AntarcticaBoard

National Capitol Building in Beverrayin, Kasai province, Xmara

VP Alasio Behenna: We need to do something about these raids. We can't just let them happen.
Pres. Aveeo Xanthopoulos: I suggest we call a meeting of all the national leaders in Antarctica (minus the raiders). We need to discuss our next course of action against them.
VP: When? Where?
Pres.: ASAP, and at the Polusaj Building here in Beverrayin.

Background information: The Polusaj Building is the building in Beverrayin used for meetings of nations that are being hosted by Xmara. Of course, it is not the official regional building. It is just the one used by Xmara when a meeting is hosted there.

(OOC: I'll create a thread in the forums for this and link it here when it's time for the meeting.)

*looks at Ronnie* not sure Ronnie eye wise

Thankyou I try to look my best at invasions
And what's all this undead talk and dying and coming back to life....I was born this way

*Collective skeleton soldiers look out of security dome at the approaching military*

Soldier: Shoukd we do something about them?

Mercenary: Yeah probably. Hey do you like this extremely detailed map of Antarctica i found over there.

Assassin: I can go and see why their doing if you want?

Soldier: No...Just scare them off. Maybe release the steletal kraken on them?

Goblin beast master: The Kraken is sleeping in another region...We can't use him this time

Soldier: Damn it

The hels syndicate wrote:

We are looking for trade aggrements

Soldier: Trade you say? We could use some more weapons...

Mercenary: Yeah i think some of us are still using flintlock stuff

Pirate: Yar no need to get rid of the classics if they ain't broken matey

Vampiric kitten wrote:

*flies down with nameless starts walking around food on table looking for blood*

*Nameless hops down to a chair and then to the ground, grabs a rat and carries it back up to the table for his friend*
Nameless!
*Plague runs up*
Where have you been? My Queen, I am sorry about the, uhm, rat. Nameless thinks a dinner table is good for any kind of dinner.

Apparently rum causes the natives of Antarctica to become mute.

(busy busy irl... and as I warned you, we aren't the most active bunch anymore heh)

Premier Lieta O'Shea slammed down the phone for the fourth time in an hour, as her plane hit the ground. As she suspected, the others had a hands off approach to what they seemed to deem a "nuisance" rather that a real problem. Others wanted to convene a conference to discuss matters. No, she thought - this ends here, today. The "invaders" seemed to be complacent for now, not moving from their original camp. Unfortunately, long range bombing was now out of the question as her own country's media have seemed to swarm the area.

She focused on the other person in the room. She sneered at the smirk that was on his face - she was too tired to put up a pretense. It was always the same disingenuous smile - mocking her, daring her to prove him wrong.

"Chancellor Riordan, you are sure you want to do this personally?"
"Of course, your excellence, that is our job is it not? When I was elected as chancellor, I promised to lead the Voltaru. This is why I am here, after all."
A pause, and a frown. "Of course. I don't need to remind you that the High Order has decided that a peaceful outcome to this situation is desirable. I want these people out of our region, Chancellor. Make them fully aware that we do not take any kind of incursion lightly."
"Of course, Premier. If there is nothing else, I should be going... our penguin intelligence has told me that there is an Athanian delegation present. I shudder to thing what they seek to gain from this situation."
"No you may go. Just don't sell the cow, Cormac."

Chancellor Cormac Riordan, High Minister of Foreign Affairs, stepped off the Premier's plane into the refreshing Antarctic air. Flanked by a team of Voltaru security, he confidently walked toward the opening in the structure before him. He gently withdrew a document form his left pocket, and tried to locate what Voltaru intelligence had identified as the female leader of the invaders. He slipped his summer hat over his thick mop of auburn hair and tried to take in the situation. Though he enjoyed thoroughly mocking the Premier - she was right about one thing - this was a very weird situation.

Once they were far enough away from the plane, one of the security men planted a large Antarctican and Voltaru flag in the ice. Another handed the Chancellor a small microphone, and his smooth velvety voice seemed to start as a whisper, yet it was clear everyone in the area was hearing him: "Attention Invaders. The Governments of this region wish to discuss your purpose here and your withdrawal from our territory. Please respond with an emissary from your people."

"Sir, what are you orders! There are skeletons coming at us with what seem to be large buckets of hot water!"

Profit Enforcer Brock Freeman didn't hear his subordinate. All he could do was mutter... "She walks in beauty, like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes..."

His men knew when profit was lost - and they knew you can't make deals when you are dead. The remaining Athanians dropped the skeleton they were attempting to harvest, and jump into their vehicle, retreating south. They were already forming a report about their superior's failure to obtain their objective - embellishing it to make themselves look better. A good lie, after all, is easier to believe than the truth. If they were lucky, they would all rise higher in their Capitalist Level.

Brock, meanwhile, just starts staring at the Queen, wondering if he can get a reservation at that one restaurant he has always wanted to go to. His revelry is interrupted by the loud and jarring announcement from the Voltaru. Scowling at the blasted Socialists presence, he starts walking toward his desire, waving at her to come his way.

So, we do. The one over here - is he doing a statue impression? Should we tip him? Is he a street performer? Shall I give him a few pieces of eight while you talk to the distinguished lady over there?

Do you need protection from this street performer oh glorious goddess of the fleshless? It might be a mime. Ugh, mimes.

The Voltaru security guards start to erect a small tent around the Chancellor, shielding him from the wind and some of the cold. Seemingly out of nowhere comes a small field kitchen, on top of which is a boiling kettle of water.

Two tea cups, with the Volltaru Seal, are set on a small card table placed in front of the Chancellor.

"That should do it, thank you Lieutenant. There was no way I was going to trust them to prepare a proper cup of tea. I do hope the Queen makes it over here soon. This southern wind always dries my skin."

"Chancellor sir, the Athanians appear to have retreated, except for one who appears to be wandering toward the Skeletons, sir. Should we.. um, hinder his progress?"

"The Athanians are a valued trading partner, Lieutenant, even if they are hopelessly lost in their capitalistic dogma. No, lets just see where this all leads." He starts munching on a biscuit.

Takes beautifully written note on lovely parchment, tied with a delicate silk ribbon, and approaches the Chancellor. Stops respectfully at a point exactly halfway between the Chancellor's tent and Queen Ramazakal's tent, and draws a line in the snow with her foot. Crossing over, she approaches the nearest security guard in a nonthreatening manner.
If you please, I have a message from the wondrous, magnificent, fierce and beautiful Queen Ramakal. Would you be so kind as to take it to your Chancellor? I will wait here for her reply. Also, what's with the guy over there staring at my Queen? The drool is beginning to freeze on his chin.