The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[Sierra Lyricalia]

The hivemind's "abomination" followed Jasot, though not before sending two messages. The first was local, just getting some minor mischief started.

The second was relayed to the S.L. House of Diplomats via the contacts the hivemind had in miss Zakalwe's home system, with the request that it be relayed to her, whenever she returned to the system. There were factors that she needed to know, but which the plant entity hadn't had time to say. The message was encrypted to be opened only by her, as there was a question only she would know the answer to.

You have some right to be angry with me, miss Zakalwe, for accepting land taken from others. But them staying would have endangered them sooner or later. The island has a currently-active volcano on it, and shortly after the island-wide evacuation, the main habitation center was flooded by a lahar. There has been heavy ashfall in the area as well - so much of it that I have currently abandoned any attempts of rebuilding the human settlement before the eruption ceases entirely. On top of that there are my own experiments. I need open spaces far away from people, where I can test lifeforms that could potentially turn out to be deadly to other sapients. Doing such tests amongst unsuspecting civilian population is not something I wanted to even consider as a possibility. Additionally, the islanders played with fire, when they defied their lawful government, that their parents or grandparents voted into being. That they got treated as war refugees instead of traitors, was a concession miss Leveret helped me wrangle out of the Araraukarian system. Perhaps some day conditions on the island improve to the point where it is safe for humans, again, and I can invite at least some of them back. Whether they want to return, knowing that it is now a foreign nation, I'm not sure. Araraukarian mentality tends to be that everywhere foreign is worse than Araraukar.

I wish you well in your new homeland, and I'm sure we will talk in person later again.

Yours, the "greenery"

Leo enters the bar once again, looking in very sour sorts. His bolo tie is gone, his shirt opened at the neck and rather dirty and rumpled. The lines on his face, appearing jolly just a short time before, now give him a menacing aspect of vengeful old man. He stomps over to where the little group is gathered and pointedly ignores Gil.

"Your verdancy, I have been directed to inform you personally, and I quote: 'The House of Diplomats is a national foreign relations agency, not a messenger service. Find her yourself. Signed, E.S. Valerii.'"

His expression softens slightly. "Tempers are running a bit hot, you understand. Defections to the Belt-" Leo continues to ignore Gil standing right next to him, listening to every word "-have skyrocketed lately for some reason, and this was the biggest fish they've landed so far. I am completely in the godsdamned dark, half my friends in government won't give me more than the time of day, and things seem to be coming to a head. I understand humans have poor reaction to rumors, but there is something else afoot here. And you-" he suddenly turns and stabs a finger right in Gil's face, "-are either the spawn of the devil himself, or my closest friend and ally - and nothing anyone can say can give me any indication which!"

Leo swallows before continuing. "I must be desperate - here I am narrating this strategic clusterfuck of a situation to a possible enemy, a space marine representing a possibly catastrophically hostile star empire, and a walking, talking aspidistra. No offense intended, et cetera, et cetera."

He sits and sighs, tiredly. "Barkeep, I require a beverage. This is a multiversal nexus, perhaps anything is possible. Might you be able to produce for me a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster? I have always wanted to order one of those. And if its reputed effects are accurate, I really do require it right now."

[Potted Plants United]

Gil glances at the green being's legs and raises his eyebrows. "'Potted,' huh? Congratulations on escaping your essential biological handicap. Yes, indeed, we hope Sgt. Zakalwe proves extremely helpful. I imagine she will be, and not just in the military sense. Although what with all those alien rumors flying around, the sudden mass migrations to the Belt, and the increased security patrols by the so-called 'Great Powers' - things are coming to a head and we are doing great in some areas and horribly unprepared in others. I wasn't exaggerating when I said we need zero-g combat training more than anything else right now."

"Alien rumours? Are we talking about child-like things with big heads and eyes, or insect-like relentless predators with acid for blood? Or something else entirely? Living in a place like this can really make it difficult to imagine something truly alien," the hivemind explained. "However, if you need microgravity combat training assistance, I wonder if you would like to view some simulations I've made. Perhaps you, too, miss Rehlan? I believe there are ordinary tools and items that could be used in surprising ways in microgravity combat, such as a long line or flexible wire of some sort."

"Glad to hear it. I've heard that from other sources, but it's still a bit far-fetched, don't ya think? I mean, what are they, magic? Forgive a guy a little skepticism. Especially in the presence of... did you say giant carnivorous bats? How exactly does a so-called 'weapons nullifier' protect a guy from a fang to the jugular?"

"There are nations whose representatives seem to use what would be called actual magic, but it may just be technology so advanced that they don't understand it either, and so call it magic instead. And the bats are not actual bats, so think less vampire sucking your blood and more a flying shark taking your head off. But they are sapient like you or miss Rehlan, so they can be reasoned with. But if I was you, I wouldn't be outside at night; the Nullifiers' effect is unreliable outside the building." New guy hazing indeed; the hivemind knew better than most that higher powers, or at least one of them, wouldn't let the Tikrr hunt sapients in this environment. Well, almost certainly anyway.

Leo enters the bar once again, looking in very sour sorts. His bolo tie is gone, his shirt opened at the neck and rather dirty and rumpled. The lines on his face, appearing jolly just a short time before, now give him a menacing aspect of vengeful old man. He stomps over to where the little group is gathered and pointedly ignores Gil.

"Your verdancy, I have been directed to inform you personally, and I quote: 'The House of Diplomats is a national foreign relations agency, not a messenger service. Find her yourself. Signed, E.S. Valerii.'"

"I didn't know you had trans-universal communication methods, to react this fast," the hivemind said quietly, more to itself than Leo.

His expression softens slightly. "Tempers are running a bit hot, you understand. Defections to the Belt-" Leo continues to ignore Gil standing right next to him, listening to every word "-have skyrocketed lately for some reason, and this was the biggest fish they've landed so far. I am completely in the godsdamned dark, half my friends in government won't give me more than the time of day, and things seem to be coming to a head. I understand humans have poor reaction to rumors, but there is something else afoot here. And you-" he suddenly turns and stabs a finger right in Gil's face, "-are either the spawn of the devil himself, or my closest friend and ally - and nothing anyone can say can give me any indication which!"

Leo swallows before continuing. "I must be desperate - here I am narrating this strategic clusterfuck of a situation to a possible enemy, a space marine representing a possibly catastrophically hostile star empire, and a walking, talking aspidistra. No offense intended, et cetera, et cetera."

Though the humanoid plant thing didn't have visible eyes, it still turned its head from one to the other, to include its three tablemates. "First of all, I am difficult to offend, properly, so on my part you don't have to worry about it. Secondly, for all I knew, mister Ro's associates could have blackmailed or otherwise threatened miss Zakalwe to make her go peacefully with them; I had no real way to confirm anything but to reach out to your government, mister... Pavonis, I think? And while you may call him a devil's spawn, even if mister Ro's associates had indeed somehow pressganged miss Zakalwe against her will, I would not consider him an enemy. Although I have to say I am personally quite fond of her - I consider her a personal friend - and would prefer no harm to come to her. From anyone's actions. However, if your home system is devolving into a war, then it is obvious that her life may be in danger. Mister Ro, how can I get in contact with your people, to make contact with miss Zakalwe once she has returned home?"

He sits and sighs, tiredly. "Barkeep, I require a beverage. This is a multiversal nexus, perhaps anything is possible. Might you be able to produce for me a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster? I have always wanted to order one of those. And if its reputed effects are accurate, I really do require it right now."

"No, that is not the one you want or should have," the hivemind said, its humanoid form standing up and moving to the bar counter, where it said a couple of words that the universal translator system basically just shrugged at, and shortly after returned to the table with a metal goblet filled with a black liquid and topped with a pane of glass. The visual effect was that the glass was there to keep the drink from escaping. Setting the drink before Leo, the hivemind's humanoid creature sat down again. "This is a curiosity I've run into only twice; once here, once... elsewhere. You should not leave the effective range of the Weapons Nullifiers for at least fifteen minutes after drinking that, so do consider carefully whether you truly want to set your worries aside for a while, and feel more trust in strangers."

OOC: At least four popculture references, and no, not counting vampires as one, are hidden in things I've written in this post. TG me your guesses on which ones they are and where they're from.

[Bears Armed]

"And it's not a hellhole. You've never been in the Interior, you foreigners can't pass judgement sight-unseen. This place, though," she gestured widely at the bar, "Is a hellhole. We've got sentient grass," she gave a sharp gesture to the Hivemind, once it was done introducing itself, "There's an old skull in the corner that people tell me's cursed or something, and if somebody doesn't like you, they throw you out that window." She finished with another sharp gesture to stained glass window of Ambassador Benjamin Bell, Patron Saint of Bad Ideas.

"You forgot the giant carnivorous bats that randomly drop down on you if you've made noises that sound like their natural prey or if your heartbeat is elevated, since they can hear that too; or the talking cats that are dangerous only if you're something small and furry that squeaks when pounced on; or any number of various robotic or cybernetic sapients that may or may not have been urged to seek their freedom by the Bar-goers." The humanoid plant thing focused on Gil. "You will get used to this place - well, as used to as is possible, anyway - within a week. Getting thrown out of the window is never fatal, by the way, and in here and the debate halls you cannot be fatally attacked because of the Weapons Nullifiers."

"And the screwy way in which the flow of time in here doesn't always correspond to the flow of time outside, so that some people have actually come "back" in from other parts of the building before they left here on the first paw..." Artorrios murmurs.

[Xanthal]

Riley takes a seat on a stool by the pool table, deciding just to enjoy the show for a bit.

[Greater Cesnica]

McCooley joins Riley in quietly observing the organized chaos of this bar.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

..."Your verdancy, I have been directed to inform you personally, and I quote: 'The House of Diplomats is a national foreign relations agency, not a messenger service. Find her yourself. Signed, E.S. Valerii.'"

[i]"I didn't know you had trans-universal communication methods, to react this fast," the hivemind said quietly, more to itself than Leo.

OOC: As Bears kindly pointed out IC, time is screwy in the Bar. The message ought to be a few days old on delivery.

He sits and sighs, tiredly. "Barkeep, I require a beverage. This is a multiversal nexus, perhaps anything is possible. Might you be able to produce for me a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster? I have always wanted to order one of those. And if its reputed effects are accurate, I really do require it right now."

"No, that is not the one you want or should have," the hivemind said, its humanoid form standing up and moving to the bar counter, where it said a couple of words that the universal translator system basically just shrugged at, and shortly after returned to the table with a metal goblet filled with a black liquid and topped with a pane of glass. The visual effect was that the glass was there to keep the drink from escaping. Setting the drink before Leo, the hivemind's humanoid creature sat down again. "This is a curiosity I've run into only twice; once here, once... elsewhere. You should not leave the effective range of the Weapons Nullifiers for at least fifteen minutes after drinking that, so do consider carefully whether you truly want to set your worries aside for a while, and feel more trust in strangers."

Leo looks extremely intrigued at the cup that is placed before him, and seems just about to lift the small plate of glass and sniff at the contents when the plant creature reaches the part about 'trust in strangers.' He recoils immediately, his face a wide-eyed rictus of terror. "Trust?" he thunders, astonished. "In complete strangers? Have you never been on the receiving end of a conspiracy, your chlorophyllic excellency? Or have your plasmablasts just turned red? Imagine you're in a room with some people, most of whom care not, one way or the other, but one or two of whom are the chief executives of enormous herbicide manufacturers, and some friend offers you a drink that makes you trusting of strangers. Do you propose to roofie me, verdancy? I suspect you mean no harm, and I thank you for what must be your kindness, but dear gods! Perhaps I'd best stick with a double-strong margarita."

Leo receives his requested beverage, golden-green in a glass rimmed with large crystals of salt and a couple of lime wedges, and takes a couple of hefty gulps. "Then again, a taste probably can't hurt... right?" And he grabs the glass off the top of the metal goblet, takes a very modest sip, and sets them down as they were, finally pushing the goblet beyond casual reach. "Interesting, that. Talk of roofies aside, what are the various flavors I am tasting, here? It's- hmmmmmmmm," he half-sighs as his tense muscles relax just a touch. "Nice. Nice, indeed," he half-growls, "and... well, that had better be the limit."

[Potted Plants United]

Leo looks extremely intrigued at the cup that is placed before him, and seems just about to lift the small plate of glass and sniff at the contents when the plant creature reaches the part about 'trust in strangers.' He recoils immediately, his face a wide-eyed rictus of terror. "Trust?" he thunders, astonished. "In complete strangers? Have you never been on the receiving end of a conspiracy, your chlorophyllic excellency?"

"Seventeen times and counting," the plant humanoid muttered under its breath.

"Do you propose to roofie me, verdancy?"

Again, likely too quietly for it to be caught by its table-mates, the hivemind said to itself, "If I was, I would have kept knowledge of any peculiar effects to myself..."

"Then again, a taste probably can't hurt... right?" And he grabs the glass off the top of the metal goblet, takes a very modest sip, and sets them down as they were, finally pushing the goblet beyond casual reach. "Interesting, that. Talk of roofies aside, what are the various flavors I am tasting, here? It's- hmmmmmmmm," he half-sighs as his tense muscles relax just a touch. "Nice. Nice, indeed," he half-growls, "and... well, that had better be the limit."

For all its experience with the unpredictability of humans, the hivemind was astonished at this. Leo suspected some kind of drugging attempt, feared his altered mindstate might make him trust the wrong people and say something that got him in trouble, and still drank. The hivemind was suddenly reminded of the Wrapperian Wads, and the occasional behaviour of mister Bell. Perhaps it was some kind of a male human blind spot at the prospect of a free drink. Deciding to test the idea rightaway, it reached for the drink, replaced the glass pane lid just in case, and then slid it over the table towards Gil.

"Perhaps if you drink as well, mister Pavonis won't feel so foolish after the effect dissipates?" it suggested.

[Denathor]

Callahan enters the bar with a stack of papers under his arm and his glasses slightly askew. Noting how quiet the bar is, he glances up and notes the plant-based hivemind sitting at the bar. He nods slowly as if trying to convince himself that everything is normal and heads for an empty table, where he immediately starts marking up his notes.

[Separatist Peoples]

Something deep within the wine cellar of the Bar began to stir, awoken by the distant sounds of activity. For an age, it had slept. But no more.

In the darkness and dankness, it slinked out of its den, winding it's way through the dusty maze of bottles and liquors slowly turning to vinegar. It climbed the staircase with sinister grace, threw the heft of it's body against the trapdoor leading to the Bar. It emerged.

The light struck it's eyes, and it blinked in surprise. It did had forgotten the light. But hunger drove it onward, towards the ambassador sitting alone at the table. Its gaze sharpened. There. A meal.

It dashed forward, intent on it's target, and...bleated?

Chuckie the goat, covered in the dust of multitudinous eons (or perhaps it was only a few hours? Who knows in the WA?) walked up and took mighty mouthful of several of Callahan's notes for his post-sleep meal.

[Denathor]

Callahan looked over the edge of the table at the goat eating some of his notes, and carefully moved the ones he felt were more important to the other side of the table, hopefully away from Chuckie's mouth. He scowled slightly as he realized one of his more recent drafts was currently being enjoyed as a snack by the goat. Tentatively, he brushed a bit of dust off of Chuckie and returned to his work.

"I guess I’ll have to ask my secretary to print off more copies of those."

[Xanthal]

Riley's face lights up at Chuckie's appearance; he leaves Slick behind, moving to the Denathoran's table. Riley bends down and searches the goat's eyes for... intelligence? A soul? First impressions about sapience can be misleading, especially around here. Whatever he thought he might be looking for, he doesn't find it.

"Hey there, buddy!" the Xanthalian addresses the animal, then straightens up. He looks to Neville for cues, but the bartender is otherwise occupied. Riley turns to Callahan instead, absently placing his hand on Chuckie's head, scratching gently but firmly between his horns. "Sorry about that. Would you like some company?"

[Araraukar]

OOC: Should check this: viewtopic.php?p=21629518#p21629518

[Denathor]

Callahan stared intently at the goat, certain he was missing some sort of clue that would confirm that something about Chuckie was supernatural. The goat stared back at him for a few seconds, then bleated. Unconvinced that the goat was what he appeared to be, he turned to Riley.

"I’d be glad for a bit of company. Ambassadorship is hard work, or at least that’s what I tell my superiors. Shall we get something to drink? I could go for a scotch."

[Separatist Peoples]

Scratches are good, but meals are better. Chuckie leaned against the Good Stranger for a moment in affection, then surged forward for another bite of the Staring Stranger's stationary. It was not as good as the Talky Man's stationary, or as good as raspberries and sunflower seeds, but it was full of the flavor Chuckie loved most: Inconvenience.

Chuckie took another mouthful of the most important looking documents he could reach.

[Xanthal]

"Oh, I suppose it's been long enough. I have to watch my alcohol intake you know; it's easy to overdo it here, and the Triumvirate frowns on its representatives stumbling around in public. Neville!" He waves at the bartender. "A scotch and a beer, please."

Riley looks back down at the table and Callahan's rapidly shrinking pile of papers. "Hungry fella, isn't he?"

[Denathor]

Callahan picked himself up off the floor, as he had fallen off of his chair when Chuckie had lunged across the table to reach his notes.

"Yes, I suppose he is. Unfortunate for me, as those were the only copies I had printed out. Oh well, I guess my secretary, Thomas, will have to print out more than I anticipated."

Callahan sighed in resignation as he gathered up whatever papers he had left and placed the stack on the floor for Chuckie to finish. He scratched the goat's head as Chuckie happily tore through the rest of the papers.

"Quite an interesting place we have here."

[Xanthal]

"More polite terms than I probably would've used on my first visit; believe it or not, you do get used to it."

Riley walks to the bar and retrieves their drinks, returning directly. He hands the scotch to Callahan directly rather than setting it on the table- just in case Chuckie is looking for something to wash his meal down. Selecting his own seat directly across from the Denathoran, he cups the beer glass in his hands and smiles affably.

"I don't recall seeing you around before. Have you been here long?"

[Denathor]

Callahan took a sip of his scotch before he responded.

"Not around these parts, no. I’ve only been ambassador for a few months. Our old one wasn’t super involved with the process of creating legislation. He just always voted with the majority. I guess the higher ups decide that they wanted some more input on the laws that were being imposed on them, so they dismissed him and here I am. I’ve done some negotiations as part of our nation's military, but nothing like this. It’s quite a new experience."

[Xanthal]

"You'll never meet a crew quite as motley as the General Assembly. I've been here almost as long as the World Assembly has existed, excluding the times Xanthal has spent out of the WA. In fact, my country is on a bit of a hiatus right now- except instead of quitting outright this time the Triumvirate has merely 'suspended' our membership," he uses air quotes to emphasize the word 'suspended,' "which basically means I get to keep my office, but I'm not allowed to actually do my job. ...I spend a lot of time in the Strangers' Bar these days."

Riley takes a quick drink from his glass, then reaches a hand across the table. "I'm Riley Fluffer. Official Observer, Federated Democratic States of Xanthal."

[Denathor]

Callahan grasps Riley's hand and cracks a dry smile.

"They call me Sir Lucas Callahan, from the Holy Edorian Empire of Denathor, but I rarely use my honorific except for formal events, which drinking at a bar hardly counts as. I prefer to keep things informal, so Callahan works fine."

Callahan takes another sip of his drink, glances at Chuckie to ensure he’s still occupied with the other papers and takes out his phone to send someone an email.

"It is quite a motley crew, but I think I’m working fairly well with them. Except maybe Ambassador Bell, but we’re making progress."

[Xanthal]

"Ah, Benjamin..." Riley's smile goes lopsided for a moment, as though he were entertaining some private joke. The knowing glint in his eye makes it clear he's no stranger. "He can be presumptuous and combative, but don't mistake that for bluster: his self assurance is usually warranted. You're fortunate if you're working with him already."

Riley takes a pause to drink before continuing. "I've found Ambassador Bell to be uncommonly trustworthy. Rarer yet, he's equally so whether you're arguing with him or against him. If you don't already you'll soon appreciate just how valuable that can be here. If it helps, I benefit the most from our encounters when I focus on his point rather than his choice of words; at the very least it keeps my blood pressure lower."

[The Palentine]

It had been awhile, but the good but unwholesome Senator once again returned to the Stranger's bar with two rather fetching Thessadorian Catgirls accompaning him. As the catgirls settled at a table, Sulla went up to the bar to order the drinks. "Jimmy, my boy. A Wild Turkey on the Rocks and two Blue Marlins." As he turned to the bar he cleared his throat an made an announcement,

" May I have your attention fellow Snakepit denizens. In honor of the Festering Snakepit HQ repeal getting quashed, I'm buying the first round in celebration...its a short month, and,I need to pad my expense account. "

Gathering up his drinks, he went to sit down with his lovely companions.

[Bears Armed Mission]

It had been awhile, but the good but unwholesome Senator once again returned to the Stranger's bar with two rather fetching Thessadorian Catgirls accompaning him. As the catgirls settled at a table, Sulla went up to the bar to order the drinks. "Jimmy, my boy. A Wild Turkey on the Rocks and two Blue Marlins." As he turned to the bar he cleared his throat an made an announcement,

" May I have your atention fellow Snakepit denizens. In honor of the Festering Snakepit HQ repeal getting quashed, I'm buying the first rohnd in celebration...its a short month, and,I need to pad my expense account. "

Gathering up his drinks, he went to sit down with his lovely companions.

Artorrios gives a friendly nod in of acknowledgment to the Senator as he passes him on his way across to the bar. There' he orders his usual (when somebody else is buying like this) drink: a pint of Bailey's Irish Cream.

[Canogally]

A gentleman in a suit and tie enters the bar. He scans the bar, a quizzical look on his face.
Screw this, he whispers
LETS PARTY!
[he rips off his tie and blazer]

[Sierra Lyricalia]

Leo looks askance at the man starting to remove his clothes and mutters, "I didn't think Chippendale Night was on until Saturday, else I'd've brought my velcro suit. Nice to see someone having a good time, I suppose."

He obtains another margarita and lifts it in the good (Good? Well, generous, anyway, he thinks) Senator's direction before touching his tongue to the salt on the rim of the glass.