box-like addition to the décor, the Deputy Ambassador reclaimed her seat and felt a most uncomfortable draft.

"Who opened the window?" she half-muttered, half-asked in nobody's general direction.

[Imperium of Tanith]

Ambassador Michael looks lazily outside at the defenestration before going back to his drink. "Heh, you lads must've missed when I defenestrated a man not once, but twice when he came in here to try preaching and stirring up trouble." He says before downing his glass "Now THAT, was a sight to see, 250+ pound man going through such a tiny window." He chuckles, shaking his head before ordering another drink.

[Whovian Tardisia]

Pink re-emerges from the box with two tins of paint, one black, one yellow. He places them on the table of the Caracausian delegation. He then walks up to the bar and orders some scotch.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

IC: Bell waves over Neville and calls out to the remaining ambassadors, "Whoever figures out the most ridiculous way of punishing that goat without killing him gets a prize. Neville, grab one of those bottles of scotch? The nice ones? Yes, that's it!"

Bell takes the bottle and sets it on the bar. "Tada!"

"Oh, what the hell. I want that bottle and the lackluster response is kind of sad."

"Dress that goat up in an Ainocran flag bikini and indenture him to the Fleet Marshal for a couple of days, try to get him to pose suggestively next to some of the more elaborate weapons. Maybe keep them unloaded from now on??? But if he chews off both pieces in one sitting, he gets to go free."

[Separatist Peoples]

"Aha! Sending the lout to the Vancouvians would be the worst punishment I could think of! Your Majesty, I think you win the prize!"

Bell bows deeply and hands the Princess Christine the bottle. "With beauty matching such a penchant for creative punishments, your Ladyship must rule over the very paragons of lawful citizenry."

Settling down in his usual spot, near Steph and Alcon, Bell waves over for a considerably less fancy drink. "Though, I must say," he says to Steph, "I'll probably let the gentleman in the box paint him up. Even I'm not that cruel to animals, and Chuckie is the very embodiment of a GAR#8 violation himself. Your idea was inspired, though. Horribly, horribly inspired."

[Ainocra]

Alcon chuckles at the suggestion. "I'm pretty sure I can find said bikini somewhere, give me a little time to search."
Raising his glass he call out. "To the acting mascot of the Ainocran fleet, Chuckie!"

[Kingdom of the Polar Bear]

Aurora just looked around the room like, "Wow, then again, its the Strangers Bar, its always weird in here"

[Herby]

Herby enters in low gear -- he recalls what happened last time, how pissed off Neville was, when he left skid marks on the floors -- and coasts up to the bar.

"Fill 'er up, Everclear, please."

He notices how quiet the bar has been lately. A small burst of air eases out of a tire, much like a sigh. Wow, he thinks, this place just isn't the same since the goat had left, since the Kennyites mellowed out, since the Vancouvians got defenestrated, since the Wads stopped practicing their karaoke, since... since....

The left edge of his front bumper raises a bit, like a smirk.

"Thanks, Neville. Put it on my tab."

He revs the engine. The bartender freezes, but soon shakes his head. Herby's front end bobs up and down as if to nod...

...and, as a brief puff of black smoke belches from his exhaust pipe, he peals out of the bar, weaving between (and barely missing) patrons on his way out. Let them eat skid marks, he thinks to himself.