Gala in the Tropics (Please Sign Up First)

by **New Edom** » Mon Apr 29, 2019 3:24 pm

Welcome to a Gala Event

On behalf of Their Imperial Majesties
The King-Emperor, Elijah IV, and the Queen-Empress, Mara I,
You are invited to attend a Gala at the The Queen Adah Hotel in Cabazon Beach, Union of South Ceti, a Protectorate of the Holy Empire of New Edom. Symbolic of the greatness of the Holy Empire, which traverses the Region of Cornellia and contributes greatly to the peaceful trade, good order and amity of the Region, this will be the first of a series of events celebrating the official designation of the nation as the Holy Empire. Each state within the Empire will be honoured as a jewel in the Imperial Crown.

This event will include an excellent repast, dancing, and entertainments suitable for the honouring of achievement. Special honours will be presented to the men who made the Union of South Ceti’s entry into the Empire possible: Dr. Benjamin Scroll, diplomat, Major-General Abishai Hagar, commander of land forces, Rear-Admiral Daniel Esaraddon, naval forces, and Mr. Lev Tolstoy, head of government.

Guests to the Celebration

Delegates, celebrities and attendees staying in either The Queen Adah Hotel accommodation or elsewhere are provided with breakfast menus or room service, or are not disturbed as required. A VIP plane helicopter route is delineated by the Coastal Defense missile defense system as passable to foreign aircraft which are validated as friendly and official to land at the venues.

Security on the hotel itself as well as in surrounding blocks of the city was visible and discreet both. Visible in the form of roadblocks, checkpoints and street patrols by armed soldiers of the 2nd Marine Infantry Regiment in body armour with assault rifles, sub-machineguns and sniper rifles. Discreext in the form of observation drones such as the S-100 and plain clothes members of the Council Police.

Cabazon Beach is a small city of 75,000 people, and is in a tropical pleasant climate on the coast of the Union of South Ceti. It features an urban rail system, large well made roads, and a friendly largely ethnic community of Arcologians, Aboriginals and colonial Cetians. Persons of quality wear casual formal clothing except at the beach. There are two beaches at Cabazon Beach available to guests staying at the resort, which include a beach requiring swimming costumes and another which is clothing optional.

There are many pleasant things to do at Cabazon Beach. Marine past times such as snorkeling, scuba diving, swimming, yachting and fishing are available. A tour of the Bara-Ceti Wildlife Sanctuary features such exotic animals as toucans, quetzals, hoatzins, parrots, tree anteaters, sloths, monkeys, tapirs, jaguars, river otters, caimans, turtles, maras, and capybaras, a small native strain which is wild and not domesticated. Local cafes and nightclubs feature dancing, musical recitals, and for the sports enthusiasts there are football matches, a race track, and a sports club attached to the resort. A haven for piracy and revolution? No more.

The Arrival at the Gala

The event was held at the Queen Adah Hotel and the theme was water. A curious and delightful feature of this setting included the Artificial Lily Pads designed by a Roman engineer and architectural firm for the purposes of the hotel’s impressive grandeur. The event was largely to be held outside but one could also go in to experience dancing and particular events to be held. The itinerary included a buffet, a musical recital, dancing, and a ceremony to honour the guests of honour. (General Hagar, Mr. Tolstoy, Dr. Scroll, Admiral Esarhaddon)

As guests began to arrive, their cars were brought to the grand entrance of the resort, and valets would take the cars away. Ceremonially dressed Royal Cavalry Guards in white uniforms with silvered breastplates and helmets, shining riding boots, halberds and long silky horsehair plumes were presenting arms to VIPs (that is to say, heads of state, royalty, and government leaders) and they were greeted by the Grand Chamberlain, Count Evol Merodach, and by Countess Ramona Sharra, the Grand Matron of Honour. The Grand Chamberlain was a man in his early 30s, with slightly curly dark brown hair, a light olive skin, wearing a black uniform with silver leaves decorating the breast, while Countess Sharra was an attractive middle aged woman wearing a blue ball gown.

Beyond them, several Edomite officials and courtiers would be found, already mingling at a buffet. This included such dainties as: Cocktail Tramezzini, filled with smoked salmon tartar; Croutes double decker topped with herb-cheese-cream (home made) & cranberries; Chaco Roast beef served with hibiscus-chilly Ambrosia style; taquitos filled with grilled sweet potatoes and fresh lime; grated Yucca fried into crispy patties with a spicy cilantro dip; exquisitely carved fresh vegetable and fruit flowers; grape leaves stuffed with mint, chopped tomato and fresh grilled Capybara and many other delicacies. The buffet tables and drink servers were young naked servers with exquisitely clean bodies in good shape who were painted with floral designs of leaves, blossoms and fruit.

by **Novitera** » Mon Apr 29, 2019 10:01 pm

Noviterans

“Daddy, wow. It’s all so fancy. I don’t know…” Giselle said grasping her father’s arm as they entered. The daughter of Daniel Folais was a slender woman in her mid-twenties, well proportioned with dark blonde hair that fell right above her shoulders and hazel eyes. By all standards her heart shaped face was beautiful and to add to her appeal was her very noticeable bosom even though her dress only showed the slightest hint of cleavage. Obviously she took care of herself, staying fit through aerobic kickboxing classes and a recreational volleyball team. For the event she had chosen a strapped lavender cocktail dress. It revealed all of her toned arms while the skirt did not hug her body but hung loosely coming to a stop above her knees.

Folais put his hand over hers. “This is part of my job dear. You said you wanted to get closer, maybe follow in my footsteps, this is the job. The good part. Enjoy it darling.”

Giselle had grown up with her mother who had split from Folais soon after she was born. She did not know her father so well but was fond of him. Folais had taken good care of them both and put Giselle through school. The money from her father along with her mother’s job as a chef at a high end restaurant put them solidly in the upper middle class growing up. But in college and after Giselle was very much in the middle and found company in those circles.

Since college she had been working and living with her boyfriend in Heselory. Recently, Giselle had gone through a bad breakup. Folais in his impulsive fondness for her had offered to let her stay with him and get a fresh start. She had only two weeks left at her job and was thinking about attending graduate school at the University of Fineberg when she moved there. Folais wanted to introduce her to the right people to pave the way for her career whether she would follow him or not.

The Douglas’s were an interesting trio to watch. Eric Douglas as usual scowled and looked as if he was watching his car get broken into by hoodlums. A stark difference to the bubbly aura of his matronly wife and laid back confidence of his granddaughter. “Oh, what a wonderful party dear! I’m so glad part of work is just going to parties with your peers. Daniel is here too! I liked him when he was over for dinner.” Said his wife Kendall, a gracefully aged woman.

“Folais can eat a lightbulb. Weaselly little shit. By work you mean hanging around a bunch of cocksuckers I can’t stand. Yeah, just fucking splendid.” He retorted with a snort.

“Grandpa, could lighten up for just five minutes? This is why you’re having problems with your heart. We’re all worried about you, you know.” Said Madison, his gorgeous granddaughter.

Douglas snorted again. “Flattering but I know you all can’t wait until I croak.”

“Don’t say that grandpa! That’s not true!” She protested.

Kendall had insisted they pull Madison away from her busy residency just for a bit to go on a nice trip. Douglas had reluctantly allowed it. Madison was in a difficult profession and kept herself busy which he respected.

“As far as my children and grandchildren go, I find her among the least trifling. Fine, we’ll take her. I’d rather have her check over me than some imbecile anyways.” He had said. Secretly, Madison was the grandchild he respected and liked the most.

“Wonderful honey! Madison has been working so hard and we’re all so proud of her. She wants to be a cardiologist because of you, you know. I’m sure she’ll really appreciate this.” Kendall replied. When Douglas just rolled his eyes she added, “Who knows? Maybe she’ll find a nice foreign boy there. A Chacano or Edomite...”

Douglas snapped his head at Kendall and looked at his wife with utter scorn. “I’ll use my position to burn every bridge Novitera has with those two countries before I let my granddaughter date some greasy Chacano or Edomite prick. Mark my words you foolish woman.” He said to her icily.

Kendall had smiled and nuzzled her husband. “You care so much for our family. One of many reasons why I love you Eric.”

Madison herself wore what at least in Novitera would be considered conservative. Her neckline was at her collar bone and covered not large but well shaped breasts as the maroon cocktail dress hugged her magnificent form. The end of the skirt halted above the knees and flared out to show toned calves. Unlike her grandparents, Madison was noticeably of mixed race for Douglas’s second son having married someone with Asian features. This gave her straight brown hair that ran past her shoulders as well as wide and slanted brown eyes. Although her beautiful face at rest had a serious demeanor, it was as if she could turn night into day by cracking a smile.

Kendall flanked Douglas on the right holding the crook of his elbow while Madison was at his left holding on to his other arm too.

“Listen Grandpa, I have your medicine here in my purse and set a timer on my phone ok. I also have some of those granola bars you like…” Madison was beginning to say before Douglas cut her off.

“I know, I know. Don’t get your stinky panties all tangled…”

“Eric!” Kendall exclaimed abruptly then slapped his upper arm. “Not to the grandchildren Eric. We talked about this.” She then looked to Madison. “Madison honey, he didn’t mean it.”

“I know Grandpa Eric loves me.” Madison said with an impudent smile and hugged Douglas’s arm who growled in response.

by **Lillorainen** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 6:25 am

Queen Adah Hotel, Cabazon Beach, Union of South Ceti.
It was exciting for him, although he wasn't going to admit it - President Silas Flemming was on a trip abroad again. And not a trip of the sort of testing foreign drinks or shenanigans like that - it was a Gala, attended by many important sovereigns of many powerful countries, in the tropical paradise of South Ceti.
He was 45 years old, had short brown haires and brown eyes, and had been President since 2002 - for a few crises, which he had taken like a gentleman, despite or because of (that was yet to debate on) the younger history of the country he ruled. As usual, it had taken some time so settle everything for the time of his stay abroad, for the country would, of course, not run itself in the time being. Whereas the Presidential Office was in good hands, namely, in those of its Head, Janine Reusrath, there were numerous other Ladies and Gentlemen who needed some more detailed instructions as to what to do during his absence.
Especially since he wasn't going on his own.
Emmerich Marscheid, only four years older than Flemming, had a long experience as a Minister of Commerce - despite not having been introduced into office before 2012. Before that, he had done the same in the State of the Rathland, that for over ten years. In the same time span, Friedhelm Marquardt, 54 years old, had been Minister of Foreign Affairs.
For the sake of the representation of both chambers of the Federation's parliament, two charming ladies, who had been elected as speakers of their respective chambers, had decided to come with the President and the ministers - Annika Seelscheid, for the Meritocratic Council, and Brunhilde Lövenich for the Chamber of States; the former being 42 years old, looking like 22, brunette and green-eyed, the latter being 34, black-haired and brown-eyed.
For all advisory issues, to Members of the Joint Advisory Panel, accompanied the other important state guests - Holger Jörn Lindholm, a younger Member of the Meritocratic Council who had just seen 31 Summers, and Sylvia Kolverath, with even just 29 years being amongst the youngest MMCs and, despite having joined just recently, already been taken into the boat. They were the living evidence, that age wasn't necessarily the most important factor in order to get a high position. Having the right ideas in order to bring the country on could help, too, and both had plenty of them.
The designated ambassador was the blonde and blue-eyed man called Ole Klingebiel, also one of the young and wild generation, as Marscheid put it - with 33 years of age, he had served as a Lillorainian Ambassador to the Kingdom of Ahjada until its dissolution a few months ago, now rather being a traveling ambassador seeking a new destination.
Being eight people with essential positions in the Federation, they had been brought to South Ceti, a New Edomite protectorate, by Bruno Rehweiler, the experienced pilot of the Nation Hopper, all the way from the Marieholm Air Base over the VIP plane helicopter route prepared for foreign aircraft - friendly one, that is. Less friendly one was most certain to be detected and dealt with by a system of missiles.
But it had gone well, of course.
Now, as they all had arrived safely in the Queen Adah Hotel, which was designated as the location for the event, they greeted the Grand Chamberlain and Countess Ramona Sharra, lightly bowing their heads and stating, that it was a pleasure to meet them.
instantly noticed the decoration of water and artificial lily pads. They didn't have much time to admire this, as the next little detail they noticed was, that the food and drink servers were all ... naked. And painted with numerous floral designs.
Well, an unusual view, but something one could get used to.
The food at the buffet was surely unusual, too, but judging by first glance, it looked quite delicious. Lövenich, Kolverath, and Seelscheid, the three women amongst them, raised their eyebrows, seeing what the buffet had to offer - and with their small grin, one could see, how they spontaneously threw their diet plans over.
Lindholm grinned, too - in his opinion, none of the three needed a diet, anyway.

by **Orestea** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 6:58 am

20,000 Feet, New Edom Airspace
First Class Lavatory

Aureliano Coccaro sighed and threw water into his face, rubbing his eyes while staring at the mirror. His blood sugar was fine, he just felt awful, is all. Nauseous, the pit of dread taking up his stomach. He knew going so long without a proper meal wasn't healthy, but having been in no mood to eat the past twenty-four hours, his forced snacks would just have to do. Besides, there was food at the event, he told himself again, good food, food you'll want to eat, rich people food. Except, telling himself about all those little sandwiches they serve with cocktails didn't make him feel any better. It just made him never want to eat again. Long after he put away his diabetic kit, he groans once more and splashes on even more water.

Everything about the trip was a mess, and he was part of it from the beginning, back when the President was ecstatic to have even considered for invitation. Then the videos of tanks and missiles opening up on protestors got out - after that, nobody cared how the situation developed, and the headlines about the President attending the gala were quietly swapped for an online feed of the crisis. Aureliano watched, helplessly, as the guest list quickly transformed and shrunk, all the way up until today. "And I'm still on it, of course," he said to himself with a sigh, just before the lavatory door shook with a quick rap.

"Are you doing alright in there, Coccaro? Some of us actually need to use the loo, you know."

Christ. "Yes, Mr. Secretary. I'm right out, sir." He slipped his blood tester back into his belt-pouch and disposed of the test strip, and stepped out into the aisle. The Secretary of the Orestean Parliament was waiting for him, the diabetic aide needing to squeeze by to move further towards the seats. They only exchanged a smile, but it was clear that Mr. Sharmaake was annoyed at having to wait for Aureliano to gather his thoughts. As his personal aide, Aureliano knew to keep it simple, and just hurried back to his row.

Sliding into the first-class window seat, he heard Senofonte ask him, "Is the, eh, big bad wolf giving you the hard time, ha?" As far as annoying old guys went, Senofonte was leading the pack, the English he never bothered to improve always sounding like a playfully aimed knife. Aureliano just assumed that the spry national football league president had fun testing the aide's professional politeness - he was happy that this time 'wolf' was the chosen moniker and not something offensive to the kindergartner a row behind them.

"He's perfectly fine, Mr. D'Alessandro. How's Khadija? She's the one who has to sit with him, and I don't think she's taken off her headphones once this whole flight."

"Oh, you know her. Tennis. I think they have the mutual assurance of destruction over there. She wants to read about this, eh, racecar thing, and the animals, and if he interrupt her she may get careless with the wine like last flight. Ahehehah..."

Coccaro stared across the aisle. Even though they were in first class, this leg was still a domestic flight, and the national tennis champion of their entourage was dressed for relaxation. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone fly in the front quarter of a plane in their pyjamas before, but her confidence wore them like the suits everyone else was suffocating in. Quietly shifting back to look out the window, the aide didn't even bother waiting for his boss to come back to their row, only crossing his arms and trying to enjoy the look of the New Edom countryside before they landed.

"Christ, it's just like Mezzogiorno."

Keeping his arms tightly crossed, Aureliano stared uncomfortably out of the black SUV's window. A Marine was conversing with what looked like an officer in his group as he held the Orestean papers and invitation documents in his hand. All around them were uniformed soldiers clutching rifles, some looking disinterested in their work and others taking the task disturbingly seriously. He heard himself slip out, "We have soldiers at the government buildings but not ten blocks from fancy parties."

"That's because we don't have anything else for our men and women to do, boy," replied Secretary Sharmaake. He drew in a sharp, tight breath through his nostrils and then continued on, gesturing and brushing his huge shoulder up against his personal aide. "You know this country, they have bigger things to worry about than we do. Not everyone gets to have their hands held by colonizers and then sit on the beach and play sports all day, you know. I mean, we could have guns in the trunk, I could be carrying a bomb in my --"

"Mr. Secretary, sir, I respectfully suggest we refrain from joking about such matters while under armed scrutiny." Aureliano's exasperated face elicited a laugh from his boss, but at least he could feel Khadija's eyes rolling in the front passenger seats. "Lighten up, boy," Sharmaake replied, all smiles, "you're too serious! You've been this way since we left for SIA! Come now, they have bigger things to worry about than us being a threat. Isn't that why we're here?"

"Yes, sir," said Coccaro, "that is why we are here. Christ." He stared out the window again. The Edom marine walked back and exchanged words with the driver that Aureliano couldn't understand, and everyone got their papers. Only a few blocks until they would officially be driving up on the gala area, and Coccaro just wanted a cocktail.

by **The Selkie** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 7:12 am

Fiona Bláth of the Tribe of Wexford.
Well, let me be honest here: I was way out of my league.
Maybe I should introduce myself, first: Cadet Fiona Bláth of the Tribe of Wexford, of the Naval School and Captain Sensha-Do Team. I was of nineteen Springs, from Scilly, what people usually call a military brat as my father was the commanding officer of Naval Station Tipa and on my best way to become an officer of the SDF-Navy myself. Of Mona's Boys, the Regiment of SDF-Navy Troopers, preferably with one of their armoured units.
I was 1.71 metres tall, long and silver hair, which fell down my back in long locks, which stopped a bit above my bottom, red eyes and a relatively pale complexion. I wasn't exactly a porcelain doll by my skin's colour, but there were darker skins around in the Free Lands. Long strands of hair framed my face despite a hairband keeping them a bit in check.
I was well-trained, blessed with a bust, which was called medium by Selkie-standards (others called it big, but to be honest, I didn't care much, you little perverts) and of a rather slender and nimble built otherwise. My hips certainly didn't fall into the category of 'prolific'.
In any case, as a student of the Naval School, I was of course in their uniform, the Cadet Dress, usually categorized as of the Culaith mHairnéalaigh-Style, the iconic sailor suits, ours in the button-down variant. Ours was black, short sleeved, with white highlights and a black sailor-style collar, the Coat of Arms of the SDF-Navy on the left breast. We didn't wear neckerchiefs. The uniform was finished by a black, pleated skirt going to the knees, held by a belt, and thigh highs. Shoes were half-shoes. On my belt, I wore the insignia, that I was actively studying to become an officer, a short, ceremonial axe, 25 centimetres in length, a reminder of the origins of the Navy in the Water Polices of the many cities and towns.
My arm was linked to an actual officer, in full mess dress uniform of the SDF-Navy, including the cloat, black gloves and sabre. Captain Liam Fearg of the Tribe of Cavan was the Captain of the Frigate SDFS Carman Fea, a brown-haired man in his mid-forties, a mischievous and wily man, experienced in combat. He was also way taller then me and, in his mischievous ways, quite hot and a fun person to be around... and an old friend of my Dad.
We weren't the only Selkie, who had made their way to The Queen Adah Hotel in Cabazon Beach, in Union of South Ceti, which in turn was a Protectorate of the Holy Empire of New Edom. A total of eight were here, which could easily be separated into couples: Captain Fearg and me, another pair of the SDF-Navy, Ambassador Groups 5 and 6.
An Ambassador Group was a weird formation: A professional diplomat, who represented the government, the Free Lands, and a celebrity, who represented the Selkie, the people. The latter was mostly limited to cultural representation, dancing with people, talking with people and maybe organizing student exchanges or something like that - the former was the diplomat.
Ambassador Group 5 was composed of an old veteran and new meat loosing what the leader of our delegation had defined as her "State Visit Cherry". The old veteran was Finn Iarann of the Tribe of Cavan, a blacksmith and with upper arms like tree trunks. He was in his mid-thirties and to be honest, I would not mind these arms carrying me...
Quite a different story was his partner, Felicia Scaipeadh of the Tribe of Monaghan. She was a blonde with a hard, blue eye, a veteran of the SDF-Army Great Woods Rangers, who had lost an eye in 2012 during the Battle of Marley Bay. She was a blonde, her long hair open and straight, her face sharply cut.
The other Ambassador Group consisted of Felicia Sciotóg of the Tribe of Monaghan, our Head of the Foreign Office, and the sworddancer Ava Coileán of the Tribe of Westmeath. Both were beautiful women in their own right, but while Miss Sciotog was a cold woman with the grace of a feline predator, her steps measured, her eyes filled with fire and passion, that was true, but it was more of an ice-fire then a hearthfire - countering that was the sportswoman Ava, a hearty and passionate woman, hard as steel, but with a soft core, which could only be exposed through honest, sportive contest.
The other pair of the SDF-Navy was my good friend Kayla Urchair of the Tribe of Sligo, we usually called her Kay, was crushing so hard on the man she had linked arms with, that it was surprising, that this man's vessel had not long since sunk. He was Captain Galen Trodaí of the Tribe of Westmeath, of SDFS Maighdean, a man with melancholic, deep eyes and a sharply cut face. Kay, meanwhile, had long, violet hair in long, long locks, which fell down her back freely, framed her face, purple eyes looking at the world with maturity, motherly instinct and teasing... let her behind the wheel of a tank, though, and she is a bloodthirsty hound on a leash.
All four civilians were, of course, dressed in civilian clothes, Ava and Miss Sciotog in Geansai in their respective Tribe's Colours, while Finn and Miss Scaipeadh preferred Foreign Clothes. For Finn, that meant suit, tie and all the bells and whistles accompanying it for an event such as this Gala, while Miss Scaipeadh wore a red evening dress, going down to the ground, but with side-slits for easier movement (considering, that she loved dancing, I had a good idea as to why she had wanted that), and without shoulders - it also gave a generous view of the cleavage. Long, black gloves completed the outfit. Her eyepatch was simple.
The theme for the night, I noticed with a small smile, was water - lucky us. Old Myths said, that Selkie came from the Sea, a place known as Lochlann and I was training to be a naval officer.
The night was warm, these were the tropics after all (and real tropics, not a marketing gag like the Archipelago's tropics), the hotel quite grand. I found a Selkie-Inn more homely, that was true, but this was... no Selkie-Inn could compare in the grandeur-department, that was true, too.
Although the event was mostly held outside, I was quite sure, that we would see more of the inside, too. A buffet was spotted quickly, as well as waiters, who were... on the other side of dressed. And they could certainly wear their body paint, that was quite certain...
We had been briefed on the New Edomite relation to nudity and Selkie certainly were no prudes, when it came to nudity and, by extension, sexuality. Still, there were bound to be people, who would be better off clothing themselves into the thickest cloths they could find.
The waiters in this place, though... let's just say, that I already knew, where my eyes would stray, if I was bored...
In any case, we arrived by car, valets taking them away, and we were greeted by the Royal Household Cavalry in their uniforms, which was from times, when the Marcach were still mercenaries in the services of all, who could pay. I might have to look into the history books, if Marcach had ever fought for Edom or New Edom... but that was for later to look.
After we passed Grand Chamberlain Count Evol Merodach and by Countess Ramona Sharra, both very nice people and quite good looking, we were let loose at the actual festivities. We were, as expected, not the first people present.
Edomite courtiers were mingling, plus a number of people, which I did not recognize. And one, who I recognized immediately: Mid-forties, brown hair and eyes, a gentleman from the land of beer and goods washed ashore - President Silas Flemming, of Lillorainen.
The President of a country, which the Free Lands were good friends with, despite the shared history, which, quite often, involved blood getting spilled and goods being washed ashore. Nowadays, we were partners in the Strategic and Economic Alliance, good trade partners and people from both countries visited the other and had fun.
I saw in Sciotog's eyes, that she would go to him sooner rather then later, to greet him and his delegation, maybe even for a dance or two.
The buffet with its delicious and exotic looking treats was quickly put out of my mind...
Someone tapped my shoulder, I looked to my 'date', Captain Fearg smiling. "Cadet, would you please pay attention?", he asked with a smile, which made it an order.
"Yes, Sir, of course.", I said with a light blush.
Sciotog smiled. Although she was not a military officer, she was the closest thing to a Minister of Foreign Affairs, which we had and thus, she was the leader here. "Alright, people, mingle. Be available for talking, later for dancing, but keep the drinks in check. I don't want drunken debauchery." Funnily enough, she looked at Finn with the last part, who showed a small smile, and neither at Kay or me. That came a moment later. "Girls... if you have any problems, come to Ava, Finn, Felicia or me. If a guy gets a bit too touchy, knee to the nuts, retreat to Finn, okay?" We nodded. She let a beat pass. "Also, the waiters look delicious, yes, but the treats are on the buffet table, not refilling it!", she added, which made blush lightly, while Kay giggled.
This was going to be a nice evening.

by **Rezmaeristan** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 9:48 am

Two jets and their escort planes flew into the airport at Cabazon Beach. Several royal guards emerged and laid out a red carpet, flanking it to form an honor guard. They stood at attention as Shah Iftag X and his family descended the steps, the men wearing tunics and turbans, the women wearing headscarves(with their faces mostly uncovered) and colorful traditional dresses. This wasn't Iftag's first time abroad- he was an old man and had been shah for 40 years after unexpectedly being elected to the position at only 20(he wasn't Rezmaeristan's youngest shah; that was Bolin I, the Boy King, who was elected at only 16) Neither was it for Shahzid Nadishk or Crown Prince Iftag; at 59 and 40, respectively, they were also quite well travelled.

However, his youngest son, Prince Ilam, was excited. He loved all the attention, and despite being 35 he wasn't that well-traveled. But most importantly, he was excited to meet foreign leaders. So was Azr'vin; she was only 29 and was eager for some excitement.

The royal family got into a limousine, and six royal guards on motorcycles surrounded it. There were other cars, such as that of Grand Vizier Dishram Telnikad; and that of Chairperson Enk'tya Nekush of the Rezmaeristan Workers' Syndicalist Front, surrounded by SPB(Syndicate Protection Bureau) motorcycles. All three of Rezmaeristan's leaders were represented; Iftag representing the Crown, Telnikad representing the State, and Nekush representing the Party; thus, the three main organs of power. They arrived at the hotel and were greeted by the Grand Chamberlain and Maid of Honor. The royal children, particularly Ilam and Azr'vin, were intrigued by the design of the artificial lily pads. Iftag Jr, noticing his brother's face having an odd expression, said "Stop staring at the servers."

"But I was just intrigued by the body paint designs. Really goes with the water theme here-"

"Knock it off", said Iftag. "We both know why you're really staring at them." Whispering in his ear, he said, "Between you and me, I kinda like it too. My wife won't appreciate it though, and neither will yours... let's tell them ASAP so that they don't get too shocked."

Azr'vin laughed. "No big deal my brothers. I'm staring at some of the men here as much as you are the women. Not bringing our spouses here was kind of a mistake. But Iftag, maybe we should see if there's any girls Kumar might like to marry." (Kumar was Iftag Jr.'s second son; he was 14 and thus was of age for betrothal)

"We should've brought him along", replied Iftag Jr.

They walked into the dining room; the royals and politicians went to go sit with their respective groups. Telnikad and Nekush knew they'd certainly be of interest, as most of the other leaders were democratically elected(Telnikad was, but his elections were rigged), and they were from a syndicalist dictatorship. They were also Easterners, and so their clothing would also stand out. Nekush, looking 10 years younger than she was, wondered if she would attract attention for her looks. "If any guy tries anything, we call the SPB and have him sent to a re-culturing facility."

"Madame Chairperson, that's a bit excessive, not to mention maybe risking war. This is a celebration, let's keep it lighthearted. You're probably just hungry- I know I am!", said Telnikad as they went towards the buffet.

by **Kaziimar** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 10:54 am

Admiral Bannon-West had debated on whether to wear her Navy uniform or gown for the first meeting before finally choosing the uniform as she felt a little bit more comfortable in it. In brilliant azure and golden orange with polished brass buttons, the colors were chosen to reflect the Empire’s national animal: the kingfisher. She had her dark brown hair pulled back in a long braid tied with a festive ribbon instead of the high bun she usually wore it in, leaving some pieces to curl around her heart shaped, coffee-colored face.

“Harper, what do you think of my outfit?” The Young Imperial prince had taken some time to get himself ready as well, having brought over some outfits to choose from of course. He’d tied his thick brown locs back into a low ponytail and was wearing an elegant cream colored suit with a semi-formal peach tie. He was about the same height as her, give or take a few inches shorter. “I think you look good, Your Highness.”
“Thanks! You look really good too...I must’ve practiced my opening a thousand times to impress the Edomites, I hope Father is proud of me.”
“I’m sure he will be, just keep your cool and be charming.”
Corvus, their Ambassador was following slightly behind...his elegant suit was a plain, soft charcoal with light grey pinstripes except for the silver embroidery on the cuffs...his cuff-links and tie-pin were shaped like crows, the symbol of his house. “Harper...what on Earth?” He whispered to the young officer in Zimarian. The older man adjusted his glasses to make sure they were straight, and there were already a number of people that had arrived...the palace was a beautiful place and the food looked delicious, but the painted and nude servants must’ve been a bit of a shock to him.
“Corvus, when in Rome we do as the Romans do...yes? Anyway, think of it like Ancient Egypt in a way, the servant girls were also dressed like that. Or, not dressed as it were.”
“I believe I taught you that, I was your history teacher..”
“Then you shouldn’t be surprised, now come on. We have to make our best impression.”

by **Novitera** » Tue Apr 30, 2019 12:40 pm

Noviterans

The next Noviterans to arrive were Wade Setsuko and his girlfriend Millie. On the way there he had already set the timers on his phone to keep the buzz going while being to last all night. The vial of cocaine was ready in his jacket pocket and another eight ball was with one of the aides so he could be generous with friends. More is merrier, as they say. He knew he would have to take it slow. Two stiff drinks in the next half hour with two glasses of water then a line after. Millie was hanging on his arm, laughing and giggling as she said naughty things in his ear. The woman was certainly a beauty being in a hit pop group back home. Millie had wavy brown hair with highlights and legs that seemed to go on forever that complemented her dancer's body. Her dress did not have her ass hanging out but was certainly a short one and the neckline low.

Setsuko figured that their relationship was a sham and would disintegrate within a month or two. Not in an unpleasant sort of way. Most likely they would just stop contacting each other. His appeal was the sort of high brow affairs like this she could bring her to. Yes, she had money and fame and could run in any high circle back home. But this was a different sort of thing entirely and Millie wanted the novelty. Her appeal to Setsuko was far simpler. In either case, she did find him fun and delighted in the way he lusted for her. On the way over Millie had gleefully let Setsuko do a line of cocaine off her breast.

Parker Gladwin walked by himself, ever the lone wolf and operator as he saw himself. This morning he had spent a full twenty minutes admiring himself in the mirror. Not his appearance, for Gladwin was not an impressive specimen by any means and he knew that. It was his own perceived slyness that he praised himself.

"You're a snake in the tall grass. A shadow." He had actually said out loud.

As soon as Gladwin entered he would walk around the venue pretending to admire the decor and views. But really he would be scouting for a place where he could achieve the greatest triumph possible. Already he had pleasured himself right before arriving. Spilling his seed all over his hand then wiping it off but not washing for when he would shake hands with other dignitaries here to taint them with his filth. The thought almost made him smile but he held it in.

Coming as a group were the admirals in their resplendent dress whites. Vice-Admiral Marcel Nagasada was newly appointed commander of the Western Theater. This would encompass all Noviteran military operations across the Tempesta where he would coordinate out of their base in Chaco. Alongside Nagasada were Rear Admirals Richard Tomlin and Conner Armstrong who led the Fourth and Fifth Fleets respectively. They would be taking turns commanding the naval patrols and helping out the Chacanos with whatever joint operations in Arcologia. They were cheerful looking men who smiled and waved at anyone who would glance their direction. Although they were closing or past age 50, the admirals looked fit for their age.

Finally there were the Noviterans who were there as both goodwill ambassadors and ones who were looking to start conversations about deals. Dean McCaffrey was head of a large private equity fund and was interested in talking about real estate development in Arcologia. Riley Skewes was more of a goodwill ambassador. Invited for his ever growing role in Edomite finance but he was very much ready to talk about financing needs. Finally there was the moderately handsome Captain Royce Rackham of the Hinterlanders who had passed the Chacano Jungle Rangers school and served with them in Ashab as part of an exchange program. He was entirely a goodwill ambassador but happy enough to be here. At least he seemed to have a satisfied look upon his face. Rackham wore a dark khaki army dress uniform with a high collar and a maroon beret of the Hinterlanders.

by **Republica De Gran Chaco** » Wed May 01, 2019 8:20 am

Prime Minister Trujillo’s mouth twitched ever so slightly as he walked into the ball as part of the government representatives sent from Chaco. He hated traveling, the thought of going minutes without a cigarette made his skin crawl. He had a pack ready to go once he sat down at his seat, but his advisors recommended that it was best to walk in to the ball without a cigarette in hand. He hated those advisors, how he wished he could punish them. He had argued to just send the president, but they had insisted that it would be best for him to finally travel outside of Chaco given the recent agreements that had been signed with the Edomites.

He glanced at the president, Diego Mendoza, that happy idiot. He wished he could be cast aside, the fool had far too many scandals waiting. His many affairs and drunken nights, as well as the rumored incident with the howler monkeys in the former foreign minister’s lawn. It was a damn shame that the president was independently elected. Perhaps he would do something here that could justify his removal.

Following Luis and Diego, were the Minister of Foreign Affairs Simon Alvarado, the Minister of Defense Anastasio Samoza Garcia, the Minister of Justice Fiorela Marleni, Major General Julian Tomas Commander of Valcarlos Command, and the Governor of the Valcarlos Territory Salvador Sanchez. Everyone was in formal dress, and happy to be at the event. This made Luis furious internally, these morons, all in their plot to keep him away from his sweet relief. Dear God, how he wanted to smoke!

Luis had been told that they were the first Chacanos to arrive, the others, mostly civilians tied in the Lebrón territory, were scheduled to arrive just after by whatever means. It was all so pointless, they were all staying at the hotel it was hosted at, but image required that they make a grand entrance to the ball.

Luis looked at an aide and whispered, “These patches aren’t working, give me another one.”

“Sir, you have three on already, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The young man answered.

“I’ll decide what the good ideas are or not, just give me one now!” The PM demanded.

“Sir how will you put one on in this crowd?” the man asked.

“Damn it all, I swear, you better have my Luckys ready the second I sit down.” Luis said angrily.

“Yes sir, right here.” The aide replied.

“Good fucking God!” cried Simon Alvarado, the Foreign Minister.

Luis shit his head up wondering what could cause that outburst, but then saw the source. Pedro Bustamante y Oseguera, the railroad magnate who had started the early work in Lebrón had arrived. He led in about a dozen women all over six feet tall, and all with generous proportions. They were the volleyball team that he owned, and dressed as if they were ready to play a game including short tight shorts and knee pads. The team was widely said to be his sick fetish, as they were no good, only winning one game in the last three years, and being coached by his loathsome brother Pedro, who was also in tow.

Luis reached into his aide’s pocket and grabbed out the pack of unfiltered Lucky Strikes and lit one up, “That man is a disgusting ass. What lewd behavior, I will not be speaking with him tonight. Keep that fool and his band of harlots away from me.”

“Yes sir.” Said one of the security guards.

Bryan walked in with his aunt and uncle, who were with Antonio Sebastian Pérez de Lebrón. His uncle had been brought in by Antonio, to help recruit and develop the agriculture in the new territories, and was excited by the prospects. Bryan had not wanted to leave Dongying for a social occasion, but his uncle had insisted telling him, “Bryan, you are in too high of a position, and will not bring embarrassment to our family by being the single divorcee of a poor native peasant. You will be social, and you will meet people.”

Bryan had seen the wisdom in this, though he had hated the idea of having to fly to Valcarlos, but he took some leave, and decided to travel to Chaco and visit his family for several weeks after the ball. Besides, Antonio was an old family friend and it was good to see him strutting like a peacock in his white tux into the room making his introductions.

Jaime looked around to room for familiar faces. Major General Tomas had brought him along at the request of the government in the hopes that he capitalized on some of his friends that he had made at the Queen-Empresses birthday in New Edom. He hoped he would see Camilla. He responses to his letters had been irregular. She was busy and from substance he had to keep reminding himself. Still, he hoped to see her first.

Jaime was also interested to see if Nathan had arrived yet. The Emperor of Ghant, his cousin Lucas, and he had a wild night that he barely remembered. Jaime looked forward to seeing how they were doing, and hoped that they would sneak in another musical number. He doubted it would be allowed, but he still wanted to see them singing again.

by **Orestea** » Wed May 01, 2019 2:55 pm

Artificial Lily Pads

"Ah, Christ. Whatever." Even with those sandwiches and taquitos in him, which were actually quite delicious, Coccaro's third cocktail wasn't diluted in its effectiveness whatsoever. Aureliano walked a slow, steady circuit between the artificial lily-pads and the buffet tables, having divorced himself from the group shortly after the Oresteans were officially welcomed. Khadija, the tennis star, enjoyed herself throughout the property while the men performed some amateur and professional diplomacy for themselves. The tipsy aide didn't see any good coming from the trip ever since the President and all the other actually important positions jumped ship, but so long as his 'charge' was keeping his chubby body occupied with food and handshakes, there would be no problems. Well, actually-

Khadija snaked into view, the latest interruption to his thoughts. "Hello, Aureliano," she said with a smile, "How's our favorite little introvert today?" Her smart suit hugged the center of her body before flowing out at her extremities, though she did the best she could to not upstage the aide's much simpler tweed jacket.

"I'm fine, Ms. Khadija, I'm just, eh... keeping myself busy while the other two have their fun. Trying to keep an eye on Mr. Sharmaake in case I ever need to rescue him from, eh, some weirdo. Rescue him from himself, often the case."

She just smiled more, and Coccaro has to tame the bad taste in his mouth with the cocktail olive. "Come now, hon. You're secluding yourself, doing all this. You can't be having too much fun always running back and forth the complex back in Sunshine. You should talk to some people out here, they're quite interesting. And foreign."

"Christ, Khadija, I know they're foreign, of course they're foreign. You know, those oil barons or whatever are the most normal people I've seen so far?"

"Oil barons?" She gave him a look, even if she still smiled.

"Those Noviterans are the worst. That girl clutching onto that old dude's arm? Grumpy grampa? Did you see that one greaseball come in through the door?"

"Coccaro, stop it." Still smiling.

"He looks like a snake and that prick thinks he's some operator. You're not slick if you look like a snake, you're just a snake! Christ, I even bet Senofonte is gonna try to bang-- gh!!"

The iron grip of someone who has played tennis since infancy nearly snapped his wrist in half. He looked on in sharp, sudden sobriety as the cocktail was physically torn from his grip, before Khadija swallowed the entire thing in one mouthful. She placed the empty vessel on the dry floor of the lily pads, and stood back up, staring Aureliano in the eye; smile gone. The kid had never seen her talk to anyone without a smile, even during the exhaustive press after the latest championship. He didn't even try to reply.

"Aureliano Coccaro," she began before dropping her voice to a whisper, "I know you hate this trip and that you're only here because our healthy Secretary of Parliament didn't jump ship. That's no reason to be pessimistic bogart who just stands around getting drunk and complaining about everyone who isn't you, and everyone who earnestly enjoys being here, pricks or not. Now listen, I'm going to go back and... maybe talk up some of those 'oil barons.' If I see you with another drink in your hands, or if you're back out here shit-talking and giving our crappy little island absolutely no chance on the world stage... I'm going to go back to our hotel room, get my racquet, come back here and bash your head open until all this water runs red.

"Understand?" Her smile returning, Aureliano felt the crush on his arm go away. He stared back at Khadija in awe. He didn't believe she would come back and kill him at the gala with her expensive tennis racquet, but he was almost convinced she'd be fine killing him anywhere else, with anything else. All he could do was muster a nod, which his companion took with an even wider smile and turned back towards the more populated areas of the developing party.

"Christ."

iiWiki · by **Vionna-Frankenlisch** » Wed May 01, 2019 3:02 pm

New Columbian Delegation

The decision for Governor-General Richard Laurenstowe, King James' representative and the duly appointed leader of New Columbia, to attend the gala in South Ceti was a controversial one. His opposition in the Chamber of Councillors had pounced on the opportunity to show Laurenstowe as a selfish, uncaring leader, treating himself to a holiday in paradise while his soldiers and native allies fought against hostile tribes in the Majave Offensive. His allies in the same chamber portrayed the Governor-General as a skilled diplomat and statesman, off to secure New Columbia's place in Cornellia. Accompanying the Governor-General were Arthur Cochrane and Pierre de Camont, both Colonels and serving officers in the Imperial Columbian Army, hoping to secure important contacts in the militaries of Conellia. Along with the two officers was Emilie de Camont, sister of Pierre and the Comtesse de Carmont. The Carmonts, a noble family from Gallandia, had been banished from their native land by King Louis XIV in 2016 as they were a perceived threat to the quickly descending monarch, Emilie had kept her title and vast wealth but moved to New Columbia with her brother and aging father, Guillaume, the Duke of Marmonte. Now she was visiting South Ceti, a protectorate of New Edom as a diplomat of New Columbia and Vionna-Frankenlisch.

The flight had been quick and boring, although it was fraught with worry as the ever-present threat of Thouthen compelled the ICAF to escort the official plane with a trio of interceptors, at least half of the way. Governor-General Laurenstowe had spent the journey brushing up on his knowledge of New Edom and her relationship with Vionna-Frankenlisch. As the leader of the Columbian Federal Party, he accepted Vionna-Frankenlischian dominance over New Columbia but put a focus on advancing his homeland, rather than cooperating meaningfully with Vionna-Frankenlisch or the other states of the Frankenlsischian Commonwealth. Thus, it was a stupefying revelation to him when he read that New Edom and Vionna-Frankenlisch, by virtue of their joint Imperion Coalition membership were, in fact, close allies. Colonels Cochrane and Carmont frittered away the flight arguing about whether the Imperial Columbian Armed Forces should acquire cheaper, more plentiful Vionna-Frankenlischian equipment that would be easier to keep maintained and supplied or to purchase foreign equipment which would cost more and provide less but would, doubtlessly, be more modern and possibly more effective. Countess Carmont had sat in silence, reading Theodorus in Gallandic and drinking white wine.

Vionna-Frankenlischian Delegation

Even with the two colonels, the Vionna-Frankenlischian group was decidedly more militaristic than their New Columbian counterparts. Admirals Haringoth and Davington and Sir Horace Blackthrope, a Major General in the Frankenlisch Defence Force were present. They, too, had been in debate during the flight from Fredericksland. The argument had been dominated by the idea of reform, Davington and Haringoth could be identified as the two most progressive officers in the Imperial Navy, it was their influence that led to the first Amphibious Assault Vessels in the Imperial Navy to not only be commissioned, but actually ordered from abroad. Silverport Dockyards in the Free Lands had provided multiple ships to Vionna-Frankenlisch and was, in fact, the only foreign company in thirty years to be trusted with the construction of Imperial Navy vessels. However, Blackthrope, wizened and only ever walking with the aid of a strong cane, argued that the Imperial Navy's focus on capital ships and gunnery was outdated and doomed to fail. Even Haringoth, who had provided the so-called 'Emperor Project' with his own patronage and paid out of his own pocket to conduct research, argued angrily against Blackthrope.

Richard Spears and Darwin Crawford, the Earls of Darlington and Eglantine respectively, sat as far away from the military officers as possible. Spears, who had never held a military position in his life, was bored to the hilt by the debate, preferring to argue about matters of theology and the economy. Crawford shared his fellow Earl's disinterest but did not share Spears' disdain for the military as a whole. A lifelong student of history, Crawford had read all of the campaigns of Edward II, all of the wars of Alexander II, studied every battle fought by Lord Lynwood and Lord Richmond and written multiple books on the subject of the War of the Vionnan Coalition. He was a professor of Military History at the University of Eglantine and held a reserve commission as a Major General, though he knew it was unlikely that he'd ever serve. In sharp contrast to the ranting admirals, Spears and Crawford sat in quiet conversation about the contrasting merits of Andyism and Christianity, along with the annoying meddling and barbarism of Islam.

It was no secret that Spears and Crawford were not attending the Gala for diplomatic reasons. Both were unmarried and despite all their merits, being handsome, rich, intelligent and titled, had received little attention at court. Mainly due to Crawford's lack of appearance at court and Spears' infamy due to the Mariella Scandal. Although the inquiry found that Spears had not dishonoured himself and that Isobel Mariella was not even his bastard child as the mother insisted, he was the subject of much mistrust among his fellow noblemen. Spears' heir was his young niece, Anne and Crawford's was a second cousin for a variety of reasons. Neither particularly wanted their line to end with them so marriage was the only solution, and marriage to a foreign noblewoman would not only wipe the stain from Spears' name but could also be played off as a diplomatic alliance, whether or not patriotism came into it at all.

by **Cossack Khanate** » Wed May 01, 2019 4:37 pm

Cabazon Beach

The Cossack private plane touched down at the airport, slowly gliding to a stop. The Royal Guards inside the plane rushed out to stand at attention while Imperator Cyprus Khan and Maharani Meenakshi Khan descended the short stairs and made their way to the armored luxury car that was waiting for them. Minister of finance Nicholas Arzvich followed close behind, talking on his phone with one of subordinates back home. Work never waits.

The black car drove through the winding, well-paved roads of Cabazon, eventually reaching the venue. The Imperator got out first, wearing a crisp black suit with a royal blue shirt on underneath. Next came the Maharani, wearing a traditional Hindu saree. Minister Arzvich got out of the car in a hurry, wearing a dark blue suit. The Imperator was in his 50’s, some streaks of silver running through his well-kept beard and hair. The Maharani was in either her late forties or early fifties, it was hard to tell. Khan smiled and shook hands with the Great Chamberlain and Count Merodach, while the Maharani shook hands with Countess Sharra.

by **Hittanryan** » Wed May 01, 2019 7:52 pm

For the Adirans it had been a short trip. The Union of South Ceti was just southeast of Adiron, bordering the North Arcologian Confederation to the east. Cabazon Beach wasn’t foreign to the Adirans. It was an Old Cetan port town, and for three decades Adirans occasionally did business here. That had all stopped, of course, with the upheaval five years ago. From 2014 to 2016, the Union was effectively a failed state, one backed by a hostile foreign power.

In that kind of chaos, the idea of any members of the Cabinet, let alone the President of the Republic, visiting this city would have been unthinkable. Things had thankfully changed for the better, but the Adirans still didn’t let their guard down. The Secret Service arrived in Cabazon Beach days before the ball to get their bearings and meet with their opposite numbers. Given the developing situation in the Imperium directly north of the Union, the Presidential jet had been escorted through Confederate airspace by two flights of fighters supported by AWACS, which broke off as they approached their designated air corridor in Union airspace. Nevertheless, a motorcade of black state cars with Adiran flags was pulling up to the Queen Adah Hotel carrying the first of the Adirans to arrive and make their way inside.

First out, aside from the driver who opened the door, was President George Rowan and his wife Leslie. The bespectacled Rowan, like the other male Adiran government dignitaries, was wearing a well-tailored, finely made suit. Leslie was a fairly attractive middle aged woman whose figure was still generally holding up. She wore a light blue dress with a scoop neck that hung off her shoulders and flared out at the waist.

As they were walking inside Leslie was saying “You know, I miss when the two of us could just disappear somewhere.”

“Disappear? Come on, Leslie, we haven’t been able to do that since Jen was born,” Rowan pointed out.

“No, not a vacation, I mean just being able to take a walk, you know? Without, you know, scheduling it two weeks in advance,” she said.

Rowan considered this a moment. “While we’re here maybe we can head to one of the beaches.”

“Oh, that’d be great!” Leslie said wistfully.

“Paul said it’s clean, believe it or not,” Rowan added. She shot him a sideways glance.

Secretary of War Paul Fortner had his girlfriend Michelle Parker on his arm. Fortner was a broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, fit-looking man in his forties with a square jaw, dark hair with a bit of salt and pepper on the sides. Michelle had expressive brown eyes, dark hair that tumbled across her shoulders, high cheekbones, and a slender feminine figure. She wore a purple ball gown that hugged her figure and had a high sheer neckline that showed off toned arms and shoulders.

“I can’t believe that three years ago this place was in a rebellion. Look at this hotel! Must be the touristy part of town, I guess,” Michelle was saying.

“Y’know five years ago the Imps stormed that beach we walked on. DoW had been worried about that for years. Back when I was still in…”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Paul, you’ve gotta bring up it up again now?”

“I was just gonna say, back then I’d never have guessed that I’d come down here to enjoy an evening in paradise with the love of my life.”

Michelle’s eyes softened, she smiled at him, and slipped her hand into his. Fortner for his part noticed that John Pendergast had been observing and shot him a wink.

The Treasury Secretary chuckled. His wife Martha didn’t, but kept smiling. Pendergast was visibly older than Rowan or Fortner, with a full head of white hair and light laugh lines. He arguably cut a more impressive figure, though, standing taller than Rowan and making an effort to engage with anyone in his path. When the Royal Cavalry Guards saluted at the door, he vaguely seemed to nod as though the salute was meant for him. Of the three politicians’ wives, Martha was also the oldest and the most conservatively-dressed. She wore a cream-colored dress with a shawl collar. Although her age was evident in wrinkles and a bit of sagging, she seemed to retain decent bone structure in her face, with high cheekbones and an elegant nose.

“I can’t believe he still carries on like that with that girl,” Martha whispered disapprovingly, expression unchanged.

“Ah, let him have his fun, Martha,” Pendergast said amiably.

“He could be her father. It’s unseemly,” she added.

“Sure, fits right in with the rest of ‘em,” Pendergast said. “You have the guest list, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be your eyes as usual.”

“Atta girl,” Pendergast said.

They had paused a moment while the Chamberlain greeted someone in front of them when Leslie noticed something. “What the…ha! Oh my god!” Leslie said, nudging Rowan and looking at the volleyball team. She started to giggle quietly. “We’re all overdressed George.”

Rowan’s brow had crinkled a bit in disapproval but relaxed seeing her reaction. “Yeah, I guess so…I wonder how you’d look in that?” he quipped, giving her an arch look.

“Ugh, no. I’d scare everyone away,” she joked.

The Rowans weren’t the only ones to notice. For a split second, Martha Pendergast looked like she had just discovered a bit of produce in the bottom drawer of her fridge with a bit too much white fuzz and black slime on it. If anyone looked twice at her though, she wore the same practiced smile that she usually did, pretending not to notice.

At that point the Adirans approached the Grand Chamberlain to be greeted and welcomed inside.

by **New Edom** » Wed May 01, 2019 8:21 pm

Dr. Stephen Carmel, New Edom’s foremost conductor, and husband of the leader of the Free Congress Party, was leading a band performing swing numbers that would ideally be relaxing and pleasant to hear. He was a middle aged man in fine shape, and had decided to be painted in treble clefs and notes of black on white body paint. The band were similarly unclothed, men and women alike, as they were the band of the Paraclete Regiment, an Edenist light infantry regiment. This was done to honour the Queen-Empress.

One of the under-chamberlains greeted guests as they went past the two important greeters at the door. “Please, eat and drink and enjoy yourselves,’ he would say as appropriately to “Excellency” “Highness” “Mr. President” and so on. “There is a smoking section in the east wing of the room…”

Indeed, that was where Count Thomas Lalery, the Minister of Finance, stood, holding court and puffing on a big cigar. The broad shouldered, raven haired man wore a tuxedo and was talking to Mr. Lev Tolstoy, a man with a scar on his cheek and greying hair slicked back neatly, also wearing a tuxedo.

“The next phase has got to be funding for the rail projects. It will save so much money, and will move hundreds of tons of goods. What concerns me at this stage is that we’re either going to have to make it a public project or invite in a lot of foreign investors who will want to take the lion’s share of everything,” Lalery was explaining.

“On the other hand, spreading out the investment is, as you are aware, a form of security in and of itself,” pointed out Tolstoy. He popped a stuffed grape leaf into his mouth and munched.

Caleb Ahitophel, the Director of Trade for the National Petroleum Company, was a man nearly entirely spherical, even round of back, and so round of face that a great soft round dewlap beneath his chin which vanished beneath the swell of suet. He was amiable of expression, however, and very neat and tidy and even though he had a plate piled high with danties and other finger foods, they were as neatly placed as a pyramid, and even though he had on a vast napkin, it was barely stained. He listened to the other men talking business and infrastructure with a placid but thoughtful expression.

Dolores Maccabee, the Director of the National Rails, was a thirty-nine year old married brunette with no children, a gorgeous face framed by black edged glasses, and an elegant figure. At five foot seven inches, her hair was long, dark, and straight. Her eyes were brown. Her figure was slender, her thighs perhaps just a bit too skinny. But she was no stick figure. Her hips were just wide enough, and despite her near-skinny shape her was pretty large. “

“If we lay double track surface rail at C1.9m/km, overhead at C0.8m/km and signalling at C0.8m/km. For perspective,” she added. The nearby men turned to look at her politely, Lalery with a bold unreadable expression.

Not far off, Hosidius Geta, the Foreign Minister, a short, proudly made man with a prominent nose and a confidence that made him seem taller, was nearby but barely paying attention. His attention was on Giselle Folais, who had entered the room, and he had a faint smile on his face. “Who’s that?”

Murmilo, his secretary, leaned in and murmured, “She’s the daughter of the Noviteran Ambassador, remember?”

“That’s it. We must compliment Mr. Ambassador Folais on his daughter,” said Geta.

“Please, sir, I beg you…” said Murmilo.

But Geta was already on the move, approaching but staying more than an arm’s length from Folais. “Mr. Ambassador, with representation of your lovely family! How nice of you to come all this way. I’m sure that Their Majesties are delighted. But this cannot be your daughter, I had heard she was a scholar….”

Not far off, the towering, craggy faced General Jonathan Unwerth, the Minister of Defense, was speaking with several officers, including General Abishai Hagar, Admiral Daniel Esarhaddon, Naval Captain Jacomo Iglesias, Colonel Count Jonas Falk, Colonel Cosmo Weber and several others.

“Anyway,” said Unwerth, “It reminds me of something that I observed when I was inspecting...a Mounted Infantry Regiment that I shall not name at this time.

"Anyway, I saw a Sergeant was addressing a squad of 25 and said: "I have a nice easy job for the laziest man here. Put up your hand if you are the laziest." 24 men raised their hands, and the sergeant asked the other man "why didn't you raise your hand?"

"The soldier replied: "Too much trouble raising the hand, Sergeant-Major."

The flag officers laughed in a jolly way.

Among the guests were clusters of military officers. One of thee was Captain Count Alexander Domris, an Imperial Aide-de-Camp, who had the duty, along with his Ghant born wife Countess Alazne, of scoping the room out for their Imperial master and mistress. A very handsome couple, he with light olive skin and dark hair, her with raven hair and very fair skin, they complimented one another in his Royal Cavalry Guards dress uniform and in her crimson ball gown. They had placed themselves well to observe whoever approached the buffet table.

Lieutenant Count Uzziah Sharra, another Guards officer, was arm in arm with his pretty sister, Countess Camilla Sharra. Camilla, honey haired, slim and athletic, looked like a Diana in her ball gown, as though her dress could not hold in her coltish energy. Her expression was naturally gentle and friendly. “Is this truly safe? I mean, just a few years ago this place was a nightmare. This is Arcologia.”

“Yes, I was expecting the food to be aid packages or fried manioc,” joked her brother. “And for us to be in a bunker or something.”

“How can you even joke about this?” she scolded him. “There were terrorists attacks in Fineberg just a month ago!”

“The terrorists are pushing at the daisies or screaming for mercy in Stonehaven now,” said Lieutenant Malachi Unwerth, a third Guards officer, moving in to exchange bows with them. “You need have no fear, sweet Camilla. As for this place, I was here, we killed so many of them we could stack them like millet sheaves. And now we enjoy the pacific high life.”

By contrast, Junior Lieutenant Absalom Shadrach felt a little out of place. He knew how to move through a party like any Edomite gentleman, but this was a bit out of his depth. He and other officers who were mostly attached to regular naval patrols or field units tended to focus on eating and drinking and being polite.

“Hey,” said a Lieutenant near him in a friendly way. “I don’t know if you remember me, you were a grade below me but you were on my part of the quad….”

“Oh, it’s Lieutenant Aaron Gore?” said Shadrach with relief and pleasure. “How nice to see you…” they exchanged friendly bows. “I’m afraid I’m elbows and knees at this sort of thing.”

“I know,” said Gore with a smile, lowering his voice, “I think the painted staff are wearing more than our uniforms are worth, but just try to see it as an honour. Nice music, yes?”

“It is.” Then the two naval officers gaped at the arrival of the Volleyball Team. "What the devil are we looking at?" said Gore.

"I don't know, but I like it." said Shadrach with a silly grin.

Lieutenant-Colonel Sarah Wendt, meanwhile, was alone, and stood near the buffet table. A fair skinned, tanned Anglo-German officer, she had butter-cream short neat hair, and wore a tailored uniform with a blue dress tunic and trousers. She examined her plate with its fruit flowers and vegetable designs on it and munched away.

Waiters and waitresses, in their elegant paint, moved around the room, making sure that drinks were offered (wine, champagne, gin fizzes, fruity tropical drinks loaded with shaved ice, fruit juices, fizzy water) and that trays of appetizers were offered if people did not wish to make their way towards the buffet. Court servants supervised this work, and chefs made sure that all was fresh and ready. Wilting vegetables and fruits were removed and given to the hotel staff to take home.

by **Saroreich** » Wed May 01, 2019 11:37 pm

The casual nudity that one often encounters in New Edom, never failed to surprise Graf Leopold von Rabenstein, despite the fact that he knew to expect it. The presence of his daughter certainly didn't help to allay his discomfort. Comtesse Frederike, however just let out a slight giggle before teasing her father.

"It is just like Uncle Oskar's great Salon" she said in German, referring to a room in Schloss Jochburg were the walls were painted with naked figures in the neoclassical style.

The Foreign Minister ignored his daughter's teasing, knowing that to respond, would only encourage her. Instead he reflected positively on the fact that the guests themselves were dressed.

Graf Leopold looked at his daughter, in her dark aubergine cocktail dress, the retro style of it's cut serving to reinforce the diplomat's thought: She looks just like her mother.

Frederike however had already begun to scan the crowd for a friendly face among the guests.

by **The Selkie** » Thu May 02, 2019 3:27 am

Fiona Bláth of the Tribe of Wexford.
After the arrival of the volleyball team (I felt all the more out of league, especially when Miss Sciotog assured me, that this was not normal), we stood around for a bit, the entire group. It was... weird.
I expected more people mingling with people from other places, not standing around and devouring the buffet like hungry Mudskippers an unguarded picknick basket.
The waiters did make sure, that we all had enough and good to drink, as well as nibbles, but we mostly kept it to fruit juices and left it at that, the occasional nibble vanishing. I envied Kay... I knew her since I was a lass of thirteen Springs and even back in the day, all calories and fat, which she consumed, went into the two right places, giving her a gorgeous figure.
“Alright, Cadets.”, Captain Fearg suddenly caught our attention, as well as the attention of the Ambassadors. “A little brain teaser for you two: Analyse the tactical situation.”
Kay and I looked at each other.
“Tactical, in the sense of this Gala, we're buggered.”, I said in no uncertain terms, “We stand without contacts to others, ogling the waiters and the orchestra, nice music, by the way...”
“Attend a ball in Kyrenaia, with the Sultana in attendance, and you'll grow to hate it.”, Miss Sciotog said in a low growl, which made us grin. The Sultana's love for Jazz and Swing was famous.
“...almost isolated. It is true, that quite a few members of Imperion are here with representatives, but even those are not mingling that much.”, I finished, looking around. My main indicator was, in all of the Gala-y going-ons and not-going-ons, the uniforms. Many military officers were present and their colourful uniforms were a good indicator, who was currently talking to whom... if one was able to successfully identify which uniform belonged to which nation. I must admit, that I did not recognize most of the guests. Geta, Flemming, a few others, that was it. “It's almost that large graduation party of the Wembury Schools, where no one spoke with anyone one didn't know.”
There were wise nods from the Captains, who were well aware, which party we meant. Seemed as if ours hadn't the only squib.
“Then, Cadets, with that in mind, what would you do?”, Captain Trodaí asked.
I looked to Kay. I had answered the first question, by ancient rite the second was hers.
For a moment, I saw the bloodthirst in her eyes.
“Old raiding tactics.”, she said, “The large bulk of the forces is dissolved, the smaller groups of raiders move out to strike in many places at once.”
The Captains looked to Miss Sciotog and Miss Scaipeadh, the two women thinking a moment.
“Well, what are you waiting for?”, Miss Sciotog asked, “Ar aghaidh!“
By reflex, we answered the old battlecry with the traditional reply: “Chuig briseadh!”
Onwards! Towards Battle!
A moment later, I found myself with my arm linked to Captain Fearg, who was leading me away from our 'base harbour', towards our raiding objective. Well, Kay was studying to become an officer of the Fleet, like Fearg and Trodaí already were, I was going to become an officer of the Selkie-Version of the Marines, so who was responsible for raiding? Both of us.
And what was the preferred objective for a raid? The weakly defended, but rich ones. Monasteries, small, but rich merchant towns, fishing villages, a few others.
Of course, a mischievous and wily man like Fearg already spotted his objective and shortly after the woman, who I recognized as some sportsperson, not by recognizing her, but by her built, had departed, we approached the man named Aureliano Coccaro.
Granted, at the time, we did not know his name.
“Good evening, Sir.”, the Captain said with a polite bow and a friendly smile, “A lovely evening, isn't it? Not one to simply stand around and drink by the lonesome, don't you think?” He let a beat pass. “Would you mind us two, strangers in a naked land, to join us?” He smiled at me. “Of course, the young lady will need all her wits and charmé and it would not do to get her sloshed, so it's fruit juices for her... I am Captain Liam Fearg of the Tribe of Cavan, my young companion is Cadet Fiona Bláth of the Tribe of Wexford.”
“It's a great pleasure, Sir.”, I said with a bow and a smile, honestly amused by the slight teasing of the officer.

Felicia Sciotog of the Tribe of Monaghan.
I was not too sure about the metaphor, which the officers and cadets had used, but I had to admit one thing: It was a metaphor, which worked in the context.
It was apt, that I was leading the greatest 'raid' to a place, which had quite a bit of a history with Selkie-Raids. The Delegation from Lillorainen was of a similar size then ours, less uniforms being present, but led by a man, who I respected and, quite honestly, liked.
Silas Flemming, while a good looking man, was not my type, however.
Next to me, not only Ava walked, but also Miss Scaipeadh and Finn. The tall man with the arms like tree trunks walked half a step behind the woman, who was his partner, as if providing cover for her blind spot. It was... one could call it cute.
In any case, at an appropriate distance, I cleared my throat, placed my hand over my heart and, with a small grin, lowered my head. It was a traditional gesture of greeting our own Elders, Flemming would know that (at least I hoped), and it was also used to greet a foreign head of state.
The other three mirrored my gesture.
“May Rhiannon bless the fields of Lillorainen, and especially the orchards of the Viezgürtel, and may Lodan Lir bless the seas with an abundance of seafood.”, I said in a very formal tone, which belied how close Lillorainen and the Free Lands actually were – but formalities had to be done. I raised my head. “It is good to see you again, President Flemming, and to see you and your delegation in good health. We bring a message of friendship from the Elders of the Fifteen Tribes and from the Selkie themselves, as well as best regards, love, hugs and kisses from the lot of them.”
By the end, I smiled – widely, by my standards.

Kayla Urchair of the Tribe of Sligo.
We, on the other hand, had another objective for our raid, one which was appropriate for us: The buffet.
I must honestly admit, that I was... quite smitten with Captain Trodaí, so I was eternally grateful to Fi's Father, who had made it possible for me meet him a few months ago... and apparently, that went well enough that he remembered me, when the unmarried man had been called from his bridge to a Gala and needed a plus one.
Sure, he could have taken any other officer of the Navy, from his first officer to a fellow Captain, maybe even Commodore Ard would have come as his plus one, but he had taken me... a student, Cadet of the Naval School, who dreamed of becoming an officer of his crew and who crushed on him. And had told him so.
“Tell me, Kay...”, he began in Selkie, using the more informal nickname of mine, which I had offered him and which he used in more informal circumstances, “...sensor readings.”
“Many people in suits and dresses expensive enough to buy a new cruiser... or in nothing.”, I replied with a small smile, “And quite a few military officers. Some have their eyes not on the buffet table, but on those at it.”
“So, raid watches.”, he concluded with a smile. “The couple in red, distance ten, for example.” We did not know, that the couple in red was Captain Count Alexander Domris and his wife. We picked a few nibbles. “If I were to bet, he's not any old officer, but something a bit higher. Like everyone here.”
We were surrounded by officers and civilians of high social standing, either by their birth or by their deed or both, and while I was young enough to claim, that I simply did not have the time to make deeds (birth was right out, I was a Selkie), Captain Trodaí... he was an accomplished officer. He had been at Marley Bay, had been part of Operation Glantachán, had been officer aboard the first vessel of the SDF-Navy to visit Lutetii after the Second Vellenge War – he was a good officer, a wonderful man and one, who did not need to shy away.
“We're quite high, too.”, I said, he glanced over to me, “We're Selkie, after all. How did Colonel Arán put it? 'We will break the enemy with the help of our allies.'” The Captain gave a small snort in amusement, the corner of his mouth nudging slightly upwards. He was not a man for wide smiles. “Selkie-Moxie in its purest form.”

by **Munkcestrian Republic** » Thu May 02, 2019 7:09 am

George Fenwick II walked into the room naked with his [NON-PG-13 CONTENT CENSORED], putting all the men in the room to shame.

by **Lillorainen** » Thu May 02, 2019 7:17 am

The men amongst the Lillorainian Delegation, especially Lindholm and Klingebiel, threw more than one look at the volleyball team - of course, they were well aware, that these young women, all above 180 centimeters of size, were more the exception than the rule; Brunhilde Lövenich threw a quick glance towards the young Lillo-Men, who grinned sheepishly.
With some trouble to hide their amusement, they also noticed the young woman in a cocktail dress, who had told her father, or at least a man who could easily be her father, judging by his age, "Es ist genau wie Onkel Oskars großer Salon!" - not that they knew Uncle Oskar or his great salon, but they could easily imagine what it looked like in there. The man she accompanied was, apparently, less comforted, but she seemed to rather ignore his concerns and looked around, for a friendly face.
This looks like a job for me! - Klingebiel thought, and while Lindholm turned to the buffet again, where his fellow countrypeople were, too,, the Ambassador approached the young woman, who certainly was of noble descent; Klingebiel had an eye for that, although he was rather used to Ahjadan princesses.
He lightly bowed his head and extended his hand to her. "Good evening, Miss!" - he said, smiling. "Isn't it a wonderful night? I am Ole Klingebiel, Ambassador of the Federation of Lillorainen. Whom do I have the pleasure with?" He spoke German, of course - Standard German, but traces of a Rhenish accent were easy to hear.

Flemming did not notice all this, for he was being talked to by a woman he recognized at once, from a country he knew very well, and saying, that Lillorainians came along well with the Selkie, was like stating, that the sky was blue - technically correct, but missing the point a bit.
He was also aware of the gesture of placing one's hand over one's heart while lowering one's head, a traditional gesture of greeting - the Selkie, just like the Shamsiyyans, were not exactly handshake-people.
Miss Sciotog's greeting also made clear, what her fellow countrypeople esteemed most about the Federation - this priority of the Selkie-Gods' blessing didn't surprise him a lot.
He smiled and bowed his head in respect, then put his hands together. "May Freyja and Fulla bless the fields of the Free Lands and the young folks, for they are the future of the Lands, may Aegir bless the Rivers and Seas, may Tyr give all His Power to the Defense Forces, and may Thor drop His Mjölnir onto everyone standing in their way!" - he said. This way, the respective Gods of both peoples would bless the others' lands, and it was a common way to prevent the Selkie- and Norse Gods from having their jurisdictions overlapping - although, as Gods, They were presumed to be powerful enough to sort it out Themselves. "Indeed, it's good to see you again, Miss Sciotog. Be aware, that the Meritocratic Council gladly reciprocates your message of friendship, including the best regards, love, hugs and kisses - for I know, that these are exchanged between our people on a regular basis!"

by **Novitera** » Thu May 02, 2019 8:51 am

Noviterans

Passing by Count Merodach and Countess Sharra, some of the Noviterans greeted them with nods and waves. Gladwin, having been present with meetings with the Edomites before was suppose to know better and so did not shake hands. But those who were not so familiar with the culture did not. This included the admirals, Captain Rackham and Dean McCaffrey. Folais, as custom, did his typical gratuitous touching.

“Daddy, why you gropping those people?” Asked Giselle.

“Gropping?” Folais answered, confused. “I’m just being friendly. People like that sort of thing. It’s how you form good bonds.”

Giselle had seen him do that before with those he worked with back home. Though she found it strange, she figured her father was just really close to those he worked with.

Novitera was a country where all the products and services the region had to offer was at their fingertips. So none were really strangers to Chacano or Edomite cuisine. Of course, what was found here was a bit more authentic than what they had back home. All of them took plenty of food except Gladwin who found a place to smoke a cigarette.

Setsuko suddenly found himself surrounded by the two Rear Admirals, McCaffrey and Skewes. Some of them leered at Millie for a moment but it was clear their main interest was in Setsuko. “Wade!” Greeted McCaffrey. “We uh...we were concerned about the lack of sugar at the buffet table and hoped you could help out.”

“Lack of sugar huh? A wise man never comes unprepared for such occassions. Tisk, tisk.” He replied with a devious grin.

“Director sir, we throw ourselves at your mercy. Us men in uniform don’t get to partake often.” Said Admiral Armstrong.

Setsuko lowered his voice. “Give me 20 minutes to finish eating. We’ll find a discrete place.” They rubbed their hands greedily and nodded agreement before splitting off. Their conspiracy now set in motion.

On the move was Captain Royce Rackham in his dark brown army uniform and red beret. He was somewhat handsome. Enough for women to call cute but not very talkative. Rackham sidled up to Sarah Wendt. He was next to her, a hand behind his back and the other holding a glass of beer at his waist while his green eyes studied the crowd. “Madam.” He said simply in greeting without looking at her.

“I was searching for someone else who seemed out of place to bond with. I think I found her.” Rackham said in a low voice then looked at her with a soft smile. He then took his eyes off and went back to looking at the crowd. After taking a sip of beer he turned towards Wendt again and stretched out a hand. “Captain Royce Rackham, 71st Noviteran Hinterlanders.”

Elsewhere Folais face lit up to see Geta. “Mister Geta! My man!” He exclaimed happily and rapidly closed the distance to give Geta an embrace. One arm around Geta’s shoulders, he turned to face Giselle who was wondering who this man was. “This is my daughter! Giselle. She’s been living in Heselory working in digital marketing. But she’s moving to Fineberg so we can spend more time together and I’m thrilled! Now that you mention it, yeah she’s going to be applying for graduate school at University of Fineberg.”

“Giselle, meet Minister Hosidius Geta. He’s Minister of Foreign Affairs for New Edom so we see each other a lot.” Folais introduced Giselle then took his arm off Geta.

Giselle stepped forward and extended a hand. “Oh, nice to meet you Mister Geta.” She said warmly in a very good Roman Latin. Her Noviteran accent was very moderate. Folais, being an international man, made sure of that. “Thank you but I don’t know if you could really call me a scholar. I chose an easy major after all.” There was a shyness to her. Giselle was not unfamiliar with being social. In fact, she was normally a very outgoing and confident girl who was well aware of the effect her looks had on others. This was different however, as she was not use to being around so many powerful men and women. Although Geta’s politeness and apparent delight made her relax a bit. “So...Mister Geta, how do you like working with my father? I imagine you two put in many long hours to hammer out deals together.” She said, paying him a high complement in the Noviteran fashion.

by **Rezmaeristan** » Thu May 02, 2019 1:15 pm

"Excellency, we must go up and talk to someone", said Nekush. "I get that we look somewhat out of place in our tunics, but we are here for diplomacy. Tell ya what, I hear there's a tennis champion here, I'll talk to her. You distract anyone who might go after Prince Ilam and Princess Azr'vin- they're married but I could see someone falling for them and they made the mistake of leaving their spouses back at the Aghaboce. Maybe then you can do some diplomacy."

Telnikad looked over to see Iftag Jr talking to the Cossack Khanate delegation. Maybe it was about to inquire if they had any young children of marriage age for his children. He headed in their direction to talk to them.

"Dishram! I was just explaining our peculiar system to these people. I was about to get to your position and how it came to be."

by **Onnonsland** » Thu May 02, 2019 1:18 pm

“So dear,” the Onnonish under-secretary spoke to her husband after the greetings offered by their hosts were accepted, “I think we should wait a bit on the food and start with some drinks. What do you think?”

The under-secretary’s husband, a tall lanky man with a large and slender beak of a nose and a full, thick beard that was at once well manicured like the garden of country estate and as wild and wooly as a sheep o’ the moors coat. He spread his pencil line lips into a smiled down at his wife who was a respectable five-feet and ten inches to his tree-like six-feet and nine inches. Amber was by no means short by female standards, but next Harry she thought she appeared as a dwarf.

“As always, you know exactly how things should be my dear.” Harry then grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter with his wife following suit. “It is a real shame the wait-staff appear not to have highballs on those trays,” he continued with a mirthful chuckle.”

“Aye, and no whiskey either love. But I assume there is some to be had at whatever passes for a pub in this hotel and town.” Husband and wife both chuckled and then proceeded to sip their wine and offer friendly hellos to whoever they happened to come across. They were by no means in any hurry to dive into any sort of substantial conversation, but they certainly were not going to ignore anyone who wished to speak with them. Amber Welstatt was the Under-Secretary of State for Cornellia after all and it was her job to socialize with foreign diplomats and important members of state.

Parminder Raj, Under-Secretary of Finance for the Council of State, was woman of five-feet and four inches, skin the hue of cocoa beans, lustrous raven coloured hair, and two deep pools of brown for eyes. She was garbed in loose pants of shimmering green with scarlet embroidery writhing like serpents around her legs and buttocks and a choli of like fabric that only just covered the fullest portion of her chest and left the rest of her mildly athletic upper torso barren.

Unlike the under-secretary of state, she had opted to eat first and was carefully eying the food between glances at the under-secretary and her husband. The foreign ministry woman, to Parminder’s knowledge, and her husband were well matched. Ms. Welstat had been on the path to becoming a star footballer before a freak auto crash had left her unable to run for more than a couple of minutes before causing her to right leg to erupt in intense pain. Her husband was a retired cricketer from Plon-on-Geff, turned young adult fantasy novelist. Harry was tall, lanky, and called an “oddly handsome” man by many, though she was not sure what exactly that meant. Amber would not catch your eye right away, but if you took more than a cursory glance in her direction, you would likely find yourself making a thorough examination of the woman. There was something about the woman with her average build from feet to neck, her rounded cheeks, plump pink lips, and sandy blonde hair that begged your attention. She was neither glamorous or aphroditic in appearance.

“They are an fine couple,” considered Parminder while she jabbed at various food items and plopped them unceremoniously on her plate. She was not a chubby woman and still maintained a high metabolism in her early thirties that gave her a healthy appetite and the envious ability not to gain weight regardless of how much she consumed. “A little of this,” Parminder sung quietly to herself, “And a little of th...” Reaching for some tomatoes, and not fully paying attention to her surroundings, Parminder bumped into a woman standing near the buffet tables and grunted out a loud “Oompf” as her plate went crashing to the floor, scattering her tasty prizes across the floor like the poor meatball in that old children’s song she annoyed her mum and dad with as a child.

“Pardon me,” her voice apologetic and her dark cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I am afraid that I have been terribly clumsy and have interrupted your pleasant evening with an unpleasant intrusion.” Parminder then bowed slightly and continued, “Please forgive my inattentiveness, I am Parminder Raj and if there is anything that I may do to rectify my error, please let me know...”

iiWiki · by **Vionna-Frankenlisch** » Thu May 02, 2019 2:06 pm

Cabazon Beach

Upon arrival, the Vionna-Frankenlischian and New Columbian delegations combined, representatives of different countries but subjects of the same King. After making sure that all was in order, and with greetings out of the way, the groups were driven to the Queen Adah Hotel where the event was being held. Upon arrival, the delegations greeted Count Merodach and Countess Sharra warmly but quickly moved on, eager to mingle.

Richard Laurenstowe led the way. The Governor-General was dressed in a neat, black suit of wool with a white dinner shirt and a black cummerbund. Marking his position as Governor-General of New Columbia, a cream coloured silk sash was draped across his body, complete with a golden badge of the Castle of Frankenlisch. Laurenstowe moved straight towards the buffet, drawn by the promise of roast beef.

Colonels Cochrane and Carmont stuck together, surveying the crowd for any fellow military officers. They wore the regular mess dress of an Imperial Army officer and both looked quite the part. Colonel de Carmont looked the picture of a dashing Gallandic officer with his chiselled jawline, dark, shoulder-length hair and a youthful stubble. Cochrane achieved 'the look' through different means, he spoke with a charming Erinite accent and his greying hair was shaggy, his uniform was prim but un-accessorised with medals, bearing only a strip of medal ribbons.

Lord Spears and Lord Crawford watched, incredulously as Admirals Haringoth and Davington and Sir Horace Blackthrope found a table and simply continued their debate over reform. The pair of Earls ate some grilled Capybara and knowingly shook hands, scanning the gala for women.

"Good luck, old boy," Crawford wished with a smile.

"Good luck, Eglantine," Spears replied.

by **The Selkie** » Thu May 02, 2019 2:26 pm

Lillorainen wrote:The men amongst the Lillorainian Delegation, especially Lindholm and Klingebiel, threw more than one look at the volleyball team - of course, they were well aware, that these young women, all above 180 centimeters of size, were more the exception than the rule; Brunhilde Lövenich threw a quick glance towards the young Lillo-Men, who grinned sheepishly.
With some trouble to hide their amusement, they also noticed the young woman in a cocktail dress, who had told her father, or at least a man who could easily be her father, judging by his age, "Es ist genau wie Onkel Oskars großer Salon!" - not that they knew Uncle Oskar or his great salon, but they could easily imagine what it looked like in there. The man she accompanied was, apparently, less comforted, but she seemed to rather ignore his concerns and looked around, for a friendly face.
This looks like a job for me! - Klingebiel thought, and while Lindholm turned to the buffet again, where his fellow countrypeople were, too,, the Ambassador approached the young woman, who certainly was of noble descent; Klingebiel had an eye for that, although he was rather used to Ahjadan princesses.
He lightly bowed his head and extended his hand to her. "Good evening, Miss!" - he said, smiling. "Isn't it a wonderful night? I am Ole Klingebiel, Ambassador of the Federation of Lillorainen. Whom do I have the pleasure with?" He spoke German, of course - Standard German, but traces of a Rhenish accent were easy to hear.

Flemming did not notice all this, for he was being talked to by a woman he recognized at once, from a country he knew very well, and saying, that Lillorainians came along well with the Selkie, was like stating, that the sky was blue - technically correct, but missing the point a bit.
He was also aware of the gesture of placing one's hand over one's heart while lowering one's head, a traditional gesture of greeting - the Selkie, just like the Shamsiyyans, were not exactly handshake-people.
Miss Sciotog's greeting also made clear, what her fellow countrypeople esteemed most about the Federation - this priority of the Selkie-Gods' blessing didn't surprise him a lot.
He smiled and bowed his head in respect, then put his hands together. "May Freya and Fulla bless the fields of the Free Lands and the young folks, for they are the future of the Lands, may Aegir bless the Rivers and Seas, may Tyr give all His Power to the Defense Forces, and may Thor drop His Mjölnir onto everyone standing in their way!" - he said. This way, the respective Gods of both peoples would bless the others' lands, and it was a common way to prevent the Selkie- and Norse Gods from having their jurisdictions overlapping - although, as Gods, They were presumed to be powerful enough to sort it out Themselves. "Indeed, it's good to see you again, Miss Sciotog. Be aware, that the Meritocratic Council gladly reciprocates your message of friendship, including the best regards, love, hugs and kisses - for I know, that these are exchanged between our people on a regular basis!"

Felicia Sciotog of the Tribe of Monaghan.
I bowed my head at the 'counter-blessings', so to speak, his polite return of my unctuous blessings, which I had brought from Fortham.
I also saw his own amusement as to what exactly was supposed to be blessed, things Lillorainen was well-known for, and how familiar he already was with our gestures and customs. Truly, Lillorainen and the Free Lands were good friends and we would stay good friends, at least as long as I was in office!
His blessings were very apt, too.
Freya's and Fulla's blessings for youth and field were always nice to have, as were Aegir's blessings for the seas. Tyr's and Thor's blessings, along with what we hoped Carman Fea already did, were sorely needed, though. We were still engaged in Operation Spartacus and... Gods, it was a mess. War always was. At least the number of wooden boxes returning from that place had diminished.
And to my utmost shame, in religious fervor and will to avenge our beloved Daideo, Donald Crionna, I had been swept along... and I had pushed for a more frontal participation of the SDF. And... Old Raidri had tried to help me over it, but he had not been swept along. He had led the wave.
At the last remark, I had to grin.
The Free Lands Yellow Press knew two very famous cases: Celina Treorai of the Tribe of Louth, a daughter of a very wealthy business family, and her Chris Riesheid, and Amy Laoch of the Tribe of Dundalk, a model and young actress, and her Dragan Bandera. And then there were the untold numbers of people, who met, fell in love and sometimes fell out of it again as well.
He was right, though.
"There indeed is a lot love and friendship between our peoples and the ties get stronger and stronger by the day.", I replied, smiling, "Both between the people and the states and their representatives. Speaking of which..." I turned slightly to my one-eyes name-twin, motioning to her. "...if I may introduce to you the newest member of the Ambassador Groups, Miss Felicia Scaipeadh of the Tribe of Monaghan. She is the Ambassador of the Free Lands in Group 5. You already know Finn."
Both of them bowed their heads with their hands over their hearts, although Finn seemed more at ease and less nervous, while Felicia was nervous as one could be.
Rather unlike her, to be honest.
"This is Felicia's first trip as a full-fledged Ambassador.", Ava said from my other side, "So please be gentle."
I gave a small snort in amusement, the other Felicia did not seem too thrilled by that comment.

Onnonsland wrote:“So dear,” the Onnonish under-secretary spoke to her husband after the greetings offered by their hosts were accepted, “I think we should wait a bit on the food and start with some drinks. What do you think?”

The under-secretary’s husband, a tall lanky man with a large and slender beak of a nose and a full, thick beard that was at once well manicured like the garden of country estate and as wild and wooly as a sheep o’ the moors coat. He spread his pencil line lips into a smiled down at his wife who was a respectable five-feet and ten inches to his tree-like six-feet and nine inches. Amber was by no means short by female standards, but next Harry she thought she appeared as a dwarf.

“As always, you know exactly how things should be my dear.” Harry then grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter with his wife following suit. “It is a real shame the wait-staff appear not to have highballs on those trays,” he continued with a mirthful chuckle.”

“Aye, and no whiskey either love. But I assume there is some to be had at whatever passes for a pub in this hotel and town.” Husband and wife both chuckled and then proceeded to sip their wine and offer friendly hellos to whoever they happened to come across. They were by no means in any hurry to dive into any sort of substantial conversation, but they certainly were not going to ignore anyone who wished to speak with them. Amber Welstatt was the Under-Secretary of State for Cornellia after all and it was her job to socialize with foreign diplomats and important members of state.

Parminder Raj, Under-Secretary of Finance for the Council of State, was woman of five-feet and four inches, skin the hue of cocoa beans, lustrous raven coloured hair, and two deep pools of brown for eyes. She was garbed in loose pants of shimmering green with scarlet embroidery writhing like serpents around her legs and buttocks and a choli of like fabric that only just covered the fullest portion of her chest and left the rest of her mildly athletic upper torso barren.

Unlike the under-secretary of state, she had opted to eat first and was carefully eying the food between glances at the under-secretary and her husband. The foreign ministry woman, to Parminder’s knowledge, and her husband were well matched. Ms. Welstat had been on the path to becoming a star footballer before a freak auto crash had left her unable to run for more than a couple of minutes before causing her to right leg to erupt in intense pain. Her husband was a retired cricketer from Plon-on-Geff, turned young adult fantasy novelist. Harry was tall, lanky, and called an “oddly handsome” man by many, though she was not sure what exactly that meant. Amber would not catch your eye right away, but if you took more than a cursory glance in her direction, you would likely find yourself making a thorough examination of the woman. There was something about the woman with her average build from feet to neck, her rounded cheeks, plump pink lips, and sandy blonde hair that begged your attention. She was neither glamorous or aphroditic in appearance.

“They are an fine couple,” considered Parminder while she jabbed at various food items and plopped them unceremoniously on her plate. She was not a chubby woman and still maintained a high metabolism in her early thirties that gave her a healthy appetite and the envious ability not to gain weight regardless of how much she consumed. “A little of this,” Parminder sung quietly to herself, “And a little of th...” Reaching for some tomatoes, and not fully paying attention to her surroundings, Parminder bumped into a woman standing near the buffet tables and grunted out a loud “Oompf” as her plate went crashing to the floor, scattering her tasty prizes across the floor like the poor meatball in that old children’s song she annoyed her mum and dad with as a child.

“Pardon me,” her voice apologetic and her dark cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I am afraid that I have been terribly clumsy and have interrupted your pleasant evening with an unpleasant intrusion.” Parminder then bowed slightly and continued, “Please forgive my inattentiveness, I am Parminder Raj and if there is anything that I may do to rectify my error, please let me know...”

Kayla Urchair of the Tribe of Sligo.
I wanted to add a comment to Captain Trodai about something or the other, something trivial, most likely having to do with the nibbles and what our kitchen on training drives whipped up... not to mention the concoctions Juna cooks up, as someone bumped into my back with a Oompf.
A plate clattered to the ground, I turned around, my eyes filled with rage for a moment...
...until I beheld the woman. She was not pretty in the sense of 'She's going to be in Bicíní's next catalogue!' sort of way, but her face drew attention to it. Not to mention, that she apologized before I could even take in air to berate her.
I let her apologize, speak fully, before I replied.
"No harm done, Miss Raj.", I replied with a small smile, "And no need to rectify anything to me. Just... please be more careful in the future, okay?" I still had a small smile. "If you want, you can join us for a few more nibbles. I'm Cadet Kayla Urchair of the Tribe of Sligo, Naval School of the SDF-Navy." I motioned to the Captain, who watched the proceedings with a small hint of interest in his eyes. "This is my date for tonight, Captain Galen Trodaí of the Tribe of Westmeath, SDFS Maighdean."
He bowed his head. "A pleasure, Miss Raj."
The brevity of his addition was not meant as an offense - he was just not a man for many words.

by **Neue Regensburg** » Thu May 02, 2019 3:17 pm

OOC: I'm not exactly an expert on women's clothing, just trying to match the outfit to the character. If I'm horribly off, you've been warned.

IC:

The two guardsmen checked their weapons one last time, then sheathed them in the holsters hidden under their dress uniforms. Captain Michael Cornelius, a 25 year old, was driving the limo, while 1st Lieutenant Damien Innenwelt, 21, sat in the passenger seat. These were two of the youngest members of the Royal Guard, but their noble provenance and combat experience made them ideal for situations such as this. That being said, neither gentleman expected any trouble beyond keeping Sophia from getting into a fight or leading Christina away from anybody making her uncomfortable. Both gentlemen were tall, with military-cut hair (Innenwelt has black hair, Cornelius has light brown hair), pleasant faces and muscular builds. Being noblemen both, their secondary duty was to mingle and make contacts at the party. If that contact happens to be a hot girl, so be it.

The princesses sat in the back, catching up for the first time in a while and giggling. The younger princess, Christina, wore an elegant and flowing blue dress that was designed to catch eyes without betraying the modesty of the girl. She sat with low-cut heels that had the same concept in mind. Her hair was straight down, preferring not to seem vain. This was in stark contrast to her older sister, Sophia, who wore a low-cut red dress, lots of makeup (almost too much but not quite), and had black high heels. She wore her hair in elaborate braids, and was ready for a party.

Sophia asked Christina, "Did Tiana get a new boyfriend? I saw some local lord's son or something of the like making out with her when I entered the palace earlier today." Christina blew up with laughter. "Yes. He's soooooo cute, but they're kind of annoying together." Sophia asked, :Because you like him, or for some other reason?" Christina hadn't stopped laughing, and she said, "I can just meet a boy here. They're annoying because all they do is make out, watch movies and..." Now it was Sophia's turn to laugh. "Ok, so I was at a party the other night and this guy walked over. I was just relaxing and sipping my cocktail when he tried to slip something in!" Christina stared at her older sister. "That's not funny, Sophia. You could have gotten hurt!" Sophia laughed, "Yeah, but I flipped him onto the ground, drained my cocktail and danced for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure he just sat at the bar the rest of the night, and then the Guardsmen took him as he left." Christina asked, "How wasted was he when they took him?" Sophia just made a gesture with her hands, indicating that the would be assaulter was completely gone by the end of the night. The girls giggled together as they approached the gala.

Damien remarked to Michael, the window shielding their voices from the princesses, "I envy Princess Christina's innocence. Do you think anyone will give her trouble tonight?" Michael responded, as he parked, "If they have trouble, that's what we're here for. My advice is to enjoy yourself, assignments like this are few and far between. We'll be back on sniper duty next week, so find a pretty girl and ask her for a dance." The kid laughed, "Yes sir, Captain," as he threw up a sloppy salute. Michael laughed too. Though in public they followed proper rank discipline, the two men were fast friends with their similar backgrounds. "If only we could drink, tonight might just be perfect," remarked Michael. "If only," echoed Damien.

The guardsmen opened the doors for the princesses, and the four walked in. The girls walked together, and the guardsmen followed loosely, as they went to greet the Grand Chamberlain and Countess. Sophia bowed to them, Christina following suit. The two noble guards bowed as well.

by **Ashab** » Thu May 02, 2019 3:23 pm

Ashabis

"You think you're special now because you're 'Shield of the Republic' and on your way to a Party membership?" Said Nakarshid Kozadeh before the event. The foreign minister of Ashab had sat down next to him at the bar to order a whiskey in the hotel before the event.

Captain Karzan Javanai shook his head. "Really, everyone has it all wrong. I'm not that ambitious Minister Kozadeh..."

"Lies!" Kozadeh said harshly with a slap on the table drawing a few eyes. He lowered his voice. "You may have made some powerful friends in the Party. But don't play stupid with me. We're watching you. Especially now that you’ve hitched yourself to Zaher.”

Kozadeh downed his whiskey and left. Javanai sighed and went back to his beer. His division got attached to Zaher’s Western Corps command during the war when they were scrambling to bring units up to the front and had been there ever since. Javanai never deliberately chose to serve under his command. It was all coincidence. He had even tried to transfer out to an administrative unit in Tarnum but Zaher had thrown away the form.

The Ashabis entered, Kozadeh first wearing a fine suit. Then came General Raamiz Zaher wearing large aviator sunglasses with his large belly. The odor of sweat, bad cologne, cigars and whiskey was emanating off him. At his side was Captain Javanai who had on a rather bland expression. They were both in tan military uniforms with red embroidery and olive drab berets. Javanai was thinking about how he did not want to be here. Not because of the lack of hospitality. That was a welcome treat indeed. More so, Javanai hated the idea of being noticed as some kind of public figure or player in the game of power which he certainly was not. Javanai glanced at some of the aids who worked for the other dignitaries and felt the hot sting of jealousy. Their lives were so safe, banal and they were probably paid well too.

Zaher snapped him out of his thoughts. “It is good you are here Captain. We must show the world that Ashab has men like you. Men with iron hearts and balls. Men like you!” He said gleefully. “Remember what I told you back home, stick with me and I shall see you rise high in the Party. After your tour in Arcologia, you shall be promoted and made a Party member. I swear it.”

That declaration had made Javanai immediately excited. Major! He would be out of combat roles. A desk and at a headquarters company doing paperwork. Oh joy! God has finally taken pity on me!

“I’ll send you to Tarnum to help press my interests there. You will be in the spotlight. Politics. But you must be careful. It will be a very dangerous road ahead. More dangerous than when you held the river that day. If you survive, you’ll become a very important man.” Zaher continued.

The light in Javanai was immediately snuffed out. He had to find a way to remain a Captain. “Surely, I am undeserving of such a promotion. I was just recently made Captain. I must go before a promotion committee and they will reject....” I’ll stay in Arcologia forever! Not that!”

Zaher waved a dismissive hand. “Modest as always. You’re truly a man of principle.” He roared with laughter. “I guess that's why you are where you are. You do deserve it and I’ll make sure the promotion hearing will be a mere formality. Do not worry about that.”

Javanai inwardly despaired and decided he would have to have some kind of mishap in Arcologia. Something that would displease the Chacanos so much that they would complain to the Army Bureau and demand that better officers be sent. That would shame the Republican Party. It must be enough so that Zaher could not promote him without undermining his own honor but not enough to ruin his career entirely. A loss but Javanai knew he had to save himself. Perhaps the aura of the “Shield of the Republic” would be broken and he could fade into obscurity. Yes, that would be the way!

They greeted the Countess and Grand Chamberlain. Zaher let them both get a whiff of his foul odor before moving off to go light another cigar making sure to hand one to Captain Javanai who was not fond of cigars but too much of a coward to refuse.

“Do you feel any animosity towards the Edomites General? You know, for the war and the incident?” Asked Javanai.

Zaher shook his head. “It was just politics boy. There may be lingering enmity but with the right deals and promises, the Edomites won’t pull a hair for us. Already headed that way. What we’re here for is to probe for foreign supporters even among the Edomites. Test the waters as to who will back my ascendance. I had to call in many favors to be at this party.”

Javanai looked shocked. “General, are you planning...something?” He asked.

That made Zaher snort. “Ha! I had considered seizing Tarnum many a time. I could do it with the Western Corps at my back. But Yanque would never support me if I did that. That’d leave us vulnerable to foreign powers or even take us to war with Chaco. We couldn't win. Not if we're fighting General Kazi and two divisions of Republican Guards at the same time. No. You and I will bide our time until Anjideen’s demise. He is a frail man after all. Then we shall strike.” He said slamming a fist into a palm. Javanai did not like the idea of being part of this conspiracy in the slightest. “There’ll be Anjideen’s cabinet to deal with but our biggest threat is General Kazi in the...who is that?” Zaher asked. He was leering at Camilla Sharra and rubbing his belly.

Captain Javanai looked and turned back. “I do not know. But she is pretty.” He said with a shrug.

Zaher looked away before Camilla could catch him staring lecherously. Not that he was ashamed of doing so. He only wanted to see the rest of the talent in the room. “So many pretty women. A shame none are whores. What kind of party has no whores?” He asked rhetorically. “Not to worry. I have booked us a flight to San Crispiano after this. No need to go back right away.”

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