GP-PoB Pact Conference (GP-PoB only)

[Maxedon]

(OOC:This will be held in the Trache, a small southern province of Maxedon. You can see it on my map)
The Emperor walked into the conference room with a nervous feeling. Relations between the two regions were still extremely weak. This Pact will bring us together.. the Emperor thought. He waited for the Alexiandran leader representing the Pact of Brotherhood.

[Alexiandra]

Sevra listened to the engine of the helicopter whirr as it drew inevitably closer to its destination. He was simply alone with his thoughts, reflecting on the events of the past few weeks. The Alexiandran invasion of Maxedon had resulted in a political stalemate, and now he was going to attempt a settling. He doubted that any more hostilities would sprout from this chain of events, not in the foreseeable future anyway. He picked up an old map of Maxedon from the shiny steel dresser next to him, and examined it. Trache was indeed a small colony, which would have probably been ravaged by war had peace talks not begun in earnest. He had received reports that the naval task force deployed to the Gandsen Archipelago was returning to Alexiandra for redeployment to the still dangerous Harvian islands. The islands were still in disarray following their brutal insurrection two months prior, and the ships were needed to make up for troops lost during the conflict. Sevra glanced out of the window at the glittering ocean, and at Trache, which was drawing ever nearer. He could only hope more brutal war wouldn't follow.

[Maxedon]

Three flags rested on the table. One, the Maxedonian Phoenix Flag, the Global Powers Flag, and the Alexiandran flag.

An F/A-37 Talon III escorted Lord Sevra's helicopter down to the conference building. Once landed, ten Maxedonian Imperial Guards rushed and formed a line, protecting the Alexiandran visitor.

[Alexiandra]

Sevra stepped out of the craft, the breeze blowing back his jet black, shoulder length hair. His royal guards also exited behind him, twenty of them, all wearing red and green robes and carrying ceremonial blades and staffs. Sevra walked forwards past the ranks of Maxedonian guards, his boots clicking on the concrete. His jewel encrusted crown rested loosely on his head, a crown soaked with the blood of thousands of previous rulers. In a passive salute to the Maxedonians, he and his guards drew their weapons, his a sparkling longsword, and raised them in the air. They then performed a complicated combat procedure with the weapons, before proceeding inside. Sevra's aide, tiny in comparison to the hulking guards, hurried up to him and handed him his briefcase. Sevra thanked him, and strolled off to greet Max Emboss. This new agreement would stop any sort of hostility between the pair, and would hopefully ensure security and prosperity for both nations.