Turkmen Emirate royal wedding (IC/MT)

[The Turkmen Emirate]

Emir Selim Suleiman Han of The Turkmen Emirate is marrying Princess Latifa
Al-Sharawyi of the United Wadiyan Emirates at Ertugrul Gazi Mosque today.
Latifa:
https://i.imgur.com/XGmKLNb.jpg

[New Aza]

OUR CHAIRS ARE PREMIUM! YOU WILL LIKE THEM, YES? CONGRATULATIONS ON BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL WEDDING

[The Selkie]

Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee.
Approaching Ertugrul Gazi Mosque.
They had been spared, you know? They had been spared from knowing the sound of Selkie-Horns, the deep and reverberating sound of goat horns being blown, as the sound of approaching doom and the end of the world.
In our haydays, hearing this sound would have made men like the ones of this city kill their wifes and daughters and sisters out of fear of a fate worse then death before throwing themselves off of the tallest places they could find. This sound would have heralded the end of their lives of luxury and decadance and the end of their cute little city, to be ransacked, plundered, burned, pillaged, raped and shat on for good measure.
What? Even horses needed a potty break every once in a while!
As it stood, however, these days were long in the past.
Luckily.
I am an old man, but even I could not remember these days. The Spiorad did. Their ancient memories told of suh days, their long-honed reflexes saw openings and gaps, where they could punch through.
The sound of our horns, these days, heralded not doom and destruction, but the arrival of high representatives in Selkie-Style. In this case, it was myself, Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee, and my younger companion for the day, Aífe Sullphiosa of the Tribe of Antrim.
The Gods alone knew, why the Marcach Guild of Redruth had sent us here, but that was irrelevant. In the ancient spirit of things, my countrymen and I were paid well for being here, for the horns heralded not only our arrival, but the arrival of the two of us mounted on the backs of mighty horses, both of us riding Bratach Ríoga Breeds, escorted by three Banners per disgnitary, not to mention the horsemen completing our own Lances.
Six Banners, plus two Lances, 228 horsemen rode towards the Mosque.
Armed horsemen, lances high in the air, swords and bows at the side, shields hanging from the saddles.
Armoured horsemen, polished and resplendent, the characteristic half-cuirasses.
Banners high in the air.
Only two, Aífe and myself, would participate in the ceremony.
Aífe was a pretty woman, a singular blue eye looking at the world from a blonde-framed face, one of the very few people in our caravan not dressed in the characteristic half-cuirass, but in a leather armour, which had a bit of a cleavage, allowing a splendid view... I was married, granted, but one could get appetite, as long as one ate at home.
I smiled at her - her Lance, the ones most immediately around her, were Marcach, who had lost limbs and eyes and whatnot in accidents, much like her. It was her way of ensuring, that they were not forgotten.
She returned the smile and looked at the Lance immediately around me - none of which were above 13 Springs. It was the Youth, the next generation, children about as old as my Grandchildren. They beamed with pride and the older Marcach in the caravan did their best to reinforce that pride.
At the steps of the mosque, which apparently was what they called the local temples, one of the kids took a horn to the lips, looked at me - I nodded - and he blew with all his skill and might.
Indeed, the sound went deep into bone.
Aífe and I dismounted, handed the reins of our horses to one of the immediate Lance, and turned to face, what was to come. Behind us, the caravan made way for whoever came after us, taking formation around the forecourt.
One thing was certain: No matter how anyone else arrived, even the bride, we had the most style if one asked me.

[Nationalist Northumbria]

Alvin Ashleigh, president of Northumbria, arrives.

[Somurias]

The convoy of President Leon Bukhanov arrived at the Ertugrul Gazi Mosque. Like usual, the driver opened the door of the presidential car, and when the president take a step outside the car, the 4 presidential PSMVD and the driver saluted him. He saluted them back, and the PSMVD began to escort him to the mosque, while the driver will stay inside the presidential car. The PSMVD stopped in the front of the mosque, and before entering, the president says, "Assalamualaikum"

He enters the building, together with Minister of Foreign Affairs Leonid Kalashinko, and a 4 stars General Dimitry Dumorov

[Cypriot-Rhodes]

Alcander Asklepios, King of Cypriot-Rhodes arrives at the Airport Terminal, and then drives to the wedding venue.

He walks in alone carrying his gifts to the Bride and Groom.

[Somurias]

President Leon Bukhanov whispers to General Dimitry Dumorov. He says, "V kakom sostoyanii nash spetsnaz v Sibiri? Oni uzhe zakhvatili soldat separatistov Belogo Tigra?" General Dimitry Dumorov replied by saying, "V nastoyashcheye vremya my ne zanimayemsya separatistom, ser. My ne znali, gde oni seychas, dazhe nasha byvshaya baza PSMVD pustuyet, ser." The president nod. He then stare at the ceiling of the mosque, and then he says, "They must be proud of themselves. I've been here more than one time, and i am never get bored with this place."

[Cypriot-Rhodes]

Alcander Asklepios Approaches Leon Bukhanov, and says "Γεια σας κύριε, θα ήθελα να μιλήσω για πολιτικά θέματα μαζί σας."

[Somurias]

Alcander Asklepios Approaches Leon Bukhanov, and says "Γεια σας κύριε, θα ήθελα να μιλήσω για πολιτικά θέματα μαζί σας."

Minister of Foreign Affairs Leonid Kalashinko translated the words to, "Hello sir, I would like to talk to you about political issues", on which President Bukhanov replied with, "Hello! What kind of political issues, Your Majesty?"

[Nationalist Northumbria]

Alvin Ashleigh cannot understand what the hell these people are saying.

[Somurias]

President Bukhanov stare on his watch. They've been waiting for hours. "I think the emir is busy or something," he said

[Cypriot-Rhodes]

Minister of Foreign Affairs Leonid Kalashinko translated the words to, "Hello sir, I would like to talk to you about political issues", on which President Bukhanov replied with, "Hello! What kind of political issues, Your Majesty?"

"Θα ήθελα να συζητήσουμε τη μελλοντική οικονομική εταιρική σχέση και - ω συγγνώμη, λαμβάνω τηλέφωνο από την Αιγυπτιακή Πρώτη Γραμμή. Δώστε ένα δευτερόλεπτο. Χαίρετε?" He said into his cell phone as he stepped back "Looks like the War is over for Now." He says in Surprisingly Clear English. "And Military Partnership."

[Somurias]

Minister of Foreign Affairs Leonid Kalashinko translated the words to, "Hello sir, I would like to talk to you about political issues", on which President Bukhanov replied with, "Hello! What kind of political issues, Your Majesty?"

"Θα ήθελα να συζητήσουμε τη μελλοντική οικονομική εταιρική σχέση και - ω συγγνώμη, λαμβάνω τηλέφωνο από την Αιγυπτιακή Πρώτη Γραμμή. Δώστε ένα δευτερόλεπτο. Χαίρετε?" He said into his cell phone as he stepped back "Looks like the War is over for Now." He says in Surprisingly Clear English. "And Military Partnership."

Minister of Foreign Affairs Leonid Kalashinko translated the words for the president. The president then says, "Why not? Besides even though we are militarily and economically powerful, no country can survive without the help from the others."

[Cypriot-Rhodes]

"Jolly Good" He said, his Greek Accent creeping into his clear precise english.
"First Things First. I'll withdraw from attacking all Somurian Troops in the Aursian Civil war, but as compensation if something were to happen during the Egyptian War we would like help. Secondly I would like to create a Massive Trading System between our Two Nations, Hopefully making it powerful enough to Cripple the Economies of Others and Boost our allies economies."

[Somurias]

"Jolly Good" He said, his Greek Accent creeping into his clear precise english.
"First Things First. I'll withdraw from attacking all Somurian Troops in the Aursian Civil war, but as compensation if something were to happen during the Egyptian War we would like help. Secondly I would like to create a Massive Trading System between our Two Nations, Hopefully making it powerful enough to Cripple the Economies of Others and Boost our allies economies."

Leon replied, "Somurias is full of wheats, fishes, and oils, and we are producing electronics too."

[Nationalist Northumbria]

Alvin Ashleigh waits impatiently. He is on the verge of dabbing.

[Cypriot-Rhodes]

Alcander becomes unrestful so he decides to try and pass the time by playing a Game called Nation States.

[Hygelac Station]

Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee.
Approaching Ertugrul Gazi Mosque.
They had been spared, you know? They had been spared from knowing the sound of Selkie-Horns, the deep and reverberating sound of goat horns being blown, as the sound of approaching doom and the end of the world.
In our haydays, hearing this sound would have made men like the ones of this city kill their wifes and daughters and sisters out of fear of a fate worse then death before throwing themselves off of the tallest places they could find. This sound would have heralded the end of their lives of luxury and decadance and the end of their cute little city, to be ransacked, plundered, burned, pillaged, raped and shat on for good measure.
What? Even horses needed a potty break every once in a while!
As it stood, however, these days were long in the past.
Luckily.
I am an old man, but even I could not remember these days. The Spiorad did. Their ancient memories told of suh days, their long-honed reflexes saw openings and gaps, where they could punch through.
The sound of our horns, these days, heralded not doom and destruction, but the arrival of high representatives in Selkie-Style. In this case, it was myself, Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee, and my younger companion for the day, Aífe Sullphiosa of the Tribe of Antrim.
The Gods alone knew, why the Marcach Guild of Redruth had sent us here, but that was irrelevant. In the ancient spirit of things, my countrymen and I were paid well for being here, for the horns heralded not only our arrival, but the arrival of the two of us mounted on the backs of mighty horses, both of us riding Bratach Ríoga Breeds, escorted by three Banners per disgnitary, not to mention the horsemen completing our own Lances.
Six Banners, plus two Lances, 228 horsemen rode towards the Mosque.
Armed horsemen, lances high in the air, swords and bows at the side, shields hanging from the saddles.
Armoured horsemen, polished and resplendent, the characteristic half-cuirasses.
Banners high in the air.
Only two, Aífe and myself, would participate in the ceremony.
Aífe was a pretty woman, a singular blue eye looking at the world from a blonde-framed face, one of the very few people in our caravan not dressed in the characteristic half-cuirass, but in a leather armour, which had a bit of a cleavage, allowing a splendid view... I was married, granted, but one could get appetite, as long as one ate at home.
I smiled at her - her Lance, the ones most immediately around her, were Marcach, who had lost limbs and eyes and whatnot in accidents, much like her. It was her way of ensuring, that they were not forgotten.
She returned the smile and looked at the Lance immediately around me - none of which were above 13 Springs. It was the Youth, the next generation, children about as old as my Grandchildren. They beamed with pride and the older Marcach in the caravan did their best to reinforce that pride.
At the steps of the mosque, which apparently was what they called the local temples, one of the kids took a horn to the lips, looked at me - I nodded - and he blew with all his skill and might.
Indeed, the sound went deep into bone.
Aífe and I dismounted, handed the reins of our horses to one of the immediate Lance, and turned to face, what was to come. Behind us, the caravan made way for whoever came after us, taking formation around the forecourt.
One thing was certain: No matter how anyone else arrived, even the bride, we had the most style if one asked me.

Commodore Dawn Stephans - Captain Abigail Callisto
98th Nachiketa Flying Detachment
Near Ertugrul Ghazi Mosque

A large plane-like craft swooped over the heads of the arriving guests with a loud screech, still slightly glowing from the heat of atmospheric reentry. Auxiliary thrusters fired as it slowed and then came to a steady hover, before gently setting itself down in front of the mosque. It was clearly a military transport of some sort. A large, twin-barreled autocannon turrent was mounted on top, while two large missiles connected to some sort of reloading mechanism lay on top of the engine nacelles.

A loud hiss could be heard as the rear ramp opened, letting off a small delegation.

First was a striking brunette. She would be a pretty face -- slightly tanned skin, light-brown, slightly curled, shoulder-length hair -- were it not for her eyes. Perhaps those two emerald orbs had once sparkled with emotion -- with wonder, or joy, or first-love -- but they were now hollow, blood-shot and ringed with deep circles, and did not meet the gaze of others so as much as they bored straight through them. Her heavy, dark uniform-coat, with it's orange shoulder-straps and the peaked cap tucked under her arm, to say nothing of the heavy cutlass by her side, gave the very distinct impression of a bloody-minded officer, or perhaps a brutal military dictator. Either way she seemed a woman on the verge of snapping at any second, yet one who, still, for some unfathomable reason, had immense amounts of firepower on her side, though somewhat undercutting this impression was the icebox in her hand.

Besides her was another woman, also in uniform, but seemingly more calm, if not quite sane. She held in her right hand a tablet, and her only armament was a multitool and pistol hanging by her side. She, too, wore her black hair at shoulder-length, and wore the same uniform as her presumed superior. But this unlike her superior, she had the air of a slightly overstressed white-collar worker -- polite, professional, competent, but always just a little rushed. In left hand, she held a small carrying-case.

On their heels were eight marines in heavy armor, visors concealing their identity and carrying heavy rifles. One Marine inclined their head upon seeing the Selkie-Delegation, and pressed a hand to their ear. Unheard to all, a brief radio-conversation was held among the Marines, marvelling at the sight.

<< "Sarge, are you sure we haven't walked into a Luddic edutainment-holo?" >>

<< "Sure of it. Now, they may be pretty, but eyes forward, Private Cakabran. Eyes forward." >>

<< "You don't see this sort of stuff even on Eventide, that's for sure. Maybe on Gilead?" >>

<< "Not even on Gilead. Luddic Church may be, well, Luddites, but even they got tractors. You'd have to go to...maybe Chalcedon? I did a raid on that place a year or two back, but even the Pathers don't use them much anymore." >>

<< "By Ludd's left shoe, eyes forward or you'll all be drinking piss for a week!" >>

<< "Sorry, Sarge." >>

<< "Copied,Sarge." >>

Irregardless of their sergeant's silence chasitisement over the radio, however, one or two waved at the horse-mounted Selkie -- one warrior to another -- as they took up their own positions, in two teams of four, spread out in a skirmish-line. The two officers they were escorting continued on into the mosque and took their places, waiting for the bride and bridegroom to arrive.

[The Selkie]

[...]

Irregardless of their sergeant's silence chasitisement over the radio, however, one or two waved at the horse-mounted Selkie -- one warrior to another -- as they took up their own positions, in two teams of four, spread out in a skirmish-line. The two officers they were escorting continued on into the mosque and took their places, waiting for the bride and bridegroom to arrive.

Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee.
Approaching Ertugrul Gazi Mosque.
Irregardless of the other dignitaries having conversations, and of one of the lot looking so utterly bored, he might start something supremely stupid, Aífe and I rather observed the landing of the...
...it honestly reminded me a bit of a shuttle from one of the novels of the Blaidd-girl.
I chuckled to myself, but then watched, as the two young women disembarked and watched, unaware of the Sergeant keeping his men in line, as one or two of the security troop waved at our horsemen, one warrior to another.
Of course, our people replied with stoicism, safe for their Banner Captains, who placed her fists over their hearts and bowed their heads - from one warrior to another.
I, meanwhile, was more captured by the eyes of the first woman. She was by far not the first woman in who's eyes I looked. I had seen them sparkle with joy, filled with the fire of determination, wet of sadness or of happiness, unfocussed because of pleasure (myself being the reason for that pleasure, fill in the blanks yourself) and with a myriad of other impressions... and also empty.
An old man knew, what a soldier's eyes looked like.
And an old man knew, what the eyes of a soldier with eyes empty as that had seen. I was no stranger to death and dead myself, but mine weren't so empty.
I held her gaze, Aífe opting to bow her head in respect as her gaze passed us.
I nodded, from one warrior to another.

[Westmonkwick]

IC: General-Sir Michael James Malone, Chief Constable of The Westmonkwick Constabulary, walks to the mosque with his two Westmonkwick Constabulary bodyguards.
He is wearing a police Chief Constable’s uniform and various medals from his military says. He is tall, muscular and a redhead.

[Nationalist Northumbria]

Alvin Ashleigh is unable to resist it anymore. He excuses himself for a moment and dabs.

[The United Holy Orders]

The Elder Grandmaster speedily rushes himself into the pristine halls of the wedding ceremony, fiddling with the drapes of his dark red robe adorned with lavish silver crosses. "Apologies, apologies! I must say I'm deeply sorry if I've arrived late. There was some domestic issue that had to be resolved before I could take the flight here."

[Hygelac Station]

[...]

Irregardless of their sergeant's silence chasitisement over the radio, however, one or two waved at the horse-mounted Selkie -- one warrior to another -- as they took up their own positions, in two teams of four, spread out in a skirmish-line. The two officers they were escorting continued on into the mosque and took their places, waiting for the bride and bridegroom to arrive.

Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee.
Approaching Ertugrul Gazi Mosque.
Irregardless of the other dignitaries having conversations, and of one of the lot looking so utterly bored, he might start something supremely stupid, Aífe and I rather observed the landing of the...
...it honestly reminded me a bit of a shuttle from one of the novels of the Blaidd-girl.
I chuckled to myself, but then watched, as the two young women disembarked and watched, unaware of the Sergeant keeping his men in line, as one or two of the security troop waved at our horsemen, one warrior to another.
Of course, our people replied with stoicism, safe for their Banner Captains, who placed her fists over their hearts and bowed their heads - from one warrior to another.
I, meanwhile, was more captured by the eyes of the first woman. She was by far not the first woman in who's eyes I looked. I had seen them sparkle with joy, filled with the fire of determination, wet of sadness or of happiness, unfocussed because of pleasure (myself being the reason for that pleasure, fill in the blanks yourself) and with a myriad of other impressions... and also empty.
An old man knew, what a soldier's eyes looked like.
And an old man knew, what the eyes of a soldier with eyes empty as that had seen. I was no stranger to death and dead myself, but mine weren't so empty.
I held her gaze, Aífe opting to bow her head in respect as her gaze passed us.
I nodded, from one warrior to another.

Commodore Dawn Stephans - Captain Abigail Callisto
98th Nachiketa Flying Detachment
Near Ertugrul Ghazi Mosque
The senior officer held Oliunoir's gaze for a long while. Despite his first impression, there was something beyond emptiness -- as if those hollow eyes were a mere facade. Sadness? Rage? Something lay beyond, but Dawn then returned his nod and began to speak. Any further attempt at dissection would have to wait.

"Bright burns." she muttered. "Commodore Dawn Stephens. 98th Nachiketa Flying Detachment of the Hegemony Navy, at your service. This my subordinate, Captain Abigail Callisto." She motioned at her slightly older subordinate, who offered her hand for a shake. "Pleased to meet you." she said. "As stated by my Commanding Officer, Captain Callisto, Hegemony Navy, at your service. You are...?"

[The Selkie]

Commodore Dawn Stephans - Captain Abigail Callisto
98th Nachiketa Flying Detachment
Near Ertugrul Ghazi Mosque
The senior officer held Oliunoir's gaze for a long while. Despite his first impression, there was something beyond emptiness -- as if those hollow eyes were a mere facade. Sadness? Rage? Something lay beyond, but Dawn then returned his nod and began to speak. Any further attempt at dissection would have to wait.

"Bright burns." she muttered. "Commodore Dawn Stephens. 98th Nachiketa Flying Detachment of the Hegemony Navy, at your service. This my subordinate, Captain Abigail Callisto." She motioned at her slightly older subordinate, who offered her hand for a shake. "Pleased to meet you." she said. "As stated by my Commanding Officer, Captain Callisto, Hegemony Navy, at your service. You are...?"

Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee.
Approaching Ertugrul Gazi Mosque.
So they were military, I thought as I listened to her introduction. I did notice, that there was something behind the eyes - a sharp mind, considering her age and her rank, was quite likely.
I bowed my head slightly, then took the hand for a shake into my armoured hand.
It was a firm and strong grip.
"Crixus Oliunoir of the Tribe of Tralee, a Guild-Master of the Marcach Guild of Redruth.", I introduced myself, then motioned to my side, where Aífe bowed her head. "This young lady is Aífe Sullphiosa of the Tribe of Antrim."
"Please, just call me Aífe.", she asked and then extended her hand for a shake. "We're from the Free Lands, Marcach Guild, to be precise. I must admit, that I am a bit confused right now, for which Hegemony are you from?"

[Sale-Rabat]

The Sultan arrives in a luxury chartered plane with, again, his indentured servant Sophia, a young Macedonian girl that emigrated to Sale-Rabat as such.

When asked by media why he does not bring with him his three recently married to him wives, he replies, with a smile, that they have too much dignity to be paraded as a trophy, while an indentured servant hasn't. Sophia doesn't say anything because she knows she has much better life than her previous one as an indentured servant even if the Sultan considers her just a trophy, and that if she said anything that good life could end very fastly.

On the other hand, the sultan seems to appreciate her sincerely given of all the jewellry she is wearing and how he talks to her.

When they both approach the mosque, the Sultan greets the emir as the old friend he is, and gives 12 million dollars for the future husband and wife.