The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[Imperium Anglorum]

Gaius Marcius Blythe. So, Jimmy, tell me about these new drinks you have on promotion, "Equality" and "Fairness". Are they similar only to "Isonomia" – a white wine one of my distant cousins has been making for ten generations near Massilia – in name?

Ambassador Evif, beaming, hands the IA ambassador a glossy pamphlet from Borden Breweries extolling the virtues of their beers.

"Anyone else interested? If not—"

He drops a rather large stack of pamphlets on the bar in front of Jimmy.

Blythe take a look at the pamphlet, with some very interesting colour images of beer barrels, smiling brewers, and posed images of beer in glasses, but then turns to Evif, saying "I don't recognise this writing, could you translate?"

[Golden Fleece]

A tall, muscular man enters the Bar. He looks almost viking-esque with how he is dressed, wearing a heavy red tunic, and a large yellow fleece draped across his shoulders. A thick, brown beard flows off of his face, shaking slightly as he talks. It is almost elegant alongside long hair, sitting around halfway down his back and with several braids mixed throughout the otherwise flowing, straight locks. Power is exuded by him, and his youth radiates around the room.

"Good evening, delegates of the World Assembly. I thank you all for welcoming me into your... Strangers' Bar tonight. Speaking of which, bartender - I'm so sorry, what's your name? Jimmy? Splendid, Jimmy, could you get me a tall glass of orange juice? While he handles that, I will have discussions with you all to discuss my nation's entry into the World Assembly. My people are a small but mighty force - a village full of people who have united under the name of the Golden Fleece - " he lifts the fleece off of his shoulders, holding it in his forearms, "of this Golden Fleece."

He takes the orange juice from Jimmy, who prepared it while he finished his speech, and he takes a long sip. His beard drips twice after he finishes drinking. "Thank you, Jimmy."

[Simone Republic]

The terrifying Bear observes the ambassador with the golden fleece with some amusement as the Bear does not really wear any fleeces itself, and orders a strong whiskey instead.

[Unibot III]

A tall, muscular man enters the Bar. He looks almost viking-esque with how he is dressed, wearing a heavy red tunic, and a large yellow fleece draped across his shoulders. A thick, brown beard flows off of his face, shaking slightly as he talks. It is almost elegant alongside long hair, sitting around halfway down his back and with several braids mixed throughout the otherwise flowing, straight locks. Power is exuded by him, and his youth radiates around the room.

"Good evening, delegates of the World Assembly. I thank you all for welcoming me into your... Strangers' Bar tonight. Speaking of which, bartender - I'm so sorry, what's your name? Jimmy? Splendid, Jimmy, could you get me a tall glass of orange juice? While he handles that, I will have discussions with you all to discuss my nation's entry into the World Assembly. My people are a small but mighty force - a village full of people who have united under the name of the Golden Fleece - " he lifts the fleece off of his shoulders, holding it in his forearms, "of this Golden Fleece."

He takes the orange juice from Jimmy, who prepared it while he finished his speech, and he takes a long sip. His beard drips twice after he finishes drinking. "Thank you, Jimmy."

Percy pulls in the bar's latest patron, whispering.... "Hey, buddy!" he says, "... does your village need any tactical missiles? Or a trebuchet or something? I'll hook you up for a fair price. We've got nukes too. But we only give those out to right hands, not left ones for legal reasons."

His intern, Chiara Montebello stroked Franklin, a (now elderly) chartreux, who snored blissfully by the fireplace.

Ms. Montebello called out to Percy, "Should you be selling arms here, boss?"

"What do you mean? Half the reason we're here is to sell arms to banana republics under the table," said Percy.

"What's the other half of the reason...?" said Chiara with a lump in her throat.

Percy pulled his sleeve down to reveal a tattoo across his forearm with the words: "OBSTRUCT. DELAY. CIRCUMVENT."

He then smiled and said "purely humanitarian reasons, Ms. Montebello, of course."

[Toonela]

Leo notes the two persons approaching the bar and picks up a long-stemmed glass containing a violently green fluid and two, possibly three different types of citrus fruit festooning the sides. He sidesteps away from his place at the bar, only then noticing a slight wet spot on his suit jacket where he'd literally bellied up to a spilled beverage - thankfully not his own, at least. Hoping the intensity of the ludicrous drink he's maneuvering draws eyes away from his obvious one-handed swiping with napkins, he nods slightly to the newcomers.

"Ahoy-hoy... folks," Leo says, aborting his usual sir-or-madam honorific at the last second before it would have become awkward. "I would grab that spot while the grabbing remains good. I recommend the house tequila - it's at the min-max point where affordable meets drinkable. And what's a first time in the diplomats' watering hole without a round of shots, am I right?"

He glances at the extremely young-looking diplomat and glances sideways theatrically a couple of times.

"Hell, you're old enough to represent your people, you're old enough to do it in style, yes? I shan't tell a soul if you don't."

Phaemas, the younger of the pair, smiles brightly and takes the seat gestured towards by Leo as Sophonisba stays a bit further back from the bar, more acutely taking in the still-new surroundings. If either noticed Leo's fervent 'cleaning up' routine, neither seemed much interested in saying anything about it.

"Hello! I'm old enough to be stylish, but might pass on the tequila for now. Thanks for the pointers! My name is Phaemas. What should I call you?" Phaemas says, somewhat breathlessly.

Sophonisba moved up to the bar in the intervening time, casting a concerned expression upon the latest vote tally from the General Assembly broadcasts and sighing softly. Perhaps refreshments on the stronger side, as far as taste profiles went, would be needed occasionally here.

[The Palentine]

A gorilla wearing a bowler hat and dressed like a 19th century saloon piano player walked into the bar carrying a feather duster and large expanding folder. He walked over to the piano and set the folder down on the floor. He then used the feather duster and cleaned off the piano, piano bench and busts of Scott Joplin and Beethovan, which were sitting on top of the piano. The bust of Beethovan sneezed from the dusting.

The Gorilla stopped and said, "Gesundheit!"

"Danke!", replied the bust.

Finished with his dusting the gorilla sat down on the bench, lifted the cover from the piano keys, and started to look through the folder. Pulling out some sheet music, he set the sheets on the music stand. He reached into his vest pocket and removed a fine Yeldan Cigar(tm), and lit it up. Afterr taking a few puffs he flexed his fingers and started playing The Pineapple Rag.

[The Palentine]

After he finished the Scott Joplin song, Philo paused just long enough to take a puff from his cigar. He then began to play a softly pleasant song while singing in a baritone voice,

"When the whipoorwill is singing in the forest.
When the little brook is murmering a tune.
When the mockingbird is chirping in the wildwood,
and the lonely wolf is howling at the moon...AROOOOOO!

When the leaves on the old oak tree start a rustling,
and the waterfall makes sounds like a woman's tears.

When the whole world is filled with Mother Nature's noises...
THATS THE TIME TO STUFF COTTON IN YOUR EARS!"

And with a dramatic flourish played, SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT, TWO BITS!

Philo then looked around at the bar patrons and laughed before returning his attention to the piano once again. A moment later he started to play Beethovan's Moonlight Sonata. As he played some of the patrons could swear they thought they could see the bust of Beethovan nod aporovingly in time to the music.

[American Pere Housh]

Vanny pulls out a notebook and began drawing various Pokémon while muttering in Spanish. She looked up at Philo and nodded at him before returning to her drawing while humming to the tune of the Wellerman song.

[Simone Republic]

"Good evening, delegates of the World Assembly. I thank you all for welcoming me into your... Strangers' Bar tonight. Speaking of which, bartender - I'm so sorry, what's your name? Jimmy? Splendid, Jimmy, could you get me a tall glass of orange juice? While he handles that, I will have discussions with you all to discuss my nation's entry into the World Assembly. My people are a small but mighty force - a village full of people who have united under the name of the Golden Fleece - " he lifts the fleece off of his shoulders, holding it in his forearms, "of this Golden Fleece."

He takes the orange juice from Jimmy, who prepared it while he finished his speech, and he takes a long sip. His beard drips twice after he finishes drinking. "Thank you, Jimmy."

The Bear offers another glass of (rather nice) Scottish single malt whiskey on rocks to the erstwhile ambassador.

[Simone Republic]

The Bear chokes on its whiskey looking at the Right to Self-Defence resolution coming up on the screen, vomits right next to Gaius Marcius Blythe, and then orders another whiskey.

"Sorry about the vomit", it said.

The Bear, upon hearing of the news on another television on another wall, proposes a toast to the long health of the New King.

[The Ice States]

A disembodied voice speaks in the bar. "By official decree of Emperor Sotolo II himself and the Lord of the Cosmos, the Ice Air Force will, in five minutes, commence bombing operations against the World Assembly headquarters due to its longstanding opposition to the values that are so well inscribed in the Holy Book of Klyprer. Ambassadors currently present should exit the WA Headquarters as soon as practicable for their own safety."

[Wallenburg]

Trevanyika sighs dramatically. "Finally, it's about time someone did what had to be done and cracked the headquarters' nullifiers. Neville, give me a martini. No, two martinis!"

[Heidgaudr]

Asgeir enters the Strangers' Bar for the first time during his tenure as ambassador and sits at the bar next to Trevanyika. "I'll have a mojito. If I'm going to the afterlife, it's going to be with a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other!" He pulls out a cigar from his jacket pocket and lights it.

[Simone Republic]

By official decree of Emperor Sotolo II himself and the Lord of the Cosmos, the Ice Air Force will, in five minutes, commence bombing operations against the World Assembly headquarters due to its longstanding opposition to the values that are so well inscribed in the Holy Book of Klyprer. Ambassadors currently present should exit the WA Headquarters as soon as practicable for their own safety.

The Bear orders another whiskey, this time an Islay one. "I drink to the NS multiverse".

[Spandon]

but then leaves cause alcohol is banned in The Empire of Spandon

[Wallenburg]

Trevanyika, thoroughly smashed after a third martini, grabs Asgeir's shoulder. "Oy, buddy, have those bombs dropped yet? I swearh it's been more than five minutsh."

[The Ice States]

As ambassadors in the Strangers' Bar comfortably drank and enjoyed what was possibly their last minutes, a fleet of aircraft arrived above the headquarters. The aircraft were adjusting their automated missile systems, above the nullifiers that had for so long protected the Headquarters for so long. What could go wrong?...

A secured transmission was sent to the fleet. "Attention. Air Force Divisions 39 - 44 and 46 - 70 are to participate in a specialised military exercise on the World Assembly Headquarters, which shall be a prolonged firebombing of the institution. While the Headquarters maintain weapons nullifiers that will destroy deployed weapons prior to being able to inflict damage upon the Headquarters, I expect that you will all make Klyprer proud. Now, let the bombing commence."

And so, just through the press of a button by the crew of each deployed unit, countless napalm fire bombs and chemical weapons began dropping on the World Assembly headquarters. Nobody expected the World Assembly headquarters to be destroyed in this, but the few weapons that missed the headquarters were already creating a spectacular display of fire around the WAHQ.

However, unfortunately, this was how the Nullifiers went into action. The units were having fun, but alas... a swarm of hundreds of kittens appeared from the roof of the headquarters. As the bombing continued, only more kittens appeared.

A Unit Commander turned on his radio, to address the Force Commander _

"Commander, should we continue despite our weapons being turned to literal felines?"

"Yes. Remember, while the WA Headquarters being used as a target of attack is a political choice due to the institution's hostility towards the Lord of the Cosmos and our nation, we do not intend to actually destroy the WA Headquarters, but rather be well-trained to be ready to defend the nation against the ongoing Czaslyudian hostilities."

"Yes, sir."

----

Meanwhile, in the Strangers' Bar, the ambassador of The Ice States -- well, Magecastle Embassy Building A5 -- calmly ordered despite the chaos occuring above him. "I would like a cup of wine and a bag of popcorn."

[Untecna]

The Untecnan Ambassador quietly orders himself a drink and takes a seat, sipping on it ominously.

[Heidgaudr]

Asgeir - also completely drunk - wobbles in his chair precariously. "I dunno. I haven't felt *hiccup* a thing. Maybe we ssshould ashk everbody elsh."

He turns around and addresses the rest of the Bar. "Hash the bombsh hit yet? *hiccup*"

[Unibot III]

-snip-

Chiara’s empty martini glasses rattled as a short tremor passed overhead, her dreadlocks dusted in drywall. She finished off her third strawberry margarita and pointed her finger drunkenly to Franklin the office cat who received her scorn with a blank look.

“Loooooook Mr. Winslow,” she said to Franklin, practicing her monologue in a slurred, manic tone, “I may be young, but you know I can DO THIS. I’m not just an assistant. I’m an Ambassssasssdor. I’m doing the work of three people, I expect to be PAID — hmmm hmm, that’s right — paid as three people. Like a trio—? A trinit—trilog—triangle?”

Franklin hisses and turns away.

“Don’t turn your back on me, Mr. Winslow! You don’t get to do that, now!” she said, wagging her finger drunkenly, her mood turning from angry to sad to bemused, happy, and lost, all in a moment. “Mr. Winslow. I am going to be the best ambassador that ever walked these halls.”

Her boss, Percy Winslow, standing beside her, replied back without hesitation: “I don’t doubt it for a moment.”

Chiara froze in sheer panic — “Mr. Winslow, I swear I haven’t beeeen drink(hic)ing,” she said in a slurred voice — turning to face Mr. Winslow in the eye. She found him wearing swim trunks and an oversized tropical shirt with a suitcase and a fruity cocktail in hand. Not only was it the first time she had seen her boss not wearing a suit, it was the first time she had seen him smile.

“MISTER … Winslow?” she said.

He laughed. “I’m off. Taking an extended leave. I’ve bought a one-way red-eye to Dagestaogni and a little boat. I’m going to sail the Eastern Ocean. Have an adventure. I reckon I’ll be back. Or maybe I’ll never come back. Who knows?”

“Ummmm, greeeeat,” said Chiara, still trying under the strain of three margaritas to make a good work impression.

“I’m naming you Interim Head Ambassador to the Third Unibotian Delegation in my absence,” said Percy. “I’ve just decided, I’m thirty. I’ve given this place my whole adolescence. The prime of my life wasted. And I don’t even like the WA! I woke up yesterday, started shaving and stopped — and wondered who would I be if I didn’t finish shaving? If I didn’t wear a tie? If I didn’t go to the chamber that morning? I’m done saying what other people have written for me. I looked myself in the mirror and said: I need to find out who I really am outside of this damn job.”

Turning to address Chiara with a more serious tone, he added “That said there are some very important rules for you to remember as an ambassador…”

He stopped mid-sentence as he realized Chiara was dead asleep, drooling down her blouse in a drunken stupor.

“Ms. Montebello…? Err, Ms. Montebello….?” he said.

Asgeir - also completely drunk - wobbles in his chair precariously. "I dunno. I haven't felt *hiccup* a thing. Maybe we ssshould ashk everbody elsh."

He turns around and addresses the rest of the Bar. "Hash the bombsh hit yet? *hiccup*"

Percy dropped his unfinished cocktail beside the good gentleman, saying “I think you’ll find that bomb is on its last life….wait, (shakes his head) I think you’ll find the bomb has landed on its feet, errr… wait, (shakes his head again) I think the cat’s out of the bomb, ambassador.”

He tossed the office keys onto Chiara’s lap and saluted her (“Good luck, Ms. Montebello.”) before heaving his suitcase through the stained glass window, laughing maniacally, and taking a running leap out of the building, cannonballing into the frigid waters of the Vastiva Memorial Reflecting Pool below.

”GERONNIIMMOOOOO—!!!”

[Wallenburg]

Trevanyika's gaze follows Winslow out the window and, even through the haze of her intoxication, catches on the unmistakable flash of artillery beyond the horizon. "Oh, it's happening! Finally...I was about to send myself to the inhfimurry again. Hey, hey, why dohn I hear concrete being blown apart? Whatabout the smell of asbestos 'n' blood mixing 'n rubble? Don't tell me your attack got nullified? That's fucking disappointing, is what...I need a drink. Neville!"

After waiting several minutes for Neville not to give her more alcohol, Trevanyika gets to her feet and slides down the bar toward where the disembodied voice originated. "Hey, wise guy! Whodoyathinkya are makin' promises like that? Yaoughtabe ashamed of yourself."

[Magecastle Embassy Building A5]

Ambassador Saverchenko-Colletti replies to Trevanyika _

"Well, ambassador, I'll be honest. While it was my nation that performed this attack, I think they didn't need to go all the way to the WA headquarters to attempt to bomb it knowing that it would be nullified. My guess is that either they genuinely did not know that there were nullifiers, or it is some training ex-"

As the ambassador speaks, the disembodied voice replies _

"The bombing of the WA Headquarters is merely a military exercise. The WA Headquarters were chosen as a target for this exercise due to their opposition to The Ice States' values."

The ambassador then orders to Neville, "I'd like another bag of popcorn, but this time only half-filled."

[Islead Medenes]

Thomas Shaw enters, visibly uncomfortable, and tries to navigate to the bar as inconspicuously as possible. He orders a lager and drops a handful of heavy silver coins on the counter. There's a handful of papers crumpled under his arm and he spreads them out, mumbling anxiously something about a Mr. Sykes and a Mr. Cross.

[Trans-Uralia]

Yakiv Žaboraǔ stumbles into the bar, already shitfaced Drunk. He tries to stumble to one of the seats but trips over himself multiple times. After sitting down, he orders three pints of beer. When he begins chugging the pints at a near alarming rate, he keeps muttering to himself something about immigrants and non-humans.

[Unibot III]

Ambassador Montebello, looking more tired and unbalanced than usual, raised her glass, and called out to the bar: “If anyone wants a nice office on the Seventh Floor, you’re welcome to take it if you pay my OMB Fees. Good wi-fi. The bauhaus art is a little tacky. My only condition is: don’t tell my management.”

Yakiv Žaboraǔ stumbles into the bar, already shitfaced Drunk. He tries to stumble to one of the seats but trips over himself multiple times. After sitting down, he orders three pints of beer. When he begins chugging the pints at a near alarming rate, he keeps muttering to himself something about immigrants and non-humans.

“Can you lower the muttering a little? Some of us are trying to hear the pre-match, pre-commentary commentary — it’s the World Cup, dammit!” said Chiara, eyeing the television closely, before muttering something about racists under her breath.

She nervously received the sport pundits’ nostrums over a margarita. The ambassador, feeling like she was attracting too much attention confided (unsolicitedly) to a neighbouring diplomat that she had bet “a lot” of money on Audioslavia.

“My last bet has put me in the hole, but I’ll get myself out! I just need that lucky break!” she said.

Thomas Shaw enters, visibly uncomfortable, and tries to navigate to the bar as inconspicuously as possible. He orders a lager and drops a handful of heavy silver coins on the counter. There's a handful of papers crumpled under his arm and he spreads them out, mumbling anxiously something about a Mr. Sykes and a Mr. Cross.

“Hey Long John Silver,” Chiara called out to Thomas, eyeing his money anxiously. “Want in on a bet? How’ll about fifty Eduards in cold hard cash that say the Sex Worker Protections Act bests 75% support? You wanna bet the under? Anybody else want in?”