OWL recommends voting $FOR$ the at-vote resolution, "Commend Nakarisaune". The Delegate has been asked to cast their vote accordingly.

Please find below the Office's Analysis for an examination of the resolution and the reasons for the final recommendation.

CONCRETE SLAB: The Office's Analysis? Pfffffffft! What is this - the General Assembly? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This is Commend Nakarisaune we're talking about. That nation used to have a bat-wielding, bubblegum-popping lady on its flag. Now it has a cute little guinea pig. Neither of those flags got a bland, boring Commendation. They don't deserve a dour recommendation either! Tin, hit the last movement of Beethoven's Ninth on the vinyl. Magecastle, get the DVD player up and running. Millenhaal, turn down the lights. This is going to be a story unlike very few others told in the World Assembly. Let us proceed, then...
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NARRATOR: Once upon a time, in a political venue of great importance, there was a quiet, diligent, bookish - and positively fun-loving - woman who insisted that she represented the simply marvellous nation of Westinor in those imposing halls. Nobody could verify this was the case, but she was about to prove her doubters wrong. (She also had a cat of such significance it appears on the Westinorian flag alongside her, but that's besides the point.)
It should be no coincidence, too, that this woman was a great defender of regional sovereignty, one who did her utmost to prevent the evisceration of regions and their cultural scenes when she was not recognising the many Heroes of Valhalla... or, indeed, praising her closest friends and allies. Nakarisaune - known to some as Nakari, others as Budgie Snugglers, and the cognoscenti as absolutely fabulous - was among that second, exalted group.
For twenty-nine tiring days and twenty-nine exhausting nights, she set out to work. Some people pointed out clerical errors. A handful of others offered substantiative feedback on military and political matters alike, helping to make sure Nakari was praised as surely as could possibly be. One reeled back the years to joke about the good old Spear Danes. A few even provided their unwavering, unconditional support. She took all of them into account, and was all set by the twenty-ninth day.
Where to next? The delegates - all one-thousand of them, in their remarkable and incredible diversity. Hulldom, Bruh LOL, South Boston Irishmen, Hahqsthqstan, The Licentian Isles: she canvassed them all. According to the splendid ambassador from Westinor, nobody was too big or too small, too safe or too controversial, too entrenched in the ways of defending regions from harm or too set in devising how to bring about their destruction to learn about the marvels and wonders of Nakarisaune.
anjo the chicken, the symbol of Tepertopia, with his small avian stature and familiar boxy beak, was no exception. When she turned up to the farm that headquartered his native South Pacific's internal affairs, the ambassador attempted to explain to him, with her typical sass and verve, why Nakarisaune was so spectacular as to warrant this greatest honour of all. It did not matter. "Hühnergackern?" he responded with some confusion a few sentences in.
Wisely, the Westinorian ceased and let him peck in the general direction of the heaving concrete slab that served as the base of his region's Office of WA Legislation. That ordeal took twenty minutes: she checked in and wandered around, peckish and uncertain herself, before realising that the ringmaster of the owls was the Minister of Defence, too, ironically monikered as a Concrete Slab - a man who too appeared on his homeland's flag. This made him delayed, busy with his job, yet at once an expert at Nak's craft.
When she saw him, the ambassador snapped her fingers and asked "Nakarisaune, sir - have you ever heard of her?" To which he responded "I think I have, Madam, more than quite a few times." Now bear with me, fellow observers, for this is the part where it gets fun; the part where it gets tricky, sticky and oh-so-pernickety. One verbal slip, one simple error, and he could be so disgusted that he'd refuse to tell anjo about the joys, delights and wonders of Nakari.
"Well, Mr Slab, to begin - and then add - that Nakari's one of the very nicest I know! Your halls and chambers in the South Pacific echo with memories; recollections of her. She guarded the legislature, guided legislators, and made all the legislation get debated on time!" The Slab swiftly nodded "I remember all that. She wore many hats, but none of them fell flat."
"She had more caps than you think, Sir," she proceeded to say, "top hats, baseball caps, helmets and berets! She was Prime Minister emeritus - quite a fancy thing to say - where she stood by the true East Pacifican leaders over the Rahls who were set on removing great numbers; declassified as many once top-secret files as it was within her power to do, led events exciting and dour alike, and so much more I haven't mentioned besides!" "Oh my goodness me, that is quite nice," said the Slab, "dare I say that's Commendable in itself?"
"I'm not done yet with her contributions to your lands, strong, free and more resilient than any other democracy in the feeders and sinkers! Four years ago, when the people voted to be Independent no more - to seek meaningful independence for every innocent region, every last one, as defenders; I should know, I've taken that path myself - Nakari played a greater role than almost, almost anyone in helping make sure the local Special Forces furthered this purpose. Would you hazard a guess as to how many regions she freed from opposition clutches?" The Slab admitted, with some reluctance, that "the number's slipped my mind."
"Almost two thousand - that's one in every two operations! I suspect you would find those prosecutions to be well and truly impressive in nature, alongside the many larger missions she's led to stop raiders from executing their dastardly schemes and helping to inform her brethren about how best to save the world," the ambassador added with not a single hitch. "Has she not done likewise for other great bands of protectors and servers?" wondered the Slab, almost rhetorically.
"Yes! Yes, dear Slab; yes, she has - and has she done it in some style, too! She has helped the Grey Wardens free over six thousand regions from those deathly clutches, supporting projects in the most unsavory regions I know to help demolish them and their unique, distinct and horrifying brands of hatred, once and for all, if that wasn't enough!" "Is she just a grunt?" the Slab questioned. "Oh, most certainly not," the ambassador zapped back, "for she's worked on guide books, looked after guidance gadgets, and guided the development of pioneering - now widely-deployed - tactics to ensure defenders are harder to get rid of, disrupt operations more frequently and throw those dangit Darkspawn off balance!"
"Darkspawn... quite the choice of word there, madam. I'd imagine you'd not be as militant when arguing your case in front of tens of thousands of voters, all eager to have their say, some of them from communities much different as you." The Slab was a South Pacifican lifer; he knew a lot about the Wardens, but he was far from enmeshed with their culture. It didn't take long before his ears were ringing with her response: "But, you see, I do serve as a Grey Warden. We can be vocal, but we always try to be fair and even-handed. Oh, and there's even more."
"What more? When will you let me go to tell anjo about why he shan't say 'no'?" "When I'm done, Sir, and not a moment sooner. In addition to saving regions from doom and the South Pacific from inefficiency, she also saved the Rejected Realms from complete, utter and total stagnation! In her time there, she agreed the broadest defenderwide treaty anyone ever seen, kept up ages-old Rejected traditions mostly involving a good old sing-song, an art which I'll admit I'm really rather good at, and helped continue the new era of grand, week-long Rejectmases with so many events, so many parties, and so much fun you won't keep up! I couldn't!"
Suddenly, a green and fresh suit bumped into the lobby, offering the Slab a piece of his mind: "would you ask anjo to approve my proposal to require that all postal services, water, gas and electricity, the whole Goddamned lot in every member state be taken into private hands, thus enhancing accountability and protecting shareholders, not stakeholders? Stakeholder capitalism is communism, I may add." The Slab gave him a look and said "not right now, Sir," snapping back "I'm in a meeting. A critical meeting! Now what were you saying, you charming young lady?"
"Oh, my goodness! I really meant to add she also commandeers the dutiful issue-authors within Sammuramat, helping to warn world leaders about pets of all descriptions - not just cute little guinea pigs - that have passed away within their near-and-dear families, before coming back half a dozen years later to tell them that some people within their nation were so dreadfully addicted to the well-known psuedoscience of astrology that they almost left their children to die, and letting them know on each of those occasions how and how not to respond to the situation."
By now, it was becoming readily apparent that the ambassador was talking - a lot, perhaps uncharacteristically so. Her penchant was in writing, defending, letting people know how much they were valued; speech, but for this one instance, was hardly her strong suit. On that note, the Slab preferred to author other things; how much did he care about this last embellishment? It showed when he apologised, said "I'm distracted - I haven't a clue what that means or who that is, but it sounds pretty cool. It's nice you've told people about that, however, because folks geekier than I will understand that passage."
Wishing not to come to an abrupt halt, she asked "are you sufficiently convinced, convicted and faithful in my delivery and Nak's Commendability?" The Slab didn't need to think, but he did, and just responded "hell yeah." The ambassador, reverting back to her introverted self - one more suited to thinking about and arguing, on paper, her points than wowing those in power with her ways with words, sentences, phrases and grammar - said "I know, right? I'd really appreciate it if you could tell the delegate; that would be lovely of you. Thanks."
To nobody's surprise, the Slab set out to remind anjo of just how splendid she was. But it must have come as a shock to him to run up against Milly, even more nondescript, who blocked his path and then promptly wailed "Sir, you ought to warn anjo against this! The South Pacific as a region is evil and bad and to laud anyone who's worked at that place would be sad!" The Slab told them "please, don't be silly," to which they responded "sorry, I was silly."
With Milly out of the way, all that was left was the treacherous quest to anjo's coop. It was a sizable coop, grand enough for a human, with three bedrooms, a dining hall and a great egg-laying plot besides. Having found his way inside the dwelling, Slab diluted, squeezed and twisted the ambassador's wordy and verbally fluid message, simply saying "could you please approve her Commendation of Nakarisaune? That person's done a lot of wonderful things, over here - and in other wonderful places."
anjo was so impressed by the simplicity and yet veracity of the message that he crowed many times; he crowed so much and so loud that his crowing could be heard in the farthest reaches of the North Pacific. Then once he was done - when he was exhausted enough for a day - the Slab slid him a real paper copy of the Commendation. He didn't need to look; he just grasped his stamp and stamped. It is a testament to the Westinorian ambassador's ability and capability that she convinced seventy of anjo's colleagues to follow him.
Seventy was enough - more than enough. She would have fancied hundreds upon hundreds, but seventy sufficed; seventy would bring her Commendation, beautifully and so wittily scribed unlike any before it, to vote. But it does not take seventy to acknowledge that Nakari is a great defender, a far-from-boring bureaucrat, an inspirational leader and a well-spoken guide on a scale few others can match in any one of these domains - and nobody, perhaps, can live up to in all four of them... Surely, it is a universally acknowledged truth.
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CONCRETE SLAB: I'm afraid that's the end of that DVD. It's run its course; it's served its time; it, unfortunately, can say no more about why Nakari is a wonderful person. So wonderful, in fact, that we have not been able to find any serious arguments against Commending her. Without further ado... say the line, Drew!
DREW DURRNIL: Thus, OWL recommends a vote FOR the at-vote resolution, "Commend Nakarisaune".
CONCRETE SLAB: Thanks, Drew. That means the world to me. Imagine what the recommendations are going to look like when you take on the top job.

With tremendous pride, OWL recommends a vote FOR the at-vote resolution, "Commend Nakarisaune".