nysalogs | (mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

(mini-event) THE COALITION OF REFUGEES

THE COALITION

On the day of the council, there are markers tied with ribbons in the colors of both Olympia and Wyver that line the paths from the cities to the South Outpost, meant to guide anyone with an invitation to the first meeting of the Coalition of Refugees.

While during the previous festivities of the gala the Great Hall was sharply divided between Olympians and Wyverns, the differences between the factions are not so apparent now. Inside, the hall is decorated with a more subdued mix of the white and gold of Olympia and the red and black of Wyver. Banners, pennants, and bunting drape from the ceiling and wind around wooden pillars. To one side of the hall, there are tables set up with drinks and finger foods — refreshments for the guests, for after the opening speech. A raised platform has been set up at one end of the room, flanked by contingents of both the Royal Guards and the Knightryders standing at attention side by side, differentiated only by the make of their armor and the colors they wear.

Ashti, Shenya, and Heryn stand waiting for the arrival of their monarchs, pointedly ignoring each other; notably, Raysc, Shanrian's son and the leader of Mythi's Fangs, is conspicuously absent.

Staff members cluster to the side of the stage, waiting for the speech to begin. A whisper drifts over from a woman in one of the Olympian groups: Do you really think the Empress will try to negotiate for Nithor's skull?

The man she's speaking to shakes his head and scoffs, answering: Ha! Not a chance. She thinks it's too soon, who knows if this peace will last. Besides, there's no way she's willing to give up Ysevrai's heart.

A horn sounds, and the staff members subside, glancing around to see if anyone's overheard. A moment later, and Simwe and Shanrian make their appearance, walking together to the stage for their speech.

Aha… we have quite the gathering here, do we not? All of our heroes in one place… This may be an unprecedented meeting, but it seems as though it will be a productive one. Let us begin by thanking all of you for your contributions to our cities in recent times.

Since your arrival, you have weathered the plague that swept through our cities and aided us in finding its cure; you have withstood the scorn of those who were meant to shelter you turning against you, and helped us quell riots in the very hearts of our homes; you have been taken right off the streets and endured hardships too terrible to tell, and have proven heroes in bringing our people safely home. You have done much for us, and shown yourselves loyal beyond many who were born within our walls. We will allow your voices to go unheard no longer! Today—

Today, we will hear you. You have demonstrated both strength and valor in equal measures — it follows that you will be wise as well, and it is that wisdom that we wish to hear brought in council to our cities. You are gathered here to look beyond our history of violence and hostility, to see beyond the prejudices we hold. We hope that with your clearer sight, you'll keep in your hearts the betterment of both of our fair cities, rather than allow pettiness to hold sway and lift one over the other.

Those gathered here are deemed worthy by action and by the trust of your brethren: a council. Amongst yourselves, decide what matters most to you about your lives within the cities. Discuss what changes you wish to see, and how those changes should come about. Reach an agreement, put your motions to us, and should they be feasible, we will see what sort of effect your ideas will have. The two proposals with the most support among your fellows will be those we implement, so argue your reasoning most convincingly!

And remember, this is your chance to impress us. If your advice is sound, we will look to you again.

At this, both rulers fall silent, and withdraw to a balcony to oversee the proceedings. This is not their meeting, after all — this is something that only the refugees can determine the outcome of.

FINAL OOC NOTES

Welcome to your first chance to have a voice in the NPC governments, Players! Your task is, as a group, to decide the two most important IC issues you would like to see Olympia and Wyver address, and then put forward a plan of action for how to improve whatever those problems are, which will then be implemented in May.

Since these are strictly Olympian and Wyvern issues, topics should still adhere to the Natha's policies of not revealing anything about the Storm or the Natha's existence, but beyond that, you're free to propose any topics you think should be addressed about your characters' way of life in the cities — after all, haven't the Orbiters sent you here to make a difference and improve life on El Nysa in their stead?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah, and that cluster of nerves says I have a roof over my head, booze, and all the ass I can kick in Wyver. For now, it's the lesser of two evils. I'm not Bear Grylls. You might be all gung-ho to go filter and drink your own piss, but I'd rather not.

Besides, why don't you go off and build a goddamn castle or something. Be king of the power rangers.

So you ain't willing to give up the little you have. Just admit it and move on.

[He snorted at her come back, raising an eyebrow at her.] Because I'm not the one bitching about the state of the union here and touting that we need a new settlement. If that was my plan, I'd be doing it.

It's not my plan, you dick-goblin. It's a suggestion. One anyone can take and ride with. Hell, I hope they all do. Fifty different little villages popping up would be better than this East meets West bullshit.

[She knew he was needling at her, but functions like this always had her on edge. It reminded her too much of Trish's mom rubbing how much she didn't belong in her face. 'Look at the little grungy stray we picked up and rescued. Even after a bath, she's still trash.'

God, she hated that woman.]

Then I hope you put in the suggestion box for people to vote on, Jones. Maybe someone will run with it.

[He certainly had no plans to, not yet anyway. He was better off in a crowd watching his own back. He had people here who hated him, and so being able to disappear was easier for him.]

[And wasn't it just funny that she wasn't on that list of people that wanted him dead or broken.]

Maybe you should kiss my ass.

I would, but we're currently in public.

[Just for that, he likely would in future make a show of kissing her ass in all the literal sense of the phrase.]

Anyone ever tell you you're a real prick?

I think that's one of the reasons you hang out with me.

[He grinned at her.]

But to answer the question: yes, all the time.

No, I hang out with you because you're a good fuck and you don't expect sunshine and eye flutters.

[She sipped her new beer, not feeling like she'd won that exchange at all.]

Oh, is that all? Our relationship has spiked since all the threats to rip me apart and tear my dick off. I must have some value to some parts of my anatomy.

[He didn't think she'd won that exchange either, but he wasn't about to gloat either. That they agreed to that point was enough for him.]

I still might. You never know. Some of this weird planet shit could happen mid-fuck and I could just walk away with your dick in me. Who knows?

[That earned him a smile, Jessica enjoying the ribbing of his male anatomy a little too much.]

[He stared at her, his eyebrows heading towards his hairline and then could only shake his head. Good god, she had quite the imagination.]

Would you take my severed dick as a marriage proposal, or are we still looking at dragon cock?

[She rolled her eyes at him, chugging back her drink and shaking her head.]

Okay, we get it. Haha, marriage proposals are funny. You about done beating that dead horse yet?

[He smirked at her.]

Not until you accept mine.

[There was nothing in his tone to affirm whether he was being serious or just taking the joke further and further because it would annoy her more.]

[Whatever his actual intent was, Jessica had already decided early on that he was just pulling her leg because it annoyed her. She finished her drink and reached for another.]

Not happening. Maybe you should go find yourself another prospective wifey to make you miserable, if that's what you're looking for. I'm sure this place is loaded with bitchy assholes that would make you cream your pants.

[He chuckled, letting them move completely off topic to one they seemed to banter about way too much. He knew she had some kind of beau somewhere, though the who and the where wasn't actually known. She kept her private life strictly private, and he respected that when it suited him too. That didn't mean he couldn't tease her.]

Nah, I already have my sights set, and I'm too dumb and stubborn to deviate for a good long while.

[Things with Clark and her had gotten decidedly more... complicated lately, and it was part of why she seemed a little saltier than usual. But that wasn't something she was going to share with Brock, since the situation was none of his damn business. She turned to look at the rest of the gathering, wondering if anything was actually going to get accomplished here.]

No, you're not. But you sure as shit want me to think you are.

[Rumlow liked to think he was a good more or less non-judgmental ear to listen, since she had bitched at him previously. He didn't always share his own story of course. Why would he? But if she wanted to talk, he'd listen and not actually hold any of the information hostage either.]

What? You don't believe me? I'm hurt.

No, you're not.

[That was part of what helped her keep her distance. He'd listen, and she had a feeling he'd even keep his mouth shut and hear her out if she wanted to talk, but she wasn't going to get anything in return. It would be all one-sided, and if she wanted that, she'd go back into therapy.]

I might be a little?

[He wasn't. He had thicker skin than that. He liked to consider that they were friends with benefits. In his mind, that's exactly what they were. She was actually one of the few people he might call on in a time of need.]

You do realize nothings coming out of this night, right? Leaders will say we had good discussions and it's just a start but hey, look we're doing something so feel safe.

So it's pretty much just like every political 'get together' back home? The big wigs chit chat about nothing and they're not the ones that have to suffer. 'Oh look, we got to dress up and look pretty for charity. We did so much'.

Sure they did.

That's pretty much how I expect this to go, yeah. Hence why one has to dress up pretty to make a real push for them to get off their asses.

[He nudged her with an elbow all the same.]

At least there is free food and drinks, yeah? Oh, and you're a hero. How does that make you feel?

[She rolled her eyes at that and finished her beer, reaching for another almost instantly.]

No, I'm a surviving victim. They just slapped 'hero' on top to try to make people forget they'd been tortured. You're not a hero for surviving shit.

[Trust her on this, Brock. She knew what was up.]

[Rumlow knew that logic well. When he returned from oversea beat to hell and barely holding it together, he had been called a hero, given a medal and praised for his valor. He had been nothing more than a survivor in a bad situation.]

What are you supposed to be called for surviving that kind of shit?

A New York cockroach.

[A grin as she sipped at her drink.]

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Oh, shit. I didn't realize I had a tag waiting. >|

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