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| A Moff in Ireland | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 19 2011, 01:31 AM (337 Views) | |
| Sedulius | Feb 19 2011, 01:31 AM Post #1 |
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Field Marshal
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When Moff Pellaeon landed in Dublin, a small crowd of Irish had turned out to welcome him, mostly because they saw him from the Authority's broadcast and were curious about his nature. Three men had come to greet him. One was a young man in a black suit. The others seemed to be his bodyguards. They were armed with halberds, and wore what seemed to be full plate armor, though the mechanical modifications were obvious, and the rest of their garb consisted of elaborately woven red and white cloth, with the emblem of the Red Hand of Ulster on the upper-right part of their chests. Pellaeon may have recognized this as the symbol of the current ruler, High King Aodh O'Neill. However, he may not have realized it was also the symbol of that Brotherhood born in Ulster associated with the O'Siadhail and their dynasty. If the Authority was not familiar with the Brotherhood, they would be soon. The young man was polite towards Moff Pellaeon. His name was Karl, though that was all he would say. The pair stepped into a limousine without the "guards", and were soon on their way to Tara. In a short while, the Moff saw massive fortifications, similar to those of their star forts, but vastly extensive and highly modernized. It was an odd blend of Celtic architecture and modern military fortification, private homes and barracks, armories and gardens. Soon they were at the palace, which was oddly less magnificent than the rest of the fortifications, being a simple stone keep in the middle of it all. As he got out of the limo, Pellaeon could see dozens more of the "guards" he had seen earlier, and he was sure he would see them as a common presence throughout his trip. There was something unnerving about this presence, but it would have to be tolerated. As Moff Pellaeon and Karl entered the palace, Pellaeon could see it had a surprising interior given its exterior, being a vast great hall of the finest woodwork and stonework with all the banners of Ireland hanging within it, being perfect for feasting, dancing, or receiving any audience. As they entered, the High King rose from his throne to greet his guests as he usually did. "Greetings, Moff Pellaeon! I am glad to see you have arrived safe and sound!" The High King turned also to young Karl. "And Order Marshal Fleischmann! I was not expected to see you here! How are you?!" "Well, your Majesty. I am here on Grandmaster Siadhal's orders." "Ah, I can see he is taking this matter seriously..." There was an awkward silence. "You'll have to forgive my friends..." Aodh looked about the room, "you never can be too careful." He smiled and laughed. "So, Moff Pellaeon! You're here on my invitation, so I am sure you are wondering exactly why I would show you hospitality when the rest of Europe mostly threw insults. The truth is, I would like to know more about this Authority of yours, and see if, unlike everyone else, we can be friends of each other." |
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| The Authority of the Grand Moff | Feb 19 2011, 12:42 PM Post #2 |
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2nd Lieutenant
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Pellaeon had never been to the British Isles before. He was immediately charmed by their subtle beauty: the gray sky stretching for infinity over rolling green and turning distant mountains shades of blue. Then there was the pomp and circumstance of the Irish themselves: thei elaborate dress of the High King's bodyguards, the impressive Celtic fortress-city of Tara. Their reaction, too, was pleasing--especially given Europe's current ambiguity about the Moffs. When he had stepped off from his plane, dressed in his gray tunic and cap, the crowd--small, but impressive enough--recognized him instantly, with a few scattered cheers, but mostly a hubbub of murmurs. Then he had removed his cap with his right hand and waved it with a bit of a flourish, and the crowd cheered with renewed vigor. As he walked down to meet the entourage of the High King, two black-armored Legionnaires had silently followed him off the plane. His bodyguards, in principle they should have departed the plane first of course but Pellaeon had decided to emerge first, nominally unprotected, as a sign of peace. Their appearance caused a bit of a hush to once more fall on the crowd--hands pointed at the small rifles that were on their bandoliers--but then the mood turned to sheer curiosity at these strange-looking figures. Pellaeon noted with some interest how the High King's envoy--who introduced himself as "Karl"--was dressed only in a suit instead of some form of ceremonial garb. Admittedly it was a very expensive suit, but internally Pellaeon considered the "clash" between the dress of Karl and his bodyguards. Pellaeon mentally filed it away under "Interesting". I wonder what the High King will be wearing.... What intelligence he had been able to gather so far about the Irish had been limited, but interesting. In many ways it seemed little different from Old England--but it had apparently come about in some sort of revolution, in which the High King had had a significant role. Pellaeon pondered the deeper meaning of this: What had the revolution been against? What was the High King's background? What were his motives? After Karl and Pellaeon exchanged pleasantries, they began walking towards a limousine, while Karl's guards moved to a car behind it. The Legionnaires automatically began to follow Pellaeon, but Pellaeon brushed them off with a subtle shake of his head before returning to his conversation with Karl, and they joined the Irish guards instead. * * * "The Authority is The Grand Moff. The Grand Moff is The Authority. What The Grand Moff Wills, shall Be," Pellaeon began. He was now standing in an impressive Great Hall, before the High King and Karl. His Legionnaires hovered silently in the background, standing perfectly still, their rifles still at rest--but constantly observing for signs of treachery. Not that Pellaeon expected any. "The Grand Moff guides us. We, the Council of Moffs, serve as Governors of the Sectors of our country. As a Moff, my responsibilities to my people are the same as your responsibilities to your people, Your Majesty: I provide them with safety, security, and stability. In return, our Citizens provide us with loyalty." So.... Mr. Karl is really Sir Karl... some form of Knight... at least, judging from the title. And he is subordinate to a "Grandmaster Siadhal"--what is his significance? What powers does he have? What interest does he have here? What is his relation to the High King? Why does the High King of Ireland meet me himself, but not the Grandmaster? "We believe that when a society is ordered, when it is unconcerned with its own structuring, that it will then achieve greatness. Our Citizens are free to concentrate on pursuing whatever they will. We do not watch over their shoulders as an overbearing nuisance. We are not concerned with the regulation of Society--only the maintenance of it." This High King is young and acts younger... and yet... he made himself what he is now. He's smart... and he's smarter than he lets on... and that makes him clever. A clever man is dangerous... but valuable. "Our Sectors are home to countless commercial and industrial enterprises which are free to pursue an infinity of possibilities and therefore further the cause of Mankind, Your Majesty. From the latest military hardware to cutting-edge technology research, we believe the Fountain of Knowledge is ever-flowing and inexhaustible." All the while the two Legionnaires had been standing in silence, but their minds were constantly evaluating every millimeter of the scene before them. Pellaeon hoped their presence would be taken as a diplomatic quid pro quo, not an insult. He had to admit to a slight sense of unease at the sheer quantity of these elaborately dressed "guards" which seemed to be milling about the palace like children on a playground. Interesting at not only how many they are, but at their formality as well... Is it a show of force? Is it out of fear? How capable are they, really? They are so numerous that they could perhaps be more symbolic than individually capable... or perhaps they in fact know how to wield those halberds.... "Your Majesty, we, too, hope that we can be friends of each other. The Grand Moff is not interested in forming enemies, and, if I may say so, I do not believe you are either, Majesty." Having concluded, Pellaeon gave a smile, and waited for the High King's response. ((I hope you don't mind the sort of post-facto bit with my bodyguard's there... it's just a formality; the Moffs wouldn't go anywhere without protection. Also, as an aside: I've intended the star forts of the Moffs to be interpreted as modern fortifications, not like 19th century vintage; similar to Tara I would guess: a modern rehashing of an old concept)) Edited by The Authority of the Grand Moff, Feb 19 2011, 12:45 PM.
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| Sedulius | Feb 26 2011, 05:03 PM Post #3 |
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Field Marshal
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The High King smiled broadly, "A touch odd, Moff Pellaeon, but I like your style. Seems to me that your government is nothing more than a governing council to guide your country, and I honestly do not see anything wrong with that. Ireland is part of the League of Free Nations (LFN), which has a system much like you describe, though its authority does not supersede national rule. Hmm. I would say we perhaps differ on matter of economics, though your policy is no different than many nations that are free. Ha... call themselves free, that is. "In any case, I have no problem with you, your Moffs, or your Grand Moff. If you would give Ireland free trade, it will do so for you as well, though understand that we do not let corporations do whatever they wish in Ireland. But for the time being, let us dine, and then retire for the night. Let discuss these things tomorrow, after a certain... celebration." A large banquet soon took place in the hall, where High King, diplomat, noble, and commoner alike took part in. Meats cooked in dozens of ways, potatoes prepared in dozens of ways, corn-on-the-cob, fruits, vegetables, endless amounts of cheeses and breads, and a constant flow of wine and whiskey were upon the tables. It seemed as if a party, yet something was dignified about it. The next day, an even greater celebration would apparently be held. |
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| Sedulius | Apr 1 2011, 02:48 AM Post #4 |
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Field Marshal
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The next morning the High King, now Emperor, met Moff Pellaeon in his court, though only he himself and the Grandmaster Siadhal were there. "So, Moff Pellaeon, what do you think of the new order in Ireland?" |
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| The Authority of the Grand Moff | Apr 2 2011, 02:18 PM Post #5 |
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2nd Lieutenant
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((Well, technically I just severed relations... ahh, let's consider this as taking place before that.)) "New order", he calls it. But there is only The New Order. "What do I think?!" barked Pellaeon with such vigor that the new-found Emperor and his Grandmaster involuntarily stiffened. Then he issued a wry grin, visible below his bushy moustache. "If I'd any idea that you were about to become an Emperor, I would have at least brought you a cake." This response was so unexpected that the three men could not help but laugh heartily. For a longer while than might normally have been the case, they laughed at the joke; it served as a poultice to the festering tension which no doubt loomed in the new Empire, popular though the new Emperor might be. But then Pellaeon began again: "Imperial Majesty, I must confess that in a quite real sense, I could care less about your new regime"--just the slightest deliberate emphasis there, in place of "order"--"because neither I nor the Council nor The Authority have any interest in the political structuring of other Nations." This was not quite true, of course; the Moffs had their own opinions on the merits of different political bureacracies--but, ultimately, all were considered as flawed in the eyes of those of The New Order. Only The New Order was flawless. "However," continued Pellaeon--just the slightest deliberate hardness there, in view of what he was about to say--"understand, Imperial Majesty, that we do not look favorably upon oppression of Society. As of now, it seems, your rule appears legitimate, in that the People support it, and they did not support the previous institution of Parliament." Now the Moff's voice turned even harder, and his face turned to granite. Pellaeon might be affable, Pellaeon might be charming--and that might encourage a view of him as foppish and weak. This would be a dreadful mistake. "Know, however, that we will be carefully monitoring your new 'Empire', Imperial Majesty--very closely. We will not stand idly by if Tyranny rears its ugly head--although, Imperial Majesty, it appears that is not case... currently." One half of the Moff's face smiled. The other remained cast in granite. * * * Some time later....* "Moff Pellaeon, your presence is required at your transport." The Moff instantly recognized from the way the Legionnaire had issued this statement that this was no mere message from the Council. Decree. Pellaeon nodded curtly, and began making his way to the ORCT still parked outside the Emperor's palace, flanked on either side by a pair of ORCA's. A pair of Legionnaires rushed to the room he had been occupying during his stay and grabbed what few things remained--running a quick scan for any possible "bugs", of which they found none--before making their way outside. No one thought to stop the Moff, or his Legionnaires--why would they have, he was a guest of the Emperor after all--and if they were regarded at all it was only with curiosity. That would no doubt change, however, within just a few more minutes. As to why, Pellaeon discovered this when he reached the ORCT-- --and discovered what had just transpired. Pellaeon saw no need to explain himself to an Entity which did not exist; wordlessly, the three aircraft took off. The suddenness of this caught the Irish guards unaware; some scrambled hither and thither as if in anticipation of an attack, while others scolded them--"Och, idiot! If 'e was goin' t'threaten 'is Majesty, 'e 'ad soldiers inside 'is Palace!"--but mostly they just adopted quizzical looks and stared. Someone asked if they should scramble fighters. Someone else asked how stupid he was. Then word began to filter down that some big diplomatic something had just happened--but by this time, Moff Pellaeon was long gone from Ireland. OOC: *I'd like to hear back from the Emperor and Siadhal, of course, so consider whatever response you might have as happening before Pellaeon leaves. |
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| Sedulius | Apr 2 2011, 03:23 PM Post #6 |
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Field Marshal
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The Emperor spoke lightheartedly, "Rest assured, Moff Pellaeon, Ireland will be returned to its people when the time is right. Now is not that time." The Grandmaster was not so kind in his words, "And assure you that the we are watching you and all your activities, Moff, and that of your associates." Moff Pellaeon departed them with the Emperor sad to see him go, but the Grandmaster happy. |
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11:33 AM Jul 13