The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[The Tomb Keepers]

She looked up and said, "Hello. I am Baronness Seija Fatine, ambassador to the World Assembly. I just go by Seija. Um, thanks for the drink. Not to be rude, but how may I call you in casual conversation?"

"Casual conversation? Well, if I am to call you Seija, you better call me Christine." The Princess smiled. "And if you ever feel like you need to be more formal, Your Royal Highness is technically the most appropriate form of address, but that isn't very casual, is it? Mind if I have a seat?"

Christine noticed someone coming back out from the salon - who was that? Was that...? No, it couldn't be... or could it? Yes, it must be... Neville?

"Seija, you wouldn't think there was just some kind of temporal anomaly in here, would you? I could swear Neville just got younger and much more... um, photogénique, if you know what I mean." Christine gave her new acquaintance a coy look.

"Photogenic? ... Ah, yes, picture-worthy. This is not my first language." Seija thought for a bit. "Wait, what was that look?"

[Soviet Canuckistan]

Friedman answers the threat with a very slushy snowball to the back of the head. Ortega stumbles out the front door. "And stay out! Goddamn fundy assholes..." He looks at Erin knowingly, "I thought I had one more. Thanks for holding onto it." She smiles weakly, says "Thank you," and leaves the bar.

Friedman realizes he's made a scene once again, "Er...sorry about that, folks, just a bit of local trouble spilling over, how about a round of drinks on me?"

"Five barrels of vodka please and mre beaver fields for Simone." Sergei yelled.

[Alqania]

"Casual conversation? Well, if I am to call you Seija, you better call me Christine." The Princess smiled. "And if you ever feel like you need to be more formal, Your Royal Highness is technically the most appropriate form of address, but that isn't very casual, is it? Mind if I have a seat?"

Christine noticed someone coming back out from the salon - who was that? Was that...? No, it couldn't be... or could it? Yes, it must be... Neville?

"Seija, you wouldn't think there was just some kind of temporal anomaly in here, would you? I could swear Neville just got younger and much more... um, photogénique, if you know what I mean." Christine gave her new acquaintance a coy look.

"Photogenic? ... Ah, yes, picture-worthy. This is not my first language." Seija thought for a bit. "Wait, what was that look?"

"What look? I just thought our dear BarLord looked better all of a sudden, a bit unrealistically better from just getting a haircut. But I guess with him there might be magic involved. Oh, really, you could have fooled me, but what is your first language then?"

[The Tomb Keepers]

"Photogenic? ... Ah, yes, picture-worthy. This is not my first language." Seija thought for a bit. "Wait, what was that look?"

"What look? I just thought our dear BarLord looked better all of a sudden, a bit unrealistically better from just getting a haircut. But I guess with him there might be magic involved. Oh, really, you could have fooled me, but what is your first language then?"

"Tchersvi. It's my nation's native language. It is very different than english. It is made of a series of varying musical notes. It is extroadinarily dificult for foreigners to learn. What is your native language?"

[Black Marne]

Connopolis still maintains a presence here. In fact one of their proposals was just passed recently, but the Sovreignry Astronomical Society has reported in their most recent reports that they cannot locate any of the known Dizyntk planets in their telescopes. I added the black hole part.

Dr. Forshaw marched into the bar, intent on drinking away his troubles - what these troubles were, he was unsure of, although it was certainly quite the excuse to drink superfluously. However, this instance was not any ordinary trip to the bar - the ancient envoy noted two particular ambassadors, in which he assumed were abducted by an agent of the Connopolian Commission on Premediated Abduction a Connopolian Diplomatic Corp Officer; evidently, they had merely went on indefinite sabbaticals. He spoke, through arched eyebrows, "Weebam-Na, Lord Raekevik, what pleasures to see you both in good health! I must admit, in your absenses, these halls have been rather dull - I can only assume the presence of such respected ambassadors will help ignite the excitement. Might I offer you two drinks?"

The ancient envoy pulled out two seats, circumspectly avoiding those of Feyalisa and Dr. Mason, and motioned the two ambassadors to sit down.

"Excellent! Just the man I've been looking for! I apologize for the delay of my return to these halls. Those damned Dunmer tried to retake their land. And I have to admit, they put up quite a fight. Excellent mages and fighters, those Dunmer are. Unfortunately for them, we were just as good in those fields, with the addition of being profound at remaining hidden when we wish. But, that aside, what happened to Lady Feyalisa and the rest of the Dizyntk? I've heard some odd rumors here about their planets being sucked into a black hole..." trailed off Weebam-Na, hoping that it wasn't true.

[Shane Patrick MacGowan]

*Walks in to the Bar, and drinks fifteen pints of beer*

[Sovreignry]

Dr. Forshaw marched into the bar, intent on drinking away his troubles - what these troubles were, he was unsure of, although it was certainly quite the excuse to drink superfluously. However, this instance was not any ordinary trip to the bar - the ancient envoy noted two particular ambassadors, in which he assumed were abducted by an agent of the Connopolian Commission on Premediated Abduction a Connopolian Diplomatic Corp Officer; evidently, they had merely went on indefinite sabbaticals. He spoke, through arched eyebrows, "Weebam-Na, Lord Raekevik, what pleasures to see you both in good health! I must admit, in your absenses, these halls have been rather dull - I can only assume the presence of such respected ambassadors will help ignite the excitement. Might I offer you two drinks?"

The ancient envoy pulled out two seats, circumspectly avoiding those of Feyalisa and Dr. Mason, and motioned the two ambassadors to sit down.

"Excellent! Just the man I've been looking for! I apologize for the delay of my return to these halls. Those damned Dunmer tried to retake their land. And I have to admit, they put up quite a fight. Excellent mages and fighters, those Dunmer are. Unfortunately for them, we were just as good in those fields, with the addition of being profound at remaining hidden when we wish. But, that aside, what happened to Lady Feyalisa and the rest of the Dizyntk? I've heard some odd rumors here about their planets being sucked into a black hole..." trailed off Weebam-Na, hoping that it wasn't true.

I was participating in black humor about the black hole part. I'm sure that the fact that Sovreignry's telescopes were unable to find them is due to some sort of error on our part. Especially if the Queendom of Alqania is still in contact with their ambassadors to Dizyntk.

[Smullania]

"Um. Excuse me?"

Connopolis still maintains a presence here. In fact one of their proposals was just passed recently, but the Sovreignry Astronomical Society has reported in their most recent reports that they cannot locate any of the known Dizyntk planets in their telescopes. I added the black hole part.

I hadn't known that it ripped away part of a universe when I tossed that weird box I found deep under the WA building through their portal.

Splendid. A work of art if I do say so myself."

"Dear ... gods ..."

Neville gazed in awe at the reflection. "I look ... younger. And even handsomer." He tried out several expressions, pouting just a little, raising one eyebrow. But as he perched fetchingly on one arm of the chair in order to get a better view of his left profile, a muscle twinged a sharp reminder of the morning's exertions unloading stock, and a dreadful thought struck the BarLord.

"Uh ... my job's a bit, you know, physical. Is there any way I can, sorta, keep it like that?"

Franz, recognising the signs of Post Successful Hairdo Syndrome. leapt into action. He loaded Neville with technologically advanced CADD-created combs that actually combed, plus discreet black matte bottles and tubes with the salon's red logo. Together, he promised, these would perform prodigies of conditioning, moisturising, style retention, gloss, vitamins, de-frizz, unsplit ends, thickener, natural waves and, in general, hair that would make Galactic Emperors of whatever gender cast aside their thrones for just one second of his attention.

"It's ... magic," Neville breathed, handing over his credit card with uncharacteristic calm. He strutted back into the Bar, accompanied, he was sure, by a swelling symphony, and caught the eye of a harried Violet.

"Wwweeellllllll," she said. "Well, well, well."

"Damn. I want to get a haircut now. I'll go see how they're business is, and maybe it won't be too crowded."

The Master quickly trotted over to the door. Unfortunately, he bumped his head rather hard and stumbled all the way to the door in the back, which he opened. A screaming could be heard, and then the Master sprinted to Neville.

"RUN!!!!!!! AND TURN OFF THE NEUTRALIZERS!"

[Xeraph]

"The W.A. Stranger's Bar? You wanna go in there? What the fuck for?" Dingus tried to find a clean spot on his greasy tunic to wipe his hands but gave up when he felt something moist.

Gimmi grinned, showing his tooth. "Y'know, it wouldn't hurt ya to widen yer horizons a bit! Always stuck down dere in da hole. Shovelin'. I heard tell some right interestin' folks wander in and outta dere!"

"Yeah. Interestin'. Dat's the word. I'd be willin' to bet that the cops are interested in some of 'em, too. No, not a good place to hang out."

"Aw c'mon Ding! Let's go check it out at least. My cousin's neighbor's brother-in-law said dey got the best meat pies in town. And somethin' they call Pink Tacos. Sounds yummy, eh?"

Dingus shook his head. "You go iffn ya want. I'll stay out here. If you come back in relatively decent shape, then I might consider it."

Dingus waved at him. "OK, Chickenshit! Y'all just wait and see!" He headed across the rutted, mud-caked street and went up the steps to the bar. As he peeked over the swinging doors..............

Dingus peered thru the smoke that permeated the bar. Many men, a few women. He ambled over to a rather buxom waitress and asked, "Hey Toots! Whatta I gotta do to get a drink around here?"

The waitress, whose voice sounded less than feminine, gruffly said, "Two things, Homer. My name 'aint Toots and if y'all got a fin ya can have anything ya want." She lowered her tone. "Anything...."

"Well, dats right nice of ya, Toots. Can I get me one of them meat pies I heard tell about wit a gin fizzy?"

She looked at him quizzically. "You 'aint from around these parts, are ya Homer? What da fuck is a gin fizzy?"

"Listen, sweetheart, whattya stupid or sumpthin'? It's gin wit fizzy in it. And a meat pie. Unnerstand?"

"Don't get fresh wit me, Junior. I just work here. You want somethin' fizzy, you gotta talk to the barkeep. Now, where do you want the meat pie"?, she said with a glint in her eye.

Dingus scratched his head. "Well, I reckon I'll take it on a plate, ifn ya don't mind, Toots. And the drink in a glass." He tossed a few coins on her serving tray and headed towards an empty table in the corner. Some guy mumbled something about all the mud on his boots, so Dingus gave him The Finger as he sat down.

Don "Dingus" Mcgee wasn't as backward as he acted. He was a professor of Strategy and Logistics at the University of Ravennii, Ravennii being the capitol of the Xeraphian Empire. He had been called upon by the Emperor himself to do a favor for him. The Emperor knew that Don had been an actor in his younger days and could easily perform a sort of skit wherein he posed as a country bumpkin visiting an international city with people from all over the planet. His acting ability coupled with his near-photographic memory made Don a natural for the job. All he had to do was listen and pay attention and report back.

So there he sat, a half-stupid, shit-eating grin on his broad, pockmarked face, hands folded over his ample stomach looking for all the world like a third-world farmboy contemplating his meat pie. What he was doing was going over some of the maxims of Sun Tzu, of whom Don was a disciple. He settled on his favorite: "All strategy is based on deception".

Yes...true, he thought. Very, very true................

[Soviet Canuckistan]

Sergei sighed "Want to know what this bar needs karaoke or rap battling."

[Ardchoille]

<snip> ... So there he sat, a half-stupid, shit-eating grin on his broad, pockmarked face, hands folded over his ample stomach looking for all the world like a third-world farmboy contemplating his meat pie. <snip>

Violet had been trying all morning not to say anything about Jimmy's dress. So he wanted to wear a dress, so what? It hadn't fazed the incredibly polished-looking Neville, though that probably had something to do with the fact that the BarLord didn't seem able to stop admiring his new hairdo in any nearby reflective surface. Nobody in their right mind would ever call Jimmy a reflective surface.

So far she'd been able to keep quiet. She'd never realised before how huge Jimmy's feet were', and for her part she thought the frilly apron was overdoing it -- Violet had never found any need for a frilly apron, though she might wear one if she was feeling particularly girly. Possibly that was Jimmy's motive, too. Certainly he was doing a good job of flirting with that new cus -- uh, oh.

"I'm so sorry, sir, here's your cutlery at last," she apologised as she dashed over (wasn't that just like Jimmy, to forget something so vital! she told herself, exasperated). "And here's your napkin, and some water -- I'll just go fetch the condiments. And would you like me to bring you back something to drink? We have tea, coffee, the standard soft drinks and juices, of course, and our alcoholic selection includes ..."

As she droned through the drinks list on automatic pilot, she eyed the newcomer and tried to place him in her encyclopaedic memory of the GA's diplomats. Nope, this one came up new. Righto, then: "As this is your first visit to the Bar, naturally drinks are on the house. Will your delegation be opening an account here? I could get the BarLord to come over here and see to the details -- that's him over there, his name is Neville NotThatOne Chamberlain ... oh, and I'm Violet Bracket." She smiled encouragingly at the odd little man.

[Xeraph]

<snip> ... So there he sat, a half-stupid, shit-eating grin on his broad, pockmarked face, hands folded over his ample stomach looking for all the world like a third-world farmboy contemplating his meat pie. <snip>

Violet had been trying all morning not to say anything about Jimmy's dress. So he wanted to wear a dress, so what? It hadn't fazed the incredibly polished-looking Neville, though that probably had something to do with the fact that the BarLord didn't seem able to stop admiring his new hairdo in any nearby reflective surface. Nobody in their right mind would ever call Jimmy a reflective surface.

So far she'd been able to keep quiet. She'd never realised before how huge Jimmy's feet were', and for her part she thought the frilly apron was overdoing it -- Violet had never found any need for a frilly apron, though she might wear one if she was feeling particularly girly. Possibly that was Jimmy's motive, too. Certainly he was doing a good job of flirting with that new cus -- uh, oh.

"I'm so sorry, sir, here's your cutlery at last," she apologised as she dashed over (wasn't that just like Jimmy, to forget something so vital! she told herself, exasperated). "And here's your napkin, and some water -- I'll just go fetch the condiments. And would you like me to bring you back something to drink? We have tea, coffee, the standard soft drinks and juices, of course, and our alcoholic selection includes ..."

As she droned through the drinks list on automatic pilot, she eyed the newcomer and tried to place him in her encyclopaedic memory of the GA's diplomats. Nope, this one came up new. Righto, then: "As this is your first visit to the Bar, naturally drinks are on the house. Will your delegation be opening an account here? I could get the BarLord to come over here and see to the details -- that's him over there, his name is Neville NotThatOne Chamberlain ... oh, and I'm Violet Bracket." She smiled encouragingly at the odd little man.

"OK, Violet, thanks. I already ordered a gin fizzy from dat other broad, the one wit the deep voice." He grinned and gave her the once over. "Say, honey, what say you and me have a little get together later on, eh? You prettier than a peach full o' fuzz!" The woman was apparently somehow attached to the one he called Toots though the parameters of what they could possibly have in common made his head hurt. Don made a mental note that it seemed that anything goes here in this place, a regular Sodom and Gomorrah. He felt down alongside his mud-covered boot to make sure that the knife was still there, just in case. He glanced over at the next table and overheard a guy named Sergei mumbling about the lack of music in the bar.

"Say there, Bub, what kinda music you say you wanna hear? Sounds like y'all said coke crap, am I right?"

[WA Building Mgmt]

Connopolis still maintains a presence here. In fact one of their proposals was just passed recently, but the Sovreignry Astronomical Society has reported in their most recent reports that they cannot locate any of the known Dizyntk planets in their telescopes. I added the black hole part.

I hadn't known that it ripped away part of a universe when I tossed that weird box I found deep under the WA building through their portal.

"Dear ... gods ..."

Neville gazed in awe at the reflection. "I look ... younger. And even handsomer." He tried out several expressions, pouting just a little, raising one eyebrow. But as he perched fetchingly on one arm of the chair in order to get a better view of his left profile, a muscle twinged a sharp reminder of the morning's exertions unloading stock, and a dreadful thought struck the BarLord.

"Uh ... my job's a bit, you know, physical. Is there any way I can, sorta, keep it like that?"

Franz, recognising the signs of Post Successful Hairdo Syndrome. leapt into action. He loaded Neville with technologically advanced CADD-created combs that actually combed, plus discreet black matte bottles and tubes with the salon's red logo. Together, he promised, these would perform prodigies of conditioning, moisturising, style retention, gloss, vitamins, de-frizz, unsplit ends, thickener, natural waves and, in general, hair that would make Galactic Emperors of whatever gender cast aside their thrones for just one second of his attention.

"It's ... magic," Neville breathed, handing over his credit card with uncharacteristic calm. He strutted back into the Bar, accompanied, he was sure, by a swelling symphony, and caught the eye of a harried Violet.

"Wwweeellllllll," she said. "Well, well, well."

"Damn. I want to get a haircut now. I'll go see how they're business is, and maybe it won't be too crowded."

The Master quickly trotted over to the door. Unfortunately, he bumped his head rather hard and stumbled all the way to the door in the back, which he opened. A screaming could be heard, and then the Master sprinted to Neville.

"RUN!!!!!!! AND TURN OFF THE NEUTRALIZERS!"

"We can't," said the leader of the WABM Maintenance of Order Department Squad (Bomb Disposal Division) who was still in the bar after the recent bomb scare. "They don't have an "OFF" switch, they're hard-wired into the building's electrical grid, and they have a battery backup."

[Hittanryan]

"Say there, Bub, what kinda music you say you wanna hear? Sounds like y'all said coke crap, am I right?"

"He didn't say," Friedman replied as he dumped a large pile of change into the jukebox, "but I'm afraid someone's already selected the music we'll be hearing for the next few...hours or so." If he had to endure country music, Friedman couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

[Xeraph]

"Say there, Bub, what kinda music you say you wanna hear? Sounds like y'all said coke crap, am I right?"

"He didn't say," Friedman replied as he dumped a large pile of change into the jukebox, "but I'm afraid someone's already selected the music we'll be hearing for the next few...hours or so." If he had to endure country music, Friedman couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

Dingus turned to the man who spoke to him and said, with a mouthful of meat pie, "Y'know there, Bub, I be likin' music...both kinds. Country and western." As the first notes of 'Coal Miner's Daughter' rang out across the bar, Dingus slapped his knee and shouted, "Yep! Dat's what I'm talkin' about, right dere. Yessiree Bob, that there's a real toe tapper."

He didn't notice the fork flying through the air directly in line with his head...........

[Alqania]

"What look? I just thought our dear BarLord looked better all of a sudden, a bit unrealistically better from just getting a haircut. But I guess with him there might be magic involved. Oh, really, you could have fooled me, but what is your first language then?"

"Tchersvi. It's my nation's native language. It is very different than english. It is made of a series of varying musical notes. It is extroadinarily dificult for foreigners to learn. What is your native language?"

"It sure sounds extraordinary. English is my first language, though Alqanian English is not always exactly like English spoken in other countries, but it's not much different either - not very extraordinary at all, I'm afraid. I also speak Latin and French, but nothing as exotic as Tchersvi. So, did you just arrive here at WA headquarters? I hope the Building Management hasn't been giving you problems."

[The Tomb Keepers]

"Tchersvi. It's my nation's native language. It is very different than english. It is made of a series of varying musical notes. It is extroadinarily dificult for foreigners to learn. What is your native language?"

"It sure sounds extraordinary. English is my first language, though Alqanian English is not always exactly like English spoken in other countries, but it's not much different either - not very extraordinary at all, I'm afraid. I also speak Latin and French, but nothing as exotic as Tchersvi. So, did you just arrive here at WA headquarters? I hope the Building Management hasn't been giving you problems."

"Yes, I did just arrive. I have not dealt with the Building Management yet. Are they known for causing problems?"

[Sovreignry]

"It sure sounds extraordinary. English is my first language, though Alqanian English is not always exactly like English spoken in other countries, but it's not much different either - not very extraordinary at all, I'm afraid. I also speak Latin and French, but nothing as exotic as Tchersvi. So, did you just arrive here at WA headquarters? I hope the Building Management hasn't been giving you problems."

"Yes, I did just arrive. I have not dealt with the Building Management yet. Are they known for causing problems?"

"Yes they are incessant problem causers. No matter how many times I ask, my office is still the farthest from the elevator!"

[Astro-Malsitari WA Seat]

"Yes, I did just arrive. I have not dealt with the Building Management yet. Are they known for causing problems?"

"Yes they are incessant problem causers. No matter how many times I ask, my office is still the farthest from the elevator!"

"I bet yours isn't on the 307th floor. Most people don't even know we have a 307th floor."

[Sovreignry]

"Yes they are incessant problem causers. No matter how many times I ask, my office is still the farthest from the elevator!"

"I bet yours isn't on the 307th floor. Most people don't even know we have a 307th floor."

"Are you close to the elevator at least?"

[Astro-Malsitari WA Seat]

"I bet yours isn't on the 307th floor. Most people don't even know we have a 307th floor."

"Are you close to the elevator at least?"

"The elevator doesn't go to the 307th floor."

[Sovreignry]

"Are you close to the elevator at least?"

"The elevator doesn't go to the 307th floor."

"Then how did you get down here?"

[Astro-Malsitari WA Seat]

"The elevator doesn't go to the 307th floor."

"Then how did you get down here?"

"I usually take the stairs. Today, however, I rappelled down through a ventilation shaft."

[The Tomb Keepers]

"Then how did you get down here?"

"I usually take the stairs. Today, however, I rappelled down through a ventilation shaft."

"...What madhouse have I gotten myself into?"

[Astro-Malsitari WA Seat]

"I usually take the stairs. Today, however, I rappelled down through a ventilation shaft."

"...What madhouse have I gotten myself into?"

"The World Assembly. There's a reason that GAR#8 refers to us as 'inmates' and this building as an 'asylum'."