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Europa Union Bar


Nonmiom
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OOC:

Friends

 

I feel since we all have the unthankful task of running a country and taking part in endless international conferences it would be a good idea to have place where the region's leaders and diplomats could come and relax. The UN has a similar place called the United Nations Strangers Bar and I thought we would call ours the Europa Union Bar. If someone can think of a better name we can always change the thread name.

 

I imagine it to be a funky and stylish place with cream seating areas, mirrors on the walls and modern art paintings of various artists from around the region, serving drinks from all the region's nations. It would also be nice to have a character that visits the bar, perhaps a Foreign Affairs Minister or anyone you wish to represent your nation, but that is completely your choice. In addition to hopefully being a fun place it would also encourage members to the board being a convenient place for them to get to know nations. I hope everyone thinks is good idea and will join me in the fun.

 

IC:

Tri?lial Gerior entered the bar full of expectation. She was quite taken aback by the wealth of art around the place and promptly sought a work called ?In darkness is light? by one of her favourite artists. Looking at the painting her mind started wonder, ?How did I manage it?? she asked herself. Tri was appointed to the position of Foreign Affairs Minister only a few days ago. She never imagined she would even be elected, let alone become a Minister.

 

Tired after the long flight Tri decided to order a drink and looking at the vast array on display enquired ?Hi, erm, what do you recommend?? from the barman. ?Ma?am it all depends on your mood, but it seems to me you need a little ?pick me up?? and poured a slightly purple liquid in her glass. Tri viewed the liquid with suspicion and wondered which one of the regions nations it came from, hoping she will still be conscious when someone explains. Looking around she decided to find herself a seat with a good view to the door. Partly because she wanted to meet the other delegates, but mostly to make a run for it, should she feel the need to.

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Keo Psanastume, one of the seven members of the High Council of Culende, entered the Bar. He was a bit weary after an exhaustive discussion about social welfare and he was jetlagged, because his home country is on the opposite half of Europa. He looked around. Oh, what a cosy place! But why is it so empty here, only one lady is sitting here... She also seems to be a bit weary

 

He approaches the table where the lady is sitting. He speaks to her: "Greetings! May I sit down here?"

 

The lady nods, and Keo takes place. He continues speaking: "You are drinking Culendean 'Psor?byera'? It's from my home country, but... most foreigners find it too er... aromatic, too hot, but I'm pleased that our national drink is so popular even outside Culende."

 

"Where are you from?"

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Tri was was trying her best to find her breath and look civil to the Culendean, having just taken a sip of what she now understood to be, Culendean Psorabyera. She could feel her eyes filling with tears and not wanting to appear rude grabbed a handkerchief, pretending to have a cold. Unfortunately this was not as easy as she had initially thought due to a burning sensation that now began to rush from her stomach to her head like a volcano about to erupt.

 

?I?m going to have words with that barman!? she thought to herself realising that no amount of pretence was going to help her out of this predicament, her mind in complete overdrive hoping to find a solution which would leave her with some modicum of dignity. ?Water please!? she finally asks her newly met colleague, deciding that throwing one self on the mercy of others was by far preferable, than looking like a bull before a bull fight.

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Keo looked at the lady with a glance of amusement about her reaction, but when she asked him for some water, he went quickly to the bar and bought a glass of it. He sat down again and said, passing the water to her: "This is our national drink. I actually don't know what it consist of, but some people believe that it can evoke visions. You might see angels or something like this when you empty the glass quickly enough... If it is OK, I'd pay the water, if you gave me the Psoraby?ra."

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Tallanor Alman, a counsellor within the staff of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Blue Oceania, steps into the bar, stops, looks around with a shy and unsure glance in his eyes. One hand still holding his member ID card in his pocket which appeared to him like an VIP pass to all the long forbidden places in the Europa Union organisation, the other hand unconciously controlling his necktie. He was still new in this "high society" of head of states and ministers from all around Europe, and still trying to figure out his own place in this complicated network of affairs and liasons and policies.

 

After all... he just had a minor position following the Minister on his conferences and so he finally chose a table in corner of the room, with a good view on the rest of the tables, and carefully sat down on the expensive looking cream coloured seat. No red wine today, couldn't pay the cleaning of such a seat he murmured to himself uncomfortably. He had met quite a lot of important people today when following his Minister, and he couldn't forget the cute lady from the Empire of Orioni he had lunch together with. If she would come here tonight, too?

 

Looking at the variety of possible cocktails and drinks he finally decided to leave this decision to the good taste of his neighbours. To the barman: Would you give me the same slightly purple drink that couple enjoys over there.

 

He neither realized the amusement in the eyes of the barman nor the warning glance in the eyes of the lady.

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Prime Minister Max Ximus entered the bar. He was noticeable pleasantly surprised by the tasteful decorated room. "I like what they've done to the place", he said to one of his attach?s. "You know, this use to be storage room. Who ever would have thought.."

 

He looked around again, and saw he wasn't alone. He noticed someone he already had seen earlier today. Wasn't he part of the staff of Blue Oceania.. Max was so sunken into thoughts he barely noticed the barman asked him what he would like to drink. "Hmm, I think I'll have a coffee.. " he mumbled. Now, what was his name again, yeah, Tallanor, Tallanor Alman.. that bright youngman.

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Tallanor should never forget the first gulp of this mysterious purple liquid. He wasn't as clever to just sip and taste before drinking, and immediately turned to a dragon, ready to burst fire on the creamy inventory of the bar - was it cream-coloured? - suddenly it seemed to turn from a fine violet into dark cyan and glooming orange, before his vision became blurred by tears. Gasping for breath he tried to keep a rest of control not to make himself a fool within the first five minutes since he entered the bar.

 

Too late. Are you allright? he heard the ladies voice from the other table. It's a Psoraby?ra, it's kind of Culendes national drink, and it's hot. Especially when you are not used to it. Be careful. she added with a smile, before she paid attention again to her friend (Tallanor still didn't figure out where he saw that man before, but due to his fine robe and the fact that he was also enjoying this Culendean national drink he guessed it might even be a member of the High Council himself). Tallanor managed a nod and turned red due to the sudden heat evolving from his stomach as well as to the embarassement he felt that moment, which increased when the man from Culende turned his head round as well, and Tallanor realized that it was really a member of the High Council.

 

Luckily... in this moment the door of the bar opened again and Prime Minister Max Ximus entered. Tallanor wiped the rest of the tears out of his eyes and jumped on his feet for a deep bow. Prime Minister Ximus, I am very fond of your coming and wish you a pleasant evening. he respectfully added when their eyes met. Tallanor had seen Max during a meeting that day, and good relations between Blue Oceania and the Europa Empire had a long tradition. However... he didn't expect the Prime Minister to remember him as a member of Blue Oceania's staff and he felt rather nervous when he realized that he seemed to be the "only" representative of Blue Oceania that evening, among some of the most important politicians and rulers within the borders of the growing Europa region.

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?Thank you and please, feel free to have the Psoraby?ra.? she replied, looking for the barman that served her the drink. ?I must apologise, it is the first time I?ve tried this beverage and I must admit the barman was right. I?m quite awake now? she said smiling at Keo. ?To answer your earlier question, I?m from The Colony of Nonmiom, we are constitutional territory of of The Kingdom of Telidia. I wrote a short introduction and background to the colony on joining, should you want to review it.? she stated. ?As for myself, I?ve only just been elected to the Office of Minister for Foreign Affairs and all this is quite new to me. Especially the beverages? she laughed not afraid to mock herself a little.

 

Looking round Tri noticed that two other delegates have entered the bar and asked Keo ?I?ve noticed some more of our colleagues have arrived, shall we mingle?? trying not cough at the last part of the sentence, still feeling the effects of the Psorabyera and thankful the effects have begun to subside. ?Hello, my name is Tri?lial Gerior, Foreign Minister for The Colony of Nonmiom and this is Keo Psanastume from The High Council of Culende. How do you do?? she asked the gentlemen from Blue Oceania and noticing the same purple liquid in his glass. ?Unless you have tried that before, I suggest you be very careful. Isn?t that right Keo? I may call you Keo?? smiling broadly at both delegates.

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"Greetings! The green Culendean dragon may bless you", said Keo when he was introduced to the two delegates, repeating a traditional blessing. He looked at them with interest. The elder one seems to be high in honours, according to the dignity of his movements, and the younger one? Apparently he looks as if he feels a bit uncomfortable? Is it because he?s only a minister?s attendant, or? No, he?s tried Psoraby?ra!

Thinking this, another short flicker of amusement appeared in his eyes.

Then he turned again to Tri, now genuinely smiling: ?Of course, you may call me Keo, Tyiyah.? ? Apparently he had some problem to pronounce her name, and for a moment he felt a bit embarrassed, and his eyes could not veil this, because he was surprised about this sudden emotion ? being one of the members of the High Council, he was used to master any situation with dignity and austerity.

Then he took a draught of his drink, he closed for a second the eyes (although they were closed, they revealed some kind of a second of rapture while he swallowed the Psoraby?ra) ? then he opened his eyes again, and wearing an a bit more formal smile, he said: ?I think we had a long day, especially this religion debate. I don?t know if anybody attended it, but somebody wanted to outlaw our traditional animal sacrifices? It was annoying, but I think we have got enough of this. Shall we order something to eat??

Turning to Tri, he added: ?I?d be quite interested to try a Nonmioman meal??

 

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?What an excellent idea Keo? Tri replied not giving away her amusement at the Culendean?s mispronunciation of her name. ?Perhaps it would be a good idea for everyone here to have a meal together and give us all the opportunity to get to know each other and perhaps sample titbits from our respective nations?? looking round at the respective representatives from Europa. ?For myself and to indulge Keo?s request, would like to suggest Geromion pate, on a wild Krioker salad with a touch of lemon zest and brilirac vinegar."

 

?It?s a good all round starter? she stated with obvious pride. ?Any other takers for a choice of cuisine and if Keo don?t mind since his nation seem to produce rather interesting beverages perhaps something for us all to drink??

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A bizzare person walks into the lounge area he is dressed in a very stylish clothing. a nice dark blue shiney shimmery shirt with a white tie and a whool tailored jacket and trousers jet black with matching wasit coat a white pocket sqaure sits in his suit jacket breast pocket. his hair is styled in a spiky fashion its light brown in colour that shimmers and shines when the light hits it in a certain way he looks in his late 20's. and he is average height and has very handsome dramatic facial features with a stuble goatee. He looks extreamly well and healthy.

 

while he walks in he is swearing and screaming in the langage of german. Everyone looks shocked and suprised and wonder who this guy is disturbing the pece.

 

Secuirty are looking very weary of this guy - untill they see his pass that he took out of his inside pocket to get out his PDA.

 

He looks down at his PDA and then starts screaming again. He walks over to the bar and this time people notice he is on his cell phone obviosuly chatting to his secerty. the conversation consists of his secutry being a complete moron and mis guiding his appointments making him missing some.

 

He slams his phone down on the bar top and puts his PDA away and orders a double scotch with water and some ice he takes out his ciggerettes and lights one while closing his eyes and controling his breathing.

 

he quickly looks around and notices everyone trying not to look at him - he looks at his watch and just waits... realising what an impression to make...

 

 

Christoph Emmerich

Der Deutscher Bund

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  • 1 month later...

There was a slight marijuana smell mixed with cigar smoke that filled the air in the bar. As everyone began to take notice they see a tall and rough looking man walk into the bar. He had on an expensive tailor made Italian suit that was all white except for his light blue tie and blue and white athletic shoes. The smell radiating from this man became much stronger as he made his way to the bar.

 

He walks up to the bartender, "Look, im not from around these parts and need a drink." He tells the bartender. "Crown and coke if you got it, if not a fifth of Hennessey will do."

 

He takes off his coat and sits down at the bar only to take notice that everyone is now staring at his black and chrome custom made .44's. Did I not see the 'no firearms' sign? he thinks to himself. He starts to stare back and notices the few ladies in the room rather quickly, he smiles to himself and pulls out what everyone hopes is just a cigar. He then picks up his coat in search of a lighter and realizes he does not have one. He then notices an angry German sitting near by smoking and sees an attractive lady with a book of matches on the table next to her. Being more of a thug than a ladies man he decides to ask the German for a light. All he wants to do is forget about his past, whatever that may be.

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The door swung open, and in walked a man who did not quite fit the general description of 'dictator.' Rather, he was straight, tall, and arrow-thin, this making himself seem even taller. His sharply etched features seemed to be carvings on a statue, instead of the usual softness of human beings. We was wearing a priests' outfit, and his shoulder-length brown hair was brushed carefully back. His severe brown eyes roamed the room, taking in the sights.

 

He then walked over to the bar and took a seat at the end. Motioning over the bartender, he spoke quickly, elegantly, and dryly.

 

"A gin-and-prune juice, if you please." Jeremiah Stapp, supreme dictator of Solonsus, said.

 

The bartender nodded. "Right away."

 

Jeremiah bent forwards over the bar and clasped his hands in front of his face, paying no attention to the other people talking.

 

The bartender returned in about a minute with Jeremiah's drink. "Here you go, sir." Jeremiah let slip the smallest of smiles, and then took a sip of the drink, and seemed to relax.

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The door opens, and in comes a tall (about 2,05m), big-boned (not fat!) man. It's Jean-Jacques Wemba, Brawandians president. As he came inside, while carefully observing the bar, he took of his stylish sunglasses. He decided to take a seat at the bar, from where he could see the entire bar. Yep, a nice place... why haven't I discovered it before... I must have past by it a thousand times.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Footsteps are heard outside and a mans voice saying,

'Hanz, Fredrik, wait outside, i do not think there ill be any need for bodyguards in here'

 

As the door opened the current occupents of the bar could see the man they had just heard, he was a Tall man, about 6'2, with dark hair and a hint of a thinish beard growing on his chin. He was Phil Sart'Du, Crown Prince of the kingdom of Phill IV. Dressed in traditional fare, with the brightly coloured shirt hiding the thin, but traditional brestplate(and since metal breastplates are useless against bullets, he was also wearing kevlar underneath...), and of course, the traditional dueling foil at his side.

 

Prince Phil looked around at the other eight people already in the bar, four of them appeared to be sitting at a table awaiting somthing to eat, the other four were all sitting at the bar, one ws sitting looking very angry, and fept glancing down at his phone, the next was smoking somthing that smelled rather potent, another man seemed to be deep in depression, with his head in his hands over a drink, the final man was, well, big, he didn't seem to be drinking, but was watching the rest of the bar very intently, as if waiting for somthing...

 

The Kingdom of Phil IV was new in the reigion, so the Prince wasn't sure whether they would have their national fare yet, as it had said on the sign over the door, but he was plesently suprised when he saw the Firmanda on the board behind the bar, he had hated his national beverage since his childhood when his father made him down a glass of it on his 10th birthday, but he supposed he had to keep up apperences on his first visit to the bar.

 

As he sat there,at his own table, drinking the bitter liquid, he looked around the bar, now, which Europan representative should he talk to first? Which one to approch...

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The tramp of marching feet can be heard approaching the door. A General is seen opening the door. He then bows his head as a massive man walks into the bar. 6'8", 250 pounds, this must be the Grand Marshal himself. He walks confidently to the bar, after sizing up the other members of the bar. "Root Beer, barkeep," says the deep voice that accompanies this giant, "Collin's."

 

Waving his hand dismissively over his shoulder, he downs the root beer. "Another, good sir," he says as the general and the rest of his staff file quickly out the door into the hall. Turning around, the Marshal glances slowly at his companions. "Elen silla lumen, gentlemen. A star shines on the hour of our meeting."

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*a man of small stature, yet carrying a curious aura of familiarity steps inside of the bar, dressed in desert BDUs (imagine crossing early SA, yes I meant SA, not SS, Nazi Stormtrooper uniforms with Iraq's Republican Guard) and aviator sunglasses with a black beret, an Israeli flag with a red stripe crossing from the top-left to the lower-right embroided over the 'heart' of his vest, and a single medal denoting participation in the "People's Holy Uprising in the Holy City of Jerusalem" alongside.* Greetings to my fellow national leaders of Europa. I am...pleased to make your acquaintances, if you will extend such a courtesy to me.

*he stands proud, and, maybe, a little full of himself (he did just seize control of THE HOLY LAND. For those history buffs out there you know what I'm alluding to), awaiting the responses of these so-called 'rulers'.*

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