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

... What about me says 'infantile chubby tit sucker'?

[She gave him a level look. Go on, John. Dig that hole.]

[ Oh no.

It's happening.

He's too drunk for this.

This is why he's divorced, he can never say the right thing. Fetch the shovel -- ]

No! No, nothing! You're not a baby, c'mon. I mean a babe like you're hot but not an actual infant --

[ John stop. ]

[He looked like he was about to swallow his tongue and she had to laugh.]

Relax, buddy. You're not wearing the sneer of superiority that comes along with the phrase and you haven't looked at my tits once. I'd call that restraint.

[She sipped her drink, smirking, because flustering men was her jam.]

[ Okay.

Cool. Probably. He flicks a small, sardonic smile and takes a sip himself. ]

I had extensive aversion therapy to train it out of me. It's not lack of interest, I assure you.

What, you think I'm offended you're not ogling me?

[Watching him trip over himself was just fun, and considering she didn't really want to be here in the first place, she could use a little fun.]

[ This is impossible. ]

No...?

[ Then why does that sound like a question. ]

I was trying to pay you a compliment. It's this customary thing among my people, trying to be nice -- especially after the culling, it was a process we all went through. They rounded up all the men who wouldn't fall in line, gave us shock therapy until we learned how to follow instructions. The first few ones were simple -- sit, stay, shut up, keep your eyes up. The other ones were more complicated. House work, timekeeping, rigorous self-shaming at least once a week to keep the ego in check. I struggled with the last few. Never made it through all the advanced classes.

[Wait, what was that? Was Jessica hearing the song of her people? Sarcasm? She made a rude sounding snort, pouring her glass back to the full state and waggling the bottle at him.]

I would have stuck with the advanced classes. Your self-shame needs some work and I don't feel any lips on my ass.

I'm not allowed to touch women without explicit permission or the implant causes me to black out for twenty-four hours.

[ Obviously. ]

I like this world of yours. Too bad it got exploded. Or... decimated. Or whatever the storm does.

Yeah, that is too bad.

[ Can he not ineptly hit on you in peace, why are you making him feel emotions. He's drunk too much for emotions.

Now he's feeling them and it's confusing why are you doing this. ]

Can we get back to the bit where we drink and you keep rebuffing my attention while I pretend I'm interesting? It was better than dwelling on planetary destruction. I was hoping to black that part out.

Ah, the denial method of coping. I've tried that. Works best with more alcohol.

[She poured more into his glass as a semi-peace offering. Or maybe she just wanted to see how soon she could get him to fall on his ass.]

Denial is an officially approved Air Force tactic, introduced under the Clinton Administration. Works in a wide variety of situations.

[ He doesn't really remember if he actually mentioned that he specifically.. was? Is? In the Air Force. What's more important is Jessica refilling his glass, which which he is going to drink. ]

Pretty sure deniability has been a legal defense for a lot longer than someone spunking on someone's dress.

[ I mean. Yes, but -- ]

You could really make a career out of how efficiently you kill all my jokes.

Oh, those were the jokes?

[She barely, barely managed to keep from saying that she thought his face was the joke. Barely. The poor guy seemed crushed.

And here she was, trying not to laugh.]

[ Wow. Wooooow. Someone's feeling sassy. ]

You're not exactly a world class stand-up routine yourself, here.

[She woke up at half-sass every day. Her sass factor increased the more shit she had to deal with. This coalition had upped it to a nine.]

I'm not the one trying to be funny.

[ Oh, sorry, is this Mean Girls? He might need to adjust his settings to do Mean Girls. ]

Well I was trying to be friendly but I guess that's not allowed. Am I making you look bad by standing so close? I know I'm not in a suit, so.

[ Exaggerated shrug. ]

[Mean Girls can't handle Jessica Jones.]

You were flirting. Badly. You could be in an Armani or your birthday suit, doesn't matter to me.

[Another grin as she sipped her drink. He had a long tail to pull, apparently. She was just going to keep tugging it.]

[ Yikes. John gives a momentary incredulous side-eye before picking up his glass again. ]

Well I got the shut down message the first time loud and clear.

[In her semi-drunk stage, she could be generous.]

Don't take it personally. I have way too much dick in my life right now.

[ Typical. Still: ]

I'm already enough of a dick, not much room for more in my life either.

Tell you what, if I need a fresh dick, I know where to go.

[ Should he be flattered or insulted, John really has no idea at this point.

Still, he goes for his best faux-affronted face. ]

Jessica, I want you to understand there's more to me than just an extremely satisfying dick.

[ He downs his drink with a wince, then winced again as he feels the smoke bubble up. ]

I also make a pretty good punch bag by all accounts.

The capabilities of your dick being satisfying by any measure has yet to be determined, but I can pretty much already figure out that I wouldn't be able to use you as a punching bag. Sorry, buddy, but I'd break you.

[She held up the bottle, almost in apology as she refilled his glass.]

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