Yugostavian Banquet (PFQ Only!)

[Yugostav]

All nations are invited. The Führer is holding a banquet to celebrate Yugostavs establishment, you are alowed to bring a max of five guests.

[Galoresa]

Джим City, Yugostav

It had been less than an hour since they had set foot on Yugostavian Soil. Anbidian was eyeing up Lioba, who was wincing at Halwende's casually Racist arguments with Wissian about his experience in the Oðru Firengūð, all the while, the group had neglected to prevent Selwyn from becoming slightly drunk off of his Liquor. Off to a fantastic start, as they traipsed through the Fascist Bastion of Lofty Concrete that was Джим City, eager only to settle in for the Night so that they may be ready for the Banquet in the morning.

At the Front of the pack, advancing through the Concrete Jungle as the shimmering fireball of the sky had begun to buckle and dive, descending on the horizon, leaving Dusk to cast its veil over this part of the World, was Halwende, being the most absent-minded at that point, and so wasn't paying attention to how fast he was walking. A confident stride for such a fine Gentleman. He was a man of a tall, sturdy figure that supported a matured appearance of slight wrinkling and an overall "droopy" characteristic to his face, spouting grey hair from atop his scalp, and a fair streamlined sprawl above his upper lip.

Behind him was the comparatively shorter Wissian, who was trailing to the left of the Old Bull, trudging grumpily nearest to the curb of the pavement. He was a near polar opposite of his Aged Companion. Young, Buoyant of Feature, with a Fair-hued Mop atop his scalp, messily tossed to one side. In front of his Scowl, a thin black metal frame suspended two rectangular lenses in front of his eyes, occasionally reflecting a flash, originating from the luminous glow of the streetlights that gradually blinked into life.

Behind him and to the right were Lioba and Anbidian, the latter of whom had insisted that he be by her side, as per Gentlemanly conduct. At the left of the two, Anbidian dwarfed the Raven-haired Female. His own sharp aspect owing to his sturdy jawline and cheekbones like chestnuts. A clean wave of Dirty Blonde reeled up and to the right, seemingly at the will of his forehead in an impressive suspension. He was proud of his Refined bulk. It wasn't clear through his Regal attire, but his Shoulders and Collarbone would be a defence not even Belisarius could intimidate. A Torso as sturdy as Iron filled in the gaps between the mounds of Flesh he called his Arms. He seemed somewhat overly-attentive in his pacing. So much so, that perhaps he was even neglecting focus on the whole scene.

Lioba took no notice of any of the lot. She was having too much fun in her own mind. A Grin was pasted onto the plump red lumps of flesh that guarded her Mouth, making her stand out to the rest of the crowd as she timidly shuffled along. She was a Dainty being, in Body and Soul. Her Jaw was nowhere near as Powerful as the Prince's, instead being remarkably Gentle and Inoffensive. The flanks of her skull were of little mass. A very sculpted creature, Lioba. Delicate, too. Arms like String Beans and hands like the Paws of a Kitten. Similar story with her other limbs. From her Head, conforming ranks of Black flowed out and downwards, ticking her dinky shoulders and smooth back, rebelling evermore as they descended. Streaks overlapped and bent like ribbons, once they were free from the Marshall of her Skull.

Finally, at the back was Selwyn. Tallest of the Bunch, with but skin and bone to his frame. Hair as dark as Lioba's, despite a wildly Curious and Gingery Personality dwelling within him. The bluest eyes set themselves deep in their sockets, contrasting with the bland slab that surrounded them, which in turn cultivated an unstyled bridge of hair above his upper lip. In a way, that made him stand out somehow. Perhaps it was his concerningly dated hairstyle, that parted in the middle, and formed a valley stop his scalp or the certain angle that sharpened his every feature. Selwyn, having been abandoned by his Fine Motor skills, stumbled around at the Rear of the group, making an apathetic effort to keep up. He didn't really care if they were ahead of him.

It was almost Nightfall by the time they reached their Accommodation. Halwende fiddled with the shimmering silver of the keys whilst stood in front of the door as Wissian leant against the adjacent railing, with folded arms. To their left were Anbidian and Lioba, stood patiently and reservedly, quietly observing whilst Selwyn could be seen blundering around a few metres behind them, apparently fed up with his own kinetic dysfunction, if you judged by the look strewn across his face. Finally, the door gave in after a few promising clicks and the Cadre herded themselves into their Shelter.

Halwende, Anbidian and Lioba were to lay dormant in 3 separate and confined spaces, devoid of most colour and style. Wissian slept on the weary brown leather shaped like a Sofa whilst Selwyn lay strewn out on the grey tacky carpet in a most ungraceful position a few metres from his Blonde-haired acquaintance. It had been decided that Monarchial Regalism was not to be sought out by the Cadre, as to not stand out.

In the Morning, they would represent their whole Nation at the Banquet.

[Yugostav]

Джим city

As the sun rises the capital begins bustling with activity. Guards take their posts, servants set tables and clean, and government officials work and plan. The Führer is among them making sure everything is going to plan for tonight's banquet. His generals are scattered about the capital talking and exchanging story's.

[Galoresa]

Джим City, Yugostav

The Morning was a different experience for everyone, divergence varying on an individual basis. It was 9am. Halwende was still asleep, as was Wissian in a manner that perhaps bridged a little bit of the gap between them, at least as far as mannerisms went. Anbidian was experiencing what he thought was the liberating experience of Ice Cold water Cascading down onto his Flesh in the Bathroom whilst Lioba delicately slathered a bright red gloss onto her nails in her quarters. Selwyn was dragging his aching frame across the floor, soon to be quite upset by the unavailability of the Bathroom, on account of his Stomach being insistent that it didn't want what was inside of it. Funnily enough, technically he was the one that controlled what happened next. Had he not bumped his noggin onto the wooden composure of the Bathroom door and released the muffled shout, sounding a bit like "Ne mæg mīn līchama wiþ dēaþ gedǣlan! (I cannot escape death)" , perhaps Lioba would not have popped her head out of the doorway to take pity upon the gastrointestinally-troubled Inventor, prompting her to waddle to his side, squatting at his flank. Burying the lower half of her face in her own knees as a sort of projectile vomit-shield, she extended one of her insubstantial limbs to his torso, anxiously pawing at his back. Then, grunting and gurgling, Selwyn managed to utter a response, squirming as he did so. "Āspīwe (Vomit, specifically the Verb form)", he stuttered, pushing with his left hand on the floor to turn and face Lioba. Alarmed, she lurched away, ending up rolling onto her back. Selwyn then returned to pressing his head against the door, perhaps trying to keep it down. A few surprisingly tranquil seconds passed before Lioba's panic waned somewhat. Enough to act, anyway.

Like a startled cat, she clambered to stand and hurriedly dashed around the claustrophobic cream-coloured walls of the complex, eventually scampering into what could be argued was a kitchen. A lone window acted as a Crutch for light to be skewed in through the blinds, bouncing off of the crowded set of cupboards, compacted above and below, cleaved by an Oven and a Sink. The sound changed from muffled tapping on the carpet to Cold Ceramic, releasing sticky pitter-patter sounds as the Soles of Lioba's feet daintily drummed along it. At the metal basin, loomed over by a chrome-tinted spout, one could look below to see two white panels, adorned with a vertical black arch, bolted near one another at the centre. Upon parting them, Lioba set her eyes upon an Aluminium-cast bucket, sat conveniently at the front of the various objects cluttering the cavity. With great haste, the pitter-pattering picked up again and soon enough, she was staring once again at Selwyn, whom was still Catatonic. She once again shuffled to his side and plonked the bucket down next to him. Another quaint few moments flew by, in which Lioba resumed nervous observation of the Engineer before a clicking sound came from the door...In immediate succession, the door drifted open and carried Selwyn's head to thud onto the flooring. Above him towered Prince Anbidian, who was clad in the very unregal attire of a White t-shirt, grey hoodie and Jeans, having brought his clothes with him into the Bathroom like he always did.

He stared at Selwyn for a brief moment before snapping his gaze to Lioba, who lent a blank stare back at him, lips level and eyes empty. "Rough Night..." the Prince remarked when he turned his attention back to the husk of a man strewn out in front of him. He then stepped to the side and out of the Bathroom as to allow him to drag his body through to the toilet, making Lioba's efforts redundant. Outside, faint cracking and whizzing could be heard. The curious Lioba might have sheepishly peeked out of the window to inspect, yet she seemed oddly and mutely concerned with Selwyn's predicament, much like a curious feline. She even waited outside the door for him. Soon enough, the whizzing and popping was drowned out by the heaving of Selwyn, permeating the area and abruptly awakening both Wissian and Halwende. The latter of whom was the first to respond despite being the furthest away.

"Bloody Hell, I've not awoken to such a racket since Grenarst! Keep it Civil for God's sake, we're supposed to be engaging in diplomacy mere hours from now!" The disgruntled Nobleman then sternly trudged to go about his own morning routine, too dull to bother with conveying it through literature. Finally, Wissian became animate, having been simply dozing around on the brown lump of a sofa backed up against a wall in the room. Rubbing one side of his face, he pulled his frame up and off of his back. The first thing he laid eyes upon was Lioba. Postured on the Floor like a Siren, putting her weight onto her outstretched left arm, with her body flowing to the ground at her hip, leading onto her Knees, which bent to curve her legs behind her. Wissian would have to wait for both Selwyn and Halwende to complete their own Preparations for the day before initiating his own, on account of the fact that there weren't enough facilities to meet the number of people that needed to use them.

By perhaps Midday, Selwyn's Hangover would pass and everyone will have gotten their Physiological preparations complete. But for now, the disjointed dysfunction would drag on. Anbidian would go for a Walk to circumvent being involved in it all, Halwende would prepare his attire for the Banquet, Wissian would assuage his Hunger, Selwyn would remain bound to the bog and finally, Lioba would be there to make sure he was okay. Aristocratic Etiquette was difficult to uphold alone, it seemed.

[Yugostav]

Джим city, Yugostav

After seeing the preparations for the Banquet the Führer travels up to his office on the 7th floor. He locks the door behind him and begins to get undressed to put on what he will wear for the banquet. It is a white Yugostavian generals jacket with black slacks, dress shoes and a generals hat. To tie it all together he sports a red Yugostavian eagle arm band which is outlined in gold.



Afterwards he is accompanied by two guards in the rose garden behind the capital building for relaxation. The guards carry Mosin Nagants which is the Yugostavian ceremonial rifle. He sits on a bench near some rose bushes and begins to wonder what tonight will bring.

[Galoresa]

Джим City, Yugostav

Anbidian, with his hands tucked into the Pocket-like pouches at the front of his Hoodie, his neck bent forwards and eyes glazing over the revolving pattern of rectangular grey that formed the pavement, invaded by the piston-like revolutions of his legs moving into frame, allowed his mind to machinate freely...From what he had seen of Yugostav, he was the only one really allowed to do so. His glancing around the Ranks of Pillar and Frame that formed the City revealed an unsettlingly Totalitarian Atmosphere. The Citizenry here were all Clad in a Brown Melancholy Cloth, bordered and bound by black swathe at the legs. Also a noteworthy feature was the Infamous Black Angular Insignia of perhaps the most Notorious figure of Fascism. It's Arms expanding and snapping at 90 degrees in all directions, pasted onto a white background, encircled by red. The band wrapped around the left arm. That Whizzing and Popping earlier was apparently how the Yugostavian youth entertained themselves. Flashes of Light frothed forth from the ends of the pyrotechnics the Children were so keen on setting off.

It no longer phased the Prince after a few minutes. He simply traipsed onwards. This gave him time to let his mind tick over. He couldn't quite concentrate on thinking about the Banquet at first, instead being drawn to investing his thought into his peers. They were quite a set. Perhaps the contrast between them was too great and would skew the whole Galoresan representation. Perhaps it was best not to think about it. What then wrestled with his Mind was what to expect of the Banquet. The whole thing was sort of a Wildcard, with no clear purpose other than Celebration. Perhaps it was best to let Halwende conduct most of the Ulterior Enterprise and simply enjoy the event as a Guest. Andibidan liked that thought. However, he thought about Halwende's Situation more. The Lord in question was the Owner of Vekel Shipping, operating out of Ēastengle (East Anglia), Middleseaxan (Middlesex/Greater London) and Cantia (Kent) respectively. He was eager to make a pretty penny from Commerce, being rather fond on both the financial gain and the benefit to the State. It would also benefit Yugostavian Trade, given the fact that...They have no ports...Anbidian paused at this thought. With no Ports, how would they trade? Soon enough, he realised they'd have to go through Uqbaristan. That presented no issue at first glance, being in the Axis, he was sure they'd be okay with a limited amount Galoresan Trade moving through their territory...But Galoresan Nobles and Large-scale operations of Private Property in their Country? Perhaps too much to ask of them. Then this led to another thought. They'd need a Logistics Company to shift Vekel Goods up through to the intended recipient. In addition to this, the border between Uqbaristan and Yugostav was quite thin. Its capacity to handle such trade was doubtable. They'd need some decent infrastructure Investment. Fortunately, they had Selwyn, who had many contacts in the Engineering World and could probably drum up a Team for the Project. Then, the Prince's mind circled back around to the issue of operating in Uqbaristan. Galoresan Companies would need to convince the Uqbaristani Government to allow them to undertake massive efforts in their nation and use their Railways. Soon enough, he'd worked himself up. No longer enjoying his Walk, he started to head back. The whole thing was complicated, but selling goods to an isolated country like Yugostav was a good opportunity, at the Baseline consideration.

By the time the Prince returned, he would hope to see the Cadre in a State ready for the Banquet. He'd also have to have a chat with Halwende and Selwyn about his recent Musings.

[Yugostav]

Джим city, Yugostav

A military parade marchs down the streets in celebration, with blaring trumpets and trombones, beating drums, and crashing of cymbals in the back.in the front is 450 military personnel in dress uniform. Citizens are lined on the sidewalk to watch. Finally a national symbol passes by heading towards the capital building for the banquet. A Yugostavian flag soaked with the blood of the first Yugostavian Führer. As it passes citizens they snap into a Yugostavian salute.

[Twillis]

Джим city, Yugostav

In the Imperial Jet high in the sky Imperial Chancellor Twillis is running late to the Yugostavian Banquet. Normally a man arriving early the imperial Chancellor had been delayed by a storm over The Imperial Confederacy. As the jet begins to make its final approach it begins hailing Yugostavian Air control for landing path.

"This is Captain Julian of the Imperial Jet of The Imperial Confederacy requesting permission to land and a flight path. We have the Imperial Chancellor on board."

Flanked by an escort of four f-15 fighter jets the 747 jumbo jet awaits conformation and a flight path.

Imperial Chancellors Mobile Office
"Samuels please prepare a bottle of our finest wine for Führer Джим Hitler, we are running late already i don't want to further embarrass myself and appear rude." Imperial Chancellor said as he dressed in his Twillisian Armed Forces dress uniform, a pair of black pants and a royal blue dress jacket, a series of medals decorate the left side and a golden laurel upon his head.
"Of course Imperial Chancellor, ill have one of your vintages prepared along with a box of cigars from Arcadia." The young aid said as he ready the pair of gifts.

"Good thinking, have Captain Emile and her team ready for when we land we need to show them our proudest sons and daughters as we head to the Banquet."

[Qasheer]

Джим City, Yugostav
"Ahhh~ What a nice day for a nation that is under a dictator..." Nor Jess Abdullah stepped out from her private jet. She was with her trusty assistant, Ahmed. "So, what is in my schedule?" she asked while gazing into the stunning view around the airport. Advance she thought unlike other places that she visited under a dictator. "Surprisingly, you only need to visit Fuhrer Джим..." he said studying a tablet with a to-do-list. "How could you pronounce that word?" she asked playfully. "There's no such thing in our education right?"

Ahmed laughed. Behind her, her beloved nephew, Jordan. She bringing him here so that he could learn a few about politics and foreign's relationship. It wasn't that surprising for politician to bring their family members, sons, daughters, nieces nor nephews to work in Qasheer. Hope it is not that surprising to this foreign land. If they really have 'politician' though. It is weird thinking that, for what it seem an eternity, Qasheer hasn't contact with this nation, and this is the first time in history. She wish that everything that is stated in Qasheer about this nation is false. Because every facts seem unlikely.

[Yugostav]

Führer Джим looking from the capital building can see planes landing at the airport.
"Well it seems as though our guests are arriving" he says with a smile on his face.

"Yugostav has much to offer for any visitor my Führer, this will be a grand experience for them" replies a Guard

"Yes it does, and hopefully they will want to be allies and not come to our door step and cause problems"said Führer Джим in a worried tone

"My Führer"said the guard"I don't feel like they would do such a thing,besides why would they come to us to do that?"

"I guess your right" replied the Führer "we will just have to see what happens"

[Twillis]

At the Yugostavian's Capital Airport the Imperial Jet had finally landed, the main doors opening the Imperial Honor Guard took their positions upon the steps. The top most I.H.G. on the right held a banner carrying the flag of the Imperial Confederacy, the Imperial Eagles talon grasping for the stars upon a field of royal blue. The I.H.G. to his left carried a banner flying the personal seal of Imperial Chancellor Twillis, a twin pair of eagle heads the head looking to the left wounded and blinded the head looking to the right armored a fierce, a golden laurel surrounding them. Stepping next out of the plane a woman wearing the uniform of the Imperial Honor Guard, obsidian black BDU pants and shirt, navy blue plate carrier and pouches and the symbol of the I.C. in the center, looking around she looks back into the jet and nods before stepping off the stairs. The next person to leave the jet steps out head held high and shoulders square, wearing a dress uniform with a golden laurel upon his head, this is Imperial Chancellor Twillis who takes in the sights and smells of the airport.

"Ahhh been too long since ive gotten to leave the Confederacy, ive missed diplomatic missions." The Chancellor's voice is firm but filled with genuine joy.

"Well sir im sure this banquet will be one hell of a time, i just hope the Yugostavians don't try anything." Captain Emile says as she stands at the bottom of the stairs.

"Im sure everything will be fine, we are a neutral nation after all, atkeast as far as the council sees it. If the Confederacy is to progress we will need friends, and hopefully we can find some support fro the Imperial League too." The Chancellor finishes and he steps off the Stairs and begins to wait.

[Yugostav]

Führer Джим has sent limos to pick up any guests arriving from the airport, they will take passengers on a path that pass by iconic Yugostavian landmarks like the statue of obedience, the 20ft statues of all the Führers of Yugostav, then to the spot by the lake where Yugostav was founded and the first flag was placed which is still there to this day, then finally down Main Street to the Capital building.

https://www.nationstates.net/nation=yug ... /id=687315

[Twillis]

Driving through the city Chancellor Twillis insisted on stopping at any and every landmark along the way taking pictures much like a tourist would. Any citizen who recognize him would be greeted kindly and he would continue along the route. After the third stop Captain Emile began growing impatient and concerned over the huge security risk stopping for every landmark was. Upon reaching Main Street Chancellor Twillis's camera was filled with pictures of Yugostav's Capital and her landmarks. As the Limos Pull up to the Capital building Captain Emile nods to the four Imperial Honor guard that followed the pair from the airport. Once the Car stop the four exit first, the same two raise the banners high as the four stand at attention, the next to follow is Captain Emile who looks around before nodding tot the Chancellor. Now knowing he is secured the Imperial Chancellor steps out of the car in between his honor guard and stands tall awaiting a greeting party or instructions.

[Yugostav]

An officer mounted on a horse followed by 4 soldiers in dress uniform begin to walk towards the chancellor. The soldiers heels click on the concrete under their feet as they walk. Mosin Nagants are cradled in their hands and resting on their shoulders as if they were children, bayonets stick up from the rifles. On the horse an officer in dress uniform carries a Yugostavian flag on a silver pole and the other hand handles the reins. The horse is a beautiful brown black and white with a Yugostavian eagle and IV branded into the back right thigh. When they reach the chancellor and his party he relays his instructions. He says he and his men are to escort them to the front.

https://www.nationstates.net/nation=yug ... /id=731442

[Typelimistan]

Lord High Supreme Leader Matthew Montgomery, quickly bounds from his car with haste. He sprints up to the front doors of the fuhrer's mighty capital building wondering if this is the right place, hoping he isn't late for the event he was invited to. He steps up to the front door before he knocks he adjusts his tall hat and buckles up his robe. He finally reaches out a hand and knocks on the front door

[Twillis]

The Chancellor follows the escort his banner guards walking along with the banners held high. Following the guards the Imperial Chancellor takes in the architecture of the building and its decorations along the way to the front.
"Quite a beautiful horse you have there Sir. Although we have horses in the Confederacy our breed is quite different, what was your name and rank if you dont mind me asking?" The Chancellor begins to strike up a conversation as they follow the escort. Captain Emile to the immediate right of the Chancellor keeping a look out for anything unexpected or any security flaws.
Walking behind the Chancellor, Samuels his aid quickly follows, dressed in a simple suit carrying a wooden box with a bow and an ornate glass bottle with a red liquid within.

[Yugostav]

The officer answers the chancellors questions with a surprised tone in his voice, he didn't think anyone would ask him anything.
"My name is Dale Johnson, I am a captain in the Yugostavian Army" he and the chancellor carry on a conversation. A sniper lays prone on top of the capital building dressed in white camouflage. He scans the perimeter for any threats. After coming up with nothing he checks his Barrett 50 cal. The scope lets off a little glare on the sunny day.

The escort reaches the front and the doors open to the visitors.

[Twillis]

As the group walks towards the front Chancellor Twillis gladly carries a conversation with Captain Johnson showing the proper respect a soldier should receive. As a glare from the sun hits the Chancellor's eyes He readjusts his Laurel and hair before continuing with his conversation. Once they reach the dorr Imperial Chancellor Twillis offers the Twillisian Salute of a fist to the center of his chest and then offers his hand to Captain Johnson and each of the soldiers.
"Thank you to each one of you, im sure each of you is a fine soldier of the Yugostavian armed forces, it was an honor to meet each of you." Imperial Chancellor Twillis says in a sincere voice, a voice that one could tell has seen the true face of war.
After the Imperial Chancellor says this his Honor Guard Salute them as well before the party proceeds into the Capitol Building and out of the sunny day.

[Galoresa]

Джим City, Yugostav

“Tedious” Halwende sneered as he shot his gaze away from Anbidian whilst they made their way through the angular workings of urban infrastructure to the Banquet. “Negotiating customs duties and inland levies with a proxy front is a bureaucratic fiend”. He seemed to be acting deliberately contrarian. It was even a tad embarrassing for anyone with a sense of empathy. The other alternative was to ship directly up to Sakhalin, which put any vessel in Komarinian crosshairs. Galoresa was not ready for naval confrontation in the pacific, and he should know that better than anybody else, seen as he was an officer in the war that put the nation in such a predicament in the first place.

“Laziness”, Anbidian corrected, bringing the broad-set, lofty bulwark that was his body to bear, utilising his superior height and feudal rank to assert his dominance. “Any paperwork is Hynsige’s headache before anyone else’s. Do not stop to tend a bullet wound whilst the man advancing in front of you has 2 of them. I expect you to carry the Cyng’s (King’s) will unto any destination he specifies. It is the duty of all men born under Galoresan colours”.

Twisting his neck to swivel his noggin back around, Halwende retorted “Our Cyng upholds my right to decide what I do with my own assets. I have no recollection of any notices from the bureau of commerce informing me of a nationalisation warrant. Freedom for the established. Fascism for the masses”.

Anbidian dealt the stout nobleman a lurid glare whilst he formulated a response. However, before he could open his mouth, Wissian piped up, “The Cyng protects all of Gallís’ children from unjust subordination. Surely, a proud and astute man such as yourself won’t shy away from honourable service of the fatherland in a profitable venture”?

Halwende felt as if his loyalty to his country and the service he had volunteered for in his younger days were unchallengeable. For him, having that disproven by this obnoxious and insolent creature, less than half his age and so far away from him on the political spectrum you might even class them as different species, was an insult that would have seen him burst a blood vessel were they even a few miles closer to the nearest Galoresan flag. The only thing preventing him from drawing his sabre there and then was Anbidian, who would, in fact, have drawn his own sabre right there and then, if it weren’t for Lioba, who emitted a timid and terrified squeak after Halwende tore his frame back to face Wissian, tightly holding his face in a gritted leer indolently smeared with crimson hue, akin to a rope upon the precipice of breaking, sharply sucking down air to unleash in a torrent of baritone malice that would have pricked the ears of those all the way back home, had this anxious chirping not caught the prince’s attention as it barely permeated through the hostility from behind the two aristocrats and ever so lightly breezed across their ears. Visibly distressed by the bubbling of adversity, if you judged by the tensed furrowing strewn across her delicate visage, Lioba sought armistice within the gang of the diplomatic commission. In fact, Lioba sought armistice just about everywhere she went. Nevertheless, whilst Halwende delayed his outburst to process the nervous whimper that had squeezed forth from the terrified little thing’s throat, Anbidian decided that he should not allow a woman to be distressed on account of actions that were at least partly his own, as Prāhsens had declared for all honourable men. He paid the small creature a flicker of the eyes in her direction during the paralysing silence that followed, before once again, utilising his stature, both physical and social, he commanded the flock, proving that he hadn’t actually taken Lioba’s feelings into account as a priority, and was simply following noble etiquette. “Enough of this! Petty squabbles are displays of internal weakness. Your rights of enterprise are up for debate, Ealdormann (Man of high social standing/Aristocrat). However, we were commissioned by the Cyng to carry out this task in a proper manner. Failure to comply is treason”.

Anbidian’s proclamation slashed past his lips like the brute swing of a bear’s claw. If it had been later on in the day when this event occurred, and the streets were lined with people, perhaps he and Halwende would be making a scene. Nevertheless, the warning had struck the group much more effectively than any slash of a sabre would have. Not one syllable escaped the despotic quiet, whilst the group reassumed formation. Anbidian and Halwende at the front, Wissian not far behind, then Lioba as she seemed to exist in an inescapable orbit around Selwyn at the back. In fact, the only one who had not been phased by any of this was Selwyn, who looked inappropriately underwhelmed by the whole ordeal. His eyes and mouth had drooped lazily and offered no reaction to the situation at hand. Selwyn had little time for normative reasoning. As far as he was concerned, logic should always dictate the emotions, and a thought process that worked the opposite way was doomed to incompetence. He had been stood at Lioba’s right side as some sort of uninspired sentinel all the way from the hotel to where they were now. Either that, or perhaps he was just an apathetic subject to a shy and curious guardian. He himself considered only the fact that the disagreement affected how long it would take to arrive at their destination and the way these attitudes would be projected onto diplomatic proceedings. At the conclusion of his contemplation, he piped up and burned right through the cold silence that smothered the group whilst they trudged onwards. “If you think the extra paperwork isn’t too much of an inconvenience, how about you lend a hand, Wissian”?

To this, Wissian tossed his heavy, uninviting grimace back on his neck, sending the smooth mop on top of his scalp thrashing wildly around, like countless tiny whips, lashing the space behind his head, to see the spiritless expression of Selwyn expecting a response, as well as Lioba eerily staring at him, as if the next words to emerge from his yap would decide the fate of someone’s life. The sound of air being lazily snatched into his lungs was all he could produce before Halwende intervened, speaking almost as if his teeth had imprisoned his tongue, whilst keeping his head still with an odd caution. “Paperwork ruined is not paperwork done” he snapped, almost like a resentful child, barely dragging Selwyn’s eyes to pay him heed.

In response, Wissian jerked his head in Halwende’s direction and remarked, “I’d rather keep the hand” in a descending, cynical tone.

Selwyn had encountered a fault in his algorithm to fix the problem. Once again, he saw his principle proven correct. The emotions that Halwende and Wissian clung to impeded a simple solution. Emotions that influenced logic had complicated the whole thing. Selwyn expressed one of the few emotions he felt capable whilst sober. Allowing the irritation within his mind to seep into his face, pulling his eyes shut and slowly extracting a long, drawn-out sigh from his lungs, Selwyn offered a new solution. “How about I deal with the paperwork of any projects as head Engineer”? he offered, trying to process what exactly that would entail as he said so.

“It's more than just my own time it takes” Halwende spat bitterly, “Every little detail has to be adjudicated, documented and verified by the merchant’s guild. Even still, the risk of operating a storefront like this is-”.

He had not finished his sharp, condescending excuse before Anbidian intervened with yet more decrees from a higher authority. “I've family members that have lived their whole lives from the perspective that the merchant’s guild is but a bustling consensus of levied gold upon a bent knee. Do not be too proud to concede, Halwende. The cost is worth far more than your ego”.

One might think the old bull was having the worst day of his life. He pressed his lips tightly together for a short moment, holding back curses forged from the language of unforgivable enemies before he let out a sharp puff of air, and a final remark. “Fine. Use my ships and carry the weight of your endeavours upon the shoulders of the men I employ. But, I shan't lift a finger beyond forming a project commission, and if it goes wrong, it just goes to show, I was right”.

No one felt like saying another word. What they had gotten to now was enough. In fact, Halwende had even thrown a headache into the deal for Selwyn, who was now content with the status quo. Onward they went, clad in finest attire. Anbidian adorned his upper body with brilliant scarlet (which even reached down to the back of his knees in a gold-rimmed schism) that boasted bursting reams of radiant golden sway, tucking across his left shoulder, cresting his sternum and stretching only to fall short of his right hip by an inch or so. Upon this, spectacular rivets of silver, red, blue, purple and white of varying shapes and sizes had colonised the expanse of his chest, shimmering magnificently with their scrupulous and precise thickets of etchings, swaying and chiming as Anbidian moved. From the great crest of lustrous silver and flanking athemyst that stretched out into an encircled criss-cross just above his heart to the unsmothered and modest laurel that hung around his neck, holding 4 forked, concave arms of splashed white out from its azure core. Down the centre, and at the cuffs of his wrists, stalwart bolts of a similar fashion bumped out from the cloth. Further down, Hessian boots engulfed mythic white breeches that bore a sheath embracing all but an embellished hilt.

Halwende dressed in a very similar fashion, choosing a Prussian black to bear his ornamented attire, casting the husky, graphite-hued bushel that rested on his crown to the opposite side that Anbidian usually had his own hair. Behind him, another pair had subscribed to a mutual trend. Both Wissian and Selwyn chose “bourgeois” fashion over regal, enrobing midnight black blazers that suppressed antithetic white fabric which only escaped at the neck with a thick, sturdy curtain of sandy textile, advancing all the way down the legs and binding together at the waist with a cord of the same material. Amusingly, it was as if a puppeteer and his act were walking down the street.

Lastly was Lioba, who could probably convince Halwende that she was a synthetic doll in her current state. A concoction man should not fathom had been constructed on top of the canvas that was her flesh. Fine powders, heavy creams, red wax-like substances, viscous black compounds somewhere between ink and tar...E Selwyn would not dare to study their ominous melding. Her hair had been tied up atop and towards the back of her skull, perhaps in fearful aversion of the inauspicious concoctions. Nevertheless, daintily fastened to this unblemished creature was a shroud of wavy monastral blue, that bunched and curved strategically at the formless gown of sinewy sheafs below her waist, and conglomerated into a more substantial swath around her thin torso, dotted with speckles of canary-coloured metal up in 3 columns to the clavicle, where the cloth exploded into a frenzy of twinkling auric, devoid of any uniform dispersion. Reaching across her shoulders was more of that sinewy mesh, advancing in symmetrical streams that reached from her back, winding beside her deltoids and disappearing into the outermost parts of her front lower ribs. Resting just below this shroud of blue was a swinging ornament around her neck, settling at her collarbone. Except, this ornament was nothing like those of Anbidian or Halwende. No white crosses or regal insignia. No purple ribbons or engraved swords. All that suspended from the thin gold beads that rested on Lioba’s shoulders were a tidy bunch of golden trinkets.

A seemingly uncountable number of minutes drifted by as the cadre shuffled along in an unstable halcyon state. Following the winding streets and pathways, juxtaposed with sporadic lashings of flora, beginning to emerge into activity as more and more people emerged into the waking city, they finally came upon a goliath of a structure, spotting it from all the way down the other end of the street. Imposing and dominant, it’s angular bulk snapped at strict angles, before it heaved upwards, lifting a great mound to bear towards the sky. Riveted like steel, and paying host to seemingly-immovable effigies before a concrete expanse in its approach. Marvelling in their arrival, more became evident of the heart of Yugostav. Tenaciously drumming booted heels back and forth across the complex were sections of stalwart, cohesive warriors, clad in pristine Prussian blue, embellished with striking gold. Those on their feet shouldered fine ordnance of polished chestnut and steel that produced twinkling akin to Anbidian’s medals when their bayonets struck the light. However, what stood out most were those on horseback. Any true Galoresan appreciated fine Cavalry. Upon the back of an auburn-tanned steed, whose fine coat darkened along the top of it’s spine, as a bulging serpent, and down its legs, one of which bore the brand of the Yugostavian eagle in the flesh upon its hind right thigh, yet snapping to white just above the hoof, was yet another pertinacious sentinel. Clad in attire more opulent than his unmounted peers, he bore an unwavering silver pole, atop which sacred colours fluttered on unblemished cloth.

“That there’s an Oldenburg horse...German breed from Lower Saxony. Courageous, cautious and powerful” Halwende remarked in oblivious, almost childlike fascination. This proved (to Selwyn, at least) that if the most difficult character of the whole group could be kept keen on the situation at hand by this much, then perhaps the banquet would be a stunning success. Still, there was no more time for theorising. The time had come to enter the banquet.

[Yugostav]

Behind the heavy and thick dark oak wood doors awaited a banquet fit for a thousand kings and queens. The floors were a hard dark wood but still smooth to the touch. The walls were a cold, smooth marble adorned with various carvings of Yugostavian History. Carvings include knights in shining armor draped in the flag of the Yugostavian 1st Reich slaying beasts, Yugostavian soldiers lined in columns in an open field under the flag of the Yugostavian 2nd Reich in the 1700s, a Yugostavian Calvary charge with swords drawn and horses galloping towards the enemy. The flag of the Yugostavian 3rd Reich can be seen being held by a Calvary men, and then carvings of the first and second world wars where the flag of the 4th Reich is seen.

Where the walls meet the ceiling and floor is is trimmed with gold. In the middle of the large room a long table is set with shining silverware, plates, wineglasses, and only the best Yugostavian food.
Ranging from seasoned smoked bear, Siberian tiger steak, elk meatballs, and smoked peacock to more common foods such as roasted turkey, steak, chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, salads and others various kinds of food. Champagne, wine, water are some of the beverages servants carry on their silver platters.

Several Yugostavian officials are spread throughout the room, All the Yugostav generals are present along with a few other officers, Yugostavian politicians sip fine wine whilst boasting about achievements, big business owners such as the owner of Yugostavian 505 arms manufacturer and others are also present. One of the most notable is the Führer himself, he has placed himself in the back and is in a conversation with General Nalle of the Yugostavian Air Force. Führer Джим is escorted by two guards at all times unless told otherwise. A large Yugostavian flag is hung in a frame just behind the head chair, it was soaked and stained with the blood of past Führers.

Finally guards, they are posted by entrances, exits, doors to other rooms, and six others patrol the building.

https://www.nationstates.net/page=lodge_dispatch

[Twillis]

Upon entering the banquet fit for heroes and kings the Chancellor smiles like a kid let loose out of his strict parents gaze. Making his way through the room the Chancellor first heads to Führer Джим to pass along his thanks and gifts for the invite. As he walks over Chancellor Twillis adjusts his suit jacket, tightening his tie and realigning his Laurel and various medals.
"How do i look Emile? Would you take me on a date?" The Chancellor says jokingly a jokers smile forming as he glances to Captain Emile.
"Well Sir maybe if you weren't dedicated to your ex wife and perhaps if i weren't in a relationship then perhaps not. Regulations after all." Emile responds in a more serious manner but joking non the less.
"Well that will have to do then. Samuels the gifts please." He exclaims turning and holding his hands out towards his aid.
"Of course sir, here you go." Samuels replies as he hands over the wooden box and glass bottle.
Witht he gifts in hand Chancellor Twillis walks forward towards Führer Джим once he is within talking range he stops and begins to introduce himself.
"Führer Джим, Chancellor Twillis its an honor to meet you in person, my thanks for inviting my country to your banquet, ive brought some gifts from the Confederacy." Chancellor Twillis says as he holds out the gifts "A bottle of red wine from my personal collection, a fine 1983 from my vineyard and a box of cigars from our finest plantation in the capital region."
Behind Chancellor Twillis his four honor guard stand at attention, Samuels in the center looking overwhelmed at the sight of such a large gathering, and Captain Emile looking stern and ready for anything.

[Yugostav]

Upon entering the banquet fit for heroes and kings the Chancellor smiles like a kid let loose out of his strict parents gaze. Making his way through the room the Chancellor first heads to Führer Джим to pass along his thanks and gifts for the invite. As he walks over Chancellor Twillis adjusts his suit jacket, tightening his tie and realigning his Laurel and various medals.
"How do i look Emile? Would you take me on a date?" The Chancellor says jokingly a jokers smile forming as he glances to Captain Emile.
"Well Sir maybe if you weren't dedicated to your ex wife and perhaps if i weren't in a relationship then perhaps not. Regulations after all." Emile responds in a more serious manner but joking non the less.
"Well that will have to do then. Samuels the gifts please." He exclaims turning and holding his hands out towards his aid.
"Of course sir, here you go." Samuels replies as he hands over the wooden box and glass bottle.
Witht he gifts in hand Chancellor Twillis walks forward towards Führer Джим once he is within talking range he stops and begins to introduce himself.
"Führer Джим, Chancellor Twillis its an honor to meet you in person, my thanks for inviting my country to your banquet, ive brought some gifts from the Confederacy." Chancellor Twillis says as he holds out the gifts "A bottle of red wine from my personal collection, a fine 1983 from my vineyard and a box of cigars from our finest plantation in the capital region."
Behind Chancellor Twillis his four honor guard stand at attention, Samuels in the center looking overwhelmed at the sight of such a large gathering, and Captain Emile looking stern and ready for anything.

Führer Джим turns to look at the Chancellor "Im very glad you were able to attend and might I say you look like a million dollars" he says with excited tone in his voice "thank you very much" he says as he takes the gifts "feel free to ask me or any of our personnel if you need assistance." The Führer shakes the chancellor warmly by the hand and begins to spark a conversation.

[Twillis]

As the two leaders, those who run two powerful nations in their own rights shake hands Chancellor Twillis smiles a smile of warmth.
"My thanks Führer Джим, and i must say your suit is amazing as well. It is my honor to be here and i must say your country is one of the finest ive been to. What a country to visit after so long locked away in the Confederacy. Im glad to be here and i hope this may be a step forward in creating a true relationship between our two nations." Chancellor Twillis turns to Captain Emile, "Captain why dont you and Samuels get some drinks and food, im going to stay here and have a conversation with Führer Джим."
"Very well sir, if you need either of us we will be close by." Captain Emile replies tersely before leading the overwhelmed Samuels away to enjoy some food.
"Now Führer Джим i know its some what impolite to discuss business in such a fancy party, but the Imperial High Council wished me to pass along a proposal for the establishment of Embassy's between our nations so we may begin formal talks, i know some among the High Council wished to propose some deals to your nation." The Chancellor says adopting a more serious tone "With the Imperial Confederacy finally turning towards the world and moving to take our place in the worlds stage we find ourselves in need of friends and allies."

Nearby Captain Emile has lead Samuels towards food and stands still at attention while Samuels cautiously eats food and sips at a glass.
"Whats wrong Captain? Dont trust the Furhrer?" Samuels says in between bites.
"Not that its my duty to protect the Chancellor not watch your skinny ass eat food." She replies in the same serious yet joking manner as before.
"Of course Captain, i guess that was a bad question." As he returns to eating and drinking.

[Yugostav]

All of the conversations begin to die down as people begin to take their spots at the table. As everyone is sitting down the Führer makes a toast " I would like to thank everyone that has come here tonight, and hopefully to make friends and allies" he sits down and the food begins to be passed around.

[Qasheer]

"Umm... May I ask, what are you serving?" Nor Jess asked. "Sorry, if this question might offend anyone or any thing..."