ATM II RPG

[Kath]

Igör had wandered off after being dismissed. He was still smarting a little from the comments made in the negotiation room but as he thought of them he recalled Skittles’ accidental relieving of the tension and couldn’t help but smile. He was glad she was involved in this, if anything would confuse and bewilder the Gondorians enough to persuade them to sort things out she would.

Speak of the devil, Igör thought to himself as he walked past Hyarmenwë’s quarters. Angawen’s guards were outside it, and Igör wondered just what she was so afraid of that she needed them to accompany her everywhere. He caught a small portion of their conversation as he walked past. Though his ears did not match, both had excellent hearing, and while he did not mean to eavesdrop it was sometimes simply impossible not to. Fortunate enough to be skilled in the Elven languages Igör understood their words, though he despaired at their formal tone. How did they ever get a point across when it had to be buried under layers of compliments, hastily backtracked insults and general wordiness? But, it seemed that there was dissention within the opposition’s ranks. Igör smiled to himself, making a mental note to inform Alli of this next time he saw her, though he thought it likely that she would already know. Her spy network was one of if not the best, and she was probably listening to this conversation as it occurred.

He continued on down the corridor with his awkward limp still in place, feeling the eyes of Angawen’s guards following him. His ears picked up their whispered conversation about how odd he looked and grinned. He didn’t mind the insults when he was putting his little act on. Suddenly though the guards stopped talking and there was a slight commotion behind him. Turning he saw various Gondorians entering the others rooms, with what sounded like a lot of anger and consternation. By the time he had thought up a reasonable excuse for walking back past the rooms again however (by removing an eye and rolling it down the corridor, to the disgust of the guards) there seemed to be agreement within. Troubled now, Igör decided to share his recent findings with Alli as soon as possible.

Returning to the negotiation room he knocked before entering, knowing his ability to move without noise sometimes gave people such a scare they were unable to do anything but gape like a fish for quite a long time after, which would probably not be helpful at this point in time, especially when there was already someone behaving as a tree in the room. Just as he thought this Skittles desisted from that activity and raced past his, yelling something about needing to change her clothes.

Leaving her to her madness Igör moved toward Alli, and motioned her to one side. Malfoidacil was still in the room and it would not be wise to let him know what the other Gondorians thought of him. Alli joined him over away from the others and listened to what Igör told her with an expression ever he couldn’t read. Finishing his story, Igör waited to hear whether this was useful information, and whether she wished him to do anything with or about it.

[Lhunardawen]

Maika was quite disappointed that Alli had to arrive and ruin all the fun. It was not a regular occurence to have fun with Gondorians - probably because this was the first time she ever met at least one - and she wanted to enjoy this icebreaker as much as she can. But looking at the Spymaster's face she could tell something was up. Yep, something was definitely up.

She patiently waited for Skittles, Ms. Martinet, and the young Gondorian to have their say in this new assignment, seemingly weighing their words with care. But as they talked and juggled knives and talked more and acted like a tree, Maika's thoughts were still on Hyarmenwë's three statements. Particularly on the "three daughters" part. For some unexplainable reason her heart raced when she heard that, and she tried to hide it through participation. And she got the lie right. Hmm. Maika instantly snapped back to the conversation around her.

As Skittles sped off for leather, Maika took her turn to respond to Alli. "I'm sure my skin will be reacting violently against this in no time, but I'll do it. At least I'll do what I can. For Mordor."

For Mordor? Somehow it didn't quite sound right to her. She shrugged it off.

"But one favor, please. Will you tell him to have his broken airconditioning system repaired?"

Maika had barely picked up Alli's response - if she had responded at all - when she raised a hand to excuse herself and walked towards a concerned-looking Igör. Maika sighed. For her sake, or her skin's rather, she hoped it could be done.

[Anguirel]

Dracomir had been irritated by Alli's obvious evasiveness on the identity of Lola, and was inwardly absolutely livid when the misshapen Igor took the Lady Spymaster aside to give her information in a manner which was quite obviously designed to exclude him. He was currently isolated from his fellow-diplomats, without being in the slightest particle trusted by Alli, despite all they had been through. He had hoped, apart from anything else, to have a friendly conversation catching up on events since Dol Gaurgauroth...

He knew, however, that the only hope of coming closer to success in his vital task was keeping his emotions untrackable, and so he smiled and cleared his mind, though not without a mental curse at Aunt Bellatrix-why couldn't she have taught him Legilimency as well as this Occlumency rubbish...?

Dracomir now found himself alone with the Mordorian diplomat Maika. Perhaps he could cultivate some kind of friendship here that would prove useful in the long term.

"You seem worried about your fair complexion in the presence of the boorish King Roggie," he sallied. "As you can see, I suffer from a similar problem. It's a clear sign of nobility of blood. I often find a Disillusionment Charm can help lessen the effect of exposure...would you allow me to help?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Alli had listened to Igör gleefully. Though negotiations were in a bit of a rut (she chastised herself for the understatement), she trusted in her people's abilities to restart them... at least eventually. And when they did, knowing that the Gondorian officials didn't like each other or trust each other... Ooh, she was excited. Igör had no idea and awaited a response to show through Alli's cool eyes, or at least for her dark red lips to slip softly into a deadly smile. Alli shot a glance at Malfoidacil, drawing his wand in the direction of Maika, before answering quickly in a soft tone revealing nothing.

"Igör, if you can find out more without them knowing it, feel free. Thank you for telling me this; it is helpful."

Dismissed, Igör left, presumably to roll a body part or two through the Gondorian suites.

Alli returned to Maika and Malfoidacil after a moment of thought. Skittles in leather... oh my. Lola was coming... that should be a treat. And dissention in the ranks... Alli couldn't help but wonder why Mardil had chosen these particular ambassadors, most especially Bearugard. Alli remembered him from before she was assigned... he was one of the worst nobles, she'd thought, with no care for the lives of those beneath him. Alli had spent her life quietly loathing monarchies for their continued oppression of the proletariat. Now she worked for one, yet she did not dislike it. Roggie's power structure cared nothing for nobility and though Gondorians might think it due to the distinct lack of nobility in most of Mordor (why, Alli had often wondered, were there so few? Surely the hadn't been immune from Anakronisms...), it was not. Before Roggie, Khamul had quietly run the country through the mafia; no nobles. Now Roggie had advisors specially chosen meritocratically, not for their blood.

"Malfoidacil, please refrain from casting spells upon my workers, no matter how clever you find your charm work to be. Maika, I will speak to Buildings and Grounds workers about it. More likely will be that we'll merely have to open a window. If you like, I have skin cream that works wonders, and it is not even from Panakeia."

Maika stared blankly at Alli over the joke, but her eyes brightened some around the edges, knowing well stories of last year's escape. She'd seen it all on reality television and knew that Panakeia once profited from the sales of really, truly bad makeup products.

"If you will please wait for Lola to arrive and for Skittles to return, Lola will surely guide you all to Roggie's audience chamber wherein he is currently lurking in a foul mood. He will refuse to see you... ignore him on my orders. Pound upon the door until it opens.

"Tom..." Malfoidacil looked up quickly. "If you have time later tonight... it has been a long time. Share stories over drinks? You'll be pleased to learn that I'm fresh out of veritaserum... We'll be stuck with fruit juice, I'm afraid. What say you?"

Without waiting for response, Alli grinned and left, shooting the words "I'll be in my office." over her right shoulder.

[Diamond18]

Skittles got sidetracked on her way to her quarters by a procession of large cats singing in six part harmony.

Not really.

She reached the room that had been provided to her upon her arrival at the Mount Doom Palace and Casino and threw open her trunk. She had to dig through several layers of silk and taffeta to reach the pleather and spandex, but dug right past those cheap imitations to get to the real thing at the bottom. She pulled out a black catsuit and smiled.

When she left her room, she was a different woman. Sort of. She was still ten feet away from sane, but instead of skipping or waltzing along, she lurked from corner to corner. Like a cat, only on two feet. Most of the time, anyway; sometimes she crawled, but only when she really felt like it.

She met a few hapless orcs along the way, whom she had to silence lest they talked. Talked to whom, about what, no one besides Skittles really knows, but she felt that this was of the utmost importance. A quick snick of the switchblade and they went down before even knowing what had sliced them.

She sidestepped a trail of fingers rolling down the hallway and reentered the negotiation room unseen and unheard by all. (In truth, everyone saw her, but no one really cared.)

Gliding like liquid oil, she sidled up to Dracomir and said in a low, menacing voice, “Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”

He turned slowly and looked at her as if she had sprouted an extra head, so she reached up to feel her neck and shoulders, just to make sure. Nope, she thought, somewhat disappointed. Still just the one.

[Anguirel]

Tom surveyed Skittles with an even, patronising gaze. He did, he admitted to himself, think the black leather rather more tasteful than the former hideously bright melange that the star of the Mordorian Foreign Office had preferred wearing before...now that Alli had left, he was strictly tempted to respond with "As a matter fact, yes" followed by a quick Full Body Bind Curse, but he rejected the plan for the moment as overcomplicating an already convoluted situation.

Time for a charm offensive.

"Why, Skittles, you look ravishing," he said. "Positively, ah, oakish. Doesn't she, Maika?" he added with a step back, only to find that Maika was no longer in the immediate vicinity. "Ah, well, take my word for it. My lady, if an oak tree had decided to take up a career in stealth, cunning and assassination, it would be...your very spitting image."

Another step back.

"So, um, Skittles, do you know anything about this Lola character who's going to be joining us?"

He kept his left hand clenched tightly in his robe's inside pocket, his wand ready to be out. Just in case. Smalltalk with this maiden could be quite tricky, and he really didn't like getting hurt.

[Diamond18]

Skittles felt an odd twinge, and blinked. Something nagging in the back of her head told her that she was angry as this incredibly pale boy standing next to her, but she couldn’t quite remember the reason. Did this have anything to do with the unfortunate breath mint incident? No, that had happened last month, and was taken care of...

She shook her head, and heard the end of Dracomir’s question.

“Yeah, I know her,” she said. “Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there at the Copa, Copacabana, the hottest spot north of Havana, where music and passion were always the fashion. Then she got into administrative assistance, and the rest, as they say, is historically inaccurate.”

Dracomir nodded, and made a noncommittal noise as if debating whether or not to believe what she was saying. Skittles wrinkled her forehead and said, “You are a very charming boy, but I think I came here to carve my initials onto your face. Can you do me a favor and remind me why?”