Nula, Yarın, Ev'saht

[St Oz]

Adara smiled, her purple eyes that possessed no pupil gazed at Aygen and she said to her in her language, "Aygen, welcome to our tribe, My name is Adara, I learned your language when I was younger so I might be limited. My brother told me of where you came. You indeed seem to come from the friendly provinces of Laen'ka. I am confirming something, what encountered at the cave is our Brutal neighbors to the west, the Moacians. I feared that they would cross the borders soon. Not even the mighty Xyraelis can separate them from us. Do you wish for some real clothing? I'll send one of the girls to go fetch you some, you will not survive with the clothes you bear, they do not breathe. Gaea has blessed you, Aygen. Though I can not see, I can hear her whispers. Your face is tattered and scarred but I also felt your spirit as well as your physical form. Your Spirit is strong and smooth. The process of bringing physical bodies for Gaea to fill spirit is soon. Gaea would be pleased if you gave her offspring."

[Mor'os]

Following the marriage of the Emperor and of the new Emperess, life in Mor'os seemed to have fallen into a slump. The most fantastic moment was passed, and the public psyche was that nothing in the near future or the distant future for that matter could possibly top this matter. Not even the birth of an heir, which everyone did await with some degree of obligatory expectation. But life had to go on, just as it always had, and the people continued to live regardless. For the government it was no different. The ministries and their staff dutifully shuffled their papers and performed their assigned mundane tasks. In the higher echelons of the government, business was also being conducted. But there was something distinctly more exciting about what was being discussed in the Prime Minister's office than the sum budget report of the Domlēn Region. Happenings were afoot across the continent, and they had caught the attention of the Empire.

His eyes staring out the window at nothing in particular, Lelpak Chasmor spoke. "Things seem to be approaching a critical point. If we are to act we have to do so now. Hesitation would undo anything we stand to gain." He had been watching the reports from the Foreign Ministry on the events in distant Xyrael with a keen interest. It was the first major continental matter which had arisen since he had been elected, and he did not intend to fumble it. In his mind the expansion and restoration of Mor'os to its former glory was paramount; the opportunity to weaken and eliminate one of the obstacles too that goal was not to be passed on.

"But we can't support any separatists in Xyrael!" was the urgent and anger tinged reply of Imperial Inspector Delmar Shausil. Quite clearly, he was not keen on whatever idea Chasmor had concocted. "Are you out of your mind? We've had enough troubles with Wa recently. We don't want to encourage them by fueling this sort of thing elsewhere. These people...they are not different than the Ratwagun. Base, common terrorists. We cannot afford to send a mixed message to Wa or to anyone."

Chasmor responded with a sincerely puzzled stare. Seeing it, Shausil immediately found himself feeling patronized. "Terrorist is a relative term. I'd have thought you of all people understood this. Xyrael's terrorists are our freedom fighters. If we can split Xyrael we stand to position the Empire as the new dominant political entity on the continent. This is a Heaven sent opportunity and we would be fools to let is slip between our fingers." He paused a moment before continuing. "Besides, it's not as if their situation is comparable to the Wa's. We treat them perfectly fine, just look at their Assembly."

Shausil inhaled in a frustrated manner. "Yes, that's all good and true if you really insist. But we can't risk some sort of outright war. The military has only been redeveloped so much. For now, we must bide our time and continue to build ourselves up so that we will be able to take full advantage of any future opportunities."

"Even given ten thousand years you would still say that. I have already told you, if we do no act now we will regret it. Direct confrontation is not necessary at all."

Going for broke, Shausil threw his hands wildly into the air. "Then what can we do? We don't have some sort of infinite well of money and arms we can send to these people. And even then, the Xyraelis would not be so stupid as to be unable to trace it back to the source."

"The right force in precisely the right place at the right time is all that is necessary." As Chasmor spoke, Shausil again was given the impression that he Prime Minsiter was looking down on him. "Matters stand at a perfect balance. All we have to do is give it the slightest nudge in the right direction...and that'll be it."

"This isn't like you at all Lelpak. Surely his Divinity wouldn't even consider this. You're not out to get yourself booted from the Shinchizung and Prime Minister's office are you?"

"Delmar, I've already spoken with his Divinity. And I would not be lying if I were to tell you that he's interested in my proposal." Prime Minster Chasmor allowed himself a smile as he pondered a certain ironic point. "I think that maybe you should be more worried about your job as Imperial Inspector is this is how you feel. His Divinity does not tolerate disobedience or any lack of discipline within the Shinchizung's ranks. Though, I assume you know that judging on your concerns for my own post."

Shausil looked down, defeated. If the Emperor was against his side and Chasmor was with him then there was little chance that he could change his mind. For the moment he would have to simply grin and bear it. How many times had this happened? Shausil was beginning to feel as if Chasmor and the Emperor did not consider his opinions valid anymore. Shausil contemplated a future in which he was doomed to grin and bear it perpetually. Chasmor meanwhile went straight on talking.

"In fact, we've already spoken with the BII. Unless they do something incredibly stupid we'll be seeing results shortly."

[Zimmerwald]

Aygen sat through Adara's speech in silence, biting her upper lip as she sometimes did when deep in thought.  She had no doubt in her mind that Adara was a person of consequense here, particularly given her admitted affinity with Gaea.  To displease her would be an act of suicide, to offend her would be worse.  Aygen hated to appear sycophantic or servile, but if that was required here, so be it.  "Adara," she began, "first let me thank you for, and accept, your offer of proper clothing.  I fear you are right about Moacian incursions on your territory; they could not have been Laen'kan or Ozian."  Here Aygen paused.  Adara might have been self-deprecating about her mastery of Gelibolu, but her speech on this next point had been clear and sure.  Aygen was confused as to her exact meaning, but she knew this much: do your utmost to please Gaea, in all situations, at all times, if you want to remain in the good graces of an Ozian.  "I thank Gaea for this blessing, and you for relating it to me.  I would do what Gaea demands of me," she said, keeping her words vague but committal.

[St Oz]

(OOC: if she knows some Ozian Culture she would know that Ceclastia is the day that a female ozian and a male ozian 'merge spirits' to produce life and then they have the month of Dieranotia in which the babies are born and Gaea's Spirit enters them.)

Adara smiled happily now and said to Strelok in Ozian, "Brother! You will merge spirits with Aygen on Ceclastia, Gaea has whispered!"

Strelok was confused, "But what of my desert flower?"

she replied to her brother, "If you deny this Gaea's fury will destroy the flower."

he bowed to her even though she was blind, "Yes Reverend Mother"

The others in the room calmed down from the excitement and continued to sharpen swords, eat zuavka, dance, or chat amongst themselves.

Adara then turned to her escort, "Please take me outside and once you do, don't come back until the fires have died down. Then once you do this get clothes for Aygen, take something of mine if you like."

[Myroria]

"I don't use a motorcade because I don't get myself worked up about assassination. If I die, I die. It's my time to go. I'd rather die a hero to the people than a miserable old man." Meneldur's phone rang. Over the woosh of air in his Mercedes convertable, he picked it up.

"Yeh-go. It did? And?"

"I'll be down as soon as possible." Meneldur told his chauffer to turn to Novrith.


"I feel like we're doing a drop-off. How spy movie is this?"

"Yeah, real spy movie. Except we're in olive drab instead of tailored suits, and we're dropping off a wheelbarrow full of G-36s and machine guns instead of fancy gadgets."

"Shut up, the both of you." said Erwin Vrotrith.

"We don't know if there's Myrorians in this waterfront property, and they could report back to Hanso or Quarrovth's overseas embassy. We don't want to attract attention to ourselves."

"And walking around in olive T-shirts and boat shorts, pushing a wheelbarrow full of weapons won't attract attention to ourselves?"

"I said shut up. We can only pray that they're not gonna search the ship when it gets home."

"Look! There's someone up ahead!"

"Get in the woods back there, the both of you. Hand me a pistol."


"Sire!" said a soldier, saluting to his Empeurer.

"At ease. So, what did you find? I didn't ride for three hours for nothing."

"Sire, nothing. That's exactly it. When it left port, it was full of money."

Meneldur's eyebrows raised. He would have said "call me Meneldur" - he couldn't stand all this formality - but he neglected it.

"Money? I didn't know they had money. Lower the gangplank."

"Lower the gangplank!" the soldier yelled to someone on board. It fell with a clack onto the dock. Meneldur emerged on deck a few minutes later.

"Take the captain in for questioning. It's not illegal to transport money, obviously, but when the money is in the hands of people willing to start revolutions, they could be a threat to international relations. This is all more than a bit weird." Meneldur got into his convertable. Erwin's worst fears had been confirmed.

[Mor'os]

Taking care not to wake his mother, father or sister, Lhouzhī Akta rose from his bed just as the morning sun's first rays were peeking across the horizon. The day for him to leave and head out had finally come. He had recieved his orders a mere three days previous. Even if time was of the essence as he had been told such a limited frame within which to prepare was unusual for the calculating Bureau of Imperial Intelligence. Odder still was the limited information with which he had been given to work with. It was not their fashion to embark on any mission without sufficient and thourough prepation, something which was lacking from what Lhouzhī could see. But he had been told what to do, and it was his duty to carry out his mission. Without hesitation he commenced and completed his ritualistic morning shower before moving to the kitchen to prepare himself a standard  breakfast of tea and porridge. As the water boiled on the stove he retrieved the newspaper, glad to discover that it was delivered so early in the morning.

Sitting at the table in the center of the compact kitchen and staring through the lens of his glasses he read the headlines. Nothing though jumped out from the pages and siezed his attention violently. He was reading not for the content but for the sake of some activity. His mind was elsewhere, still befuddled by the unusual circumstances of the assignment which he would be beginning in a matter of hours. For the first time he could recall he was finding that he was genuinely worried about what was to come.

"Brother, what's wrong? You're up very early." His worried showed on his brooding face, and had been easily sighted by his younger sister Azzhau. Lhouzhī looked up from the paper with a sound of shock as she walked into the kitchen. "If you'd left this water any longer it would have boiled over." she added as she braved a torrent of steam to remove the kettle from the stove.

"Oh," replied Lhouzhī, taking of his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit out of it. Like you said I don't usually get up this early. What are you doing up?"

"Today's the day you leave isn't it?" she said, now rummuging through the cupboards. Evidently she had usurped the task of making breakfast for the both of them. Lhouzhī didn't protest. "I might not see you for a while."

"Well, it's nice to know that someone's looking out for me," he said with a smile as he turned to the next page of the newspaper.

"Of course I'm looking out for you," replied his sister, now pouring the boiling water into a series of cups and bowls. "We're family, and it would be a sad day when I can't look out for my own brother." Underscoring her statement she placed a cup of tea and a bowl of recooked rice in front of her brother. Lhouzhī though did not say anything, instead beginning to sip the tea while Azzhau settled herself across the table from him.

"What time are you leaving?" she finally asked after tasting her own tea.

"I have to be at the station in an hour." The answer was terse, even Lhouzhī could feel it. But he could not think of anything else to say. Departures he had found were always awkward and difficult to navigate. Azzhau seemed to be of the same mind set, waiting a moment before talking again.

"May I see you off then?"

Lhouzhī put the paper down and looked up. "Of course you can. You don't have to be anywhere do you?" Azzhau shook her head.

"Not until later today."

"Then there shouldn't be any problems." Neither of them said anymore while they finished consuming what remained to be eaten. This only unsettled Lhouzhī further. His sister was usually a very talkative character. But she was also an employee of the Bureau of Imperial Intelligence as well he reminded himself. She was not naive and knew full well the risks of what he was about to step into. It was at times like this that Lhouzhī found himself puzzled at his sister's career choice. It seemed completely at odds with her hopeful and quirky character. Every other employee of the Bureau was stiff, practiced and formal.

When he had finally drained the last of his drink Lhouzhī stood up.

"Time to go."

[St Oz]

Ozian-Moacian Border

The moon was bright, the air was chilled, and the deserts were endless in point of view of Vendecci. Tired of this damned poverty he said to himself. He stood outside while his small and insignificant Parpaski clan huddled inside for warmth. He kept staring into the horizon of the deserts, watching the edge of every direction but the ones behind him. He examined the stars above him, numerous they were and he could see the other spirits who were Gaea's Brothers and Sisters. Sand started to pick up and he brushed his cloth off to get some sand off of it. The sand made a dust cloud around his face and he winced his eyes as they were touched by the dry sands. When he cleared his eyes, there was his mate, mother to two of his children. Both of his children were snots, even his mate was. However when he saw her he didn't know if she was bowing or falling. Obviously she was falling since her face went head first into the sands. behind her back were three gunshot wounds.

Vendecci swiftly leaped from his sitting position to run to the cave and warn the others, he heard various other pings on the outer walls and saw various ricochets. Once entered he clamored around the cave "Moaci! Moaci!"

He grabbed his rifle as did the other tribesmen and they took positions around the cave with some looking out
Posted on: October 11, 2007, 07:18:49 PMOzian-Moacian Border

In the entrance of the cave Vendecci saw the arm of his mate, the hand was settled on the sand motionless. He however had the disgrace of looking at her with his iron sights down his IA-7. Besides her hand he could see the wind blowing sand across the dunes and the moonlight reflecting upon them. All the fires were taken out so only natural moonlight was available. However there was a green glow coming towards. He motioned to others who were sitting next to him that something was coming. The woman next to him called out "Gaea!" in Moacian. A voice from there responded in Ozian, "the Light!"

Vendecci's heart sank, they really were Moacians, despite all the survival he has to put up with in living in the wastelands this was almost unbearable. The thought of his whole tribe wiped out had crossed his mind and just as he searched and searched for the coming enemy he thought what position would he come at, his anxiety almost overcame him and then he saw an arm stick out. He quickly pointed his rifle at it and shot it. The Moacian had dropped a device, spherical and it had a little trail of smoke coming from it. Then an explosion, light shrapnel cut his cheek, arm, and legs. He started to hear yelling outside and then another arm but he didn't have time to make the shot. It landed about 3m in front of him. The Elder Leader leaped onto the device and when the explosion came his body was torn up but he was still slightly alive. His mate rushed to him kissing him and others tried to pull her back. Vendecci was angered and whispered, "Everyone focus! Talia and Mare go out the second
entrance and flank them, I'll try and keep them focused on this position, Varo help keep some suppressive fire with me."

As soon as he said that, the 3 followed their orders and two of them exited and 1 of them stayed with Vendecci. The others stayed back and took cover from the chaos. Soon three Moacians with bright Green lighted goggles came in. The two surprised them and shot them all down before they could pull the trigger. The guns they had were much better than his and he picked it up. He heard of it before, it was the Iseltov SMG, he forgot the model but it looked new and the clip was long rectangular clip on the top of the gun. Another Moacian came in and when she sprayed the weapon he fell in love with the new weapon, Instantly 5 bullets surged through the Moacian. He stood up and Varo picked one up too. The Ozian proceeded outside where he saw the others. He signaled to them to come out of cover and fire. They provided a suppressive fire on the Moacian group as they tried to take cover behind various rocks. Then Vendecci rushed out gaining on the other flank and killing one Moacian after another with Varo.

When it was some stayed inside to take care of wounds but Vendecci however looked beyond the horizons with binoculars from the dead Moacians. He continued to loot some of the bodies and saw various documents especially one that said "Codename: Enlightenment" Inside it listed the group's orders to track down nomadic groups. He hurried back to cave where he met with various other tribe members and told of the danger.

"What do we do Vendecci?" asked Varo

Vendecci sighed, "I do not know, we need to alarm others though, but we must go the way of the rising sun, Now."

Various members started to clamor, "What of the wounded? Why are we leaving now didn't we kill them? Isn't it over? what if you're wrong why would they do that the Xyraelis wouldn't let them."

Vendecci shot his weapon into the ground. "Shush it! If the wounded can't move we have to kill them and release their spirits to Gaea, the Moacians are determined again as ever to kill us Ozians, we need to go deeper into Ozian territory, perhaps inform about this," he looked at his weapon which flashed Iseltov in the moonlight, "We need to find Iseltov."


Posted on: October 13, 2007, 02:02:33 PMAfter 5 days of trekking the deserts of Ozia, Vendecci was starting to grow impatient. His fellow tribesmen kept slowing him down by helping out the wounded as they only shot the most serious of injuries. Around him those who were wounded in the ambush almost a week ago were limping, getting sick, and only consuming more water than they should have been. When they climbed the mountain though, there was a beautiful sight to be seen. It was the sea, he and his followers watched aas the waves hit against the land. Though beautiful none of the water was drinkable but for many of them this was the first time they had ever seen sea. At the coast however was a small vessel. Vendecci proceeded with caution and 10 minutes later he and his envoy made it to shore. He tried to conceal his weapon but however they had already seen it.

He spoke to them in Ozian, "Good day!"

Men on the small vessel replied back in a strange accent, "What is it you want?"

Vendecci knew the worst, these were Xyraeli traders, "We got some wounded, do you have a doctor?"

"Why would we give medical assistance to you slums?"

Vendecci aimed the gun up and sprayed his weapon around their ship. A ricochet hit one in the leg and he started to cry for mercy to the light and many of his comrades started to call him a whimp.

"Assistance is coming!"

Before coming down from the ship, the doctor and the Captain started muttering with each other in Inglish so the Ozians would probably not understand, "Who the fuck gave them weapons? Get down there before they kill us all, remind me on our next voyage to bring some defense instead of our queer little pistols"

"Wait, why are you sending me alone. They'll cut me open just like in the movies!"

"I can't help them, you're the doctor, good luck!"

Then shoving him off the ramp he scurried back to is vessel. The doctor asked in Ozian "Heh, heh which ones are wounded?"
Posted on: October 14, 2007, 10:00:48 PMThe captain slammed his hat to the ground when the Doctor spoke to him, "What the fuck do you mean they want a ride!?"

"Well, they... I had no choice"

"Understood, but I can't smuggle those Ozians, we've already got too much to feed."

"Well they also told me they had enough food for 50 for one more week but I do not know... They only seem to have 15.."

"15!? We're already at our limit! I'm sorry but the answer is no!"

The captain then walked to the bow of the ship where the Ozians waited eagerly for the response and the captain simply said in Ozian "N..."

Before he finished the word he was cut off by 3 bullets to his chest, 4 Ozians boarded the ramps and pointed their weapons around. The 11 others walked onto the ramp and helped themselves to deck. Besides the Doctor they shot everyone else that was on deck but them ceased to kill everyone down below, instead they made them hostages. Vendecci yelled in Ozian "Surrender and we will spare, spare one bullet and there's despair!" Varo muttered to him "Poetic now?"

He ignored him and kept his gun on the entrance. Up came the 5 sailors with their hands up and Vendecci instructed them, "Take me to the capital. We need to visit someone."

Without hesitation these 5 prisoners bowed and set the ship on course to the Divine City.

[Zimmerwald]

OOC: Oz, I assume that the Aygen story is going to fast-forward a bit here?  Can we talk about it at some point?

Eastern Edirne District

Sabite had heard the tramp of the men's boots on the loose gravel, and some grinding, dragging noise that she assumed must be a wheel, but they remained hidden by darkness until they were only a few yards away.  At that point even their whispered, hurried conversation became audible.  She heard what appeared to be the leader's demand for a pistol, and soon after noticed that she could no longer hear the tread of the two others; they must have left the path.

"You can put that away, you won't need it," said Sabite curtly in Inglish, turning to face her contact.  "There are no patrols here at this hour, and even if one did chance by, we're covered on all sides.  Your associates in the woods are, I'm sure, being told the same thing."  She knew her Inglish sounded haughty and pretentious, but then again, if she was right about who her contact was, that was exactly how she should sound.  And the more omniscient she sounded, the better that was as well.

The man hadn't said a word, nor moved beyond clicking on the safety of his weapon.  "Well," began Sabite again, "I was told that you would be bringing me, or telling me, something to my advantage."

[Myroria]

"Yes," said Erwin, tucking his pistol into his back pocket. His brother was enigmatic; even the most conservative Myrorians could be convinced to say "He has some good ideas" if not well-educated. Or well-trained, depending on your point of view. But Rolf was dead, and now Erwin took over. His face was eerily gaunt, his skin almost grayish pale. Erwin wanted nothing less than total revolution, and he was more open to the idea of replacing "Libertarian Monarchy" with "Benevolent, Socialist Libertarian Dictatorship".

"Yes, yes." said Erwin, repeating his first words twice.

"My men and I have brought you weapons and money. We have some immediately here, in case you should have trouble getting your true prize. Great House Vrotrith has donated to your cause the MMM Individuality. It is painted in the colors of Hanso, so it should stay safely at the docks for your agents - hopefully unknown comrades - to claim it. Here is the purchase form. Ignore the charge; it's taken care of. As far as the Xyraelis should be concerned, the ship is destined for Peter Thompson, an outlander kinsman of Great House Hanso. Good luck, comrades."

The men dropped the wheelbarrow, placed two briefcases on top of the weapons it in, and walked off, presumably to catch a flight back to Myroria.

[Zimmerwald]

Sabite paused to watch the strange, grey, pinch-faced man summon his fellows and walk back over the crest of the nearest hill.  She called a few of her own comrades out of the woods and with them drew close to the barrow.  They made far less noise than the Myrorians had treading the shingle that paved the path, a skill aquired from long practice.

The weapons in the barrow were nothing special.  Indeed, many of them were inferior to the Iseltov models that stocked the Davet arsenals currently.  Still, every little was a gain, and the boost to morale of knowing that there were people out there in the wide world who sympathized was incalculable.

The real benefit turned out to be in the briefcases.  Both contained large stacks of Kolonialreichmarks, but one contained instructions on how best to claim the Individuality, the "true prize" that had been mentioned.  The barrow too made little noise as it was dragged along to the next destination; Kesan, where the Individuality was docked.

[Mor'os]

With a strained squeal and a hiss the train came to a halt at the station in Tekirdag. The sudden stop and the noise which accompanied it stirred Lhouzhī, who had been stealing a moment's nap while on board. Muttering to himself and disappointed that as always he had been awoken from his dream just as things were becoming interesting he picked up the single bag which contained all of the scant belongings which he had bothered to bring with him and exited the train.

Lhouzhī had not bothered to try and disguise himself. The inherent physical differences between him and the local population were simply insurmountable. Not only would have any attempt to hide them have been in vain, but it would have only cast suspicion on him by making it painfully obvious that he had something to hide and was making every effort to keep it from being hidden. He had evenly chosen to brazenly wear a Mor'osi nāmon. And his natural appearance was inherently disarming, making hiding it all the more pointless. 5'9", skinny with glasses and a thin mustache, Lhouzhī did not exactly say "threat" to most of the people who looked at him.

Getting to Tekirdag had been relatively simple, but he was far from his intended goal. He had received further details on his mission as he left Kēur. The uprising appeared to be centered around the city of Corlu, and that was where Lhouzhī had been assigned to head for. Unfortunately, Corlu was by far one of the most heavily guarded cities by the Xyraelis, who it seemed were intent on containing the revolution and its leaders. That was where the assignment had ended. No details had been provided on just how he was supposed to bypass this blockade, enter Corlu and contact the revolutionaries. Apparently the Bureau of Imperial Intelligence trusted him to figure that out on his own, and know doubt had no idea themselves.

Lhouzhī had pondered the problem through his entire journey, but had lacked the necessary intelligence to reach a conclusion. Now that he was in Tekirdag, his first order of business was to try and gather that necessary intelligence, or at least first after he had located some place in which to stay. The full weight and reality of where he was and just what he was about to attempt bearing down on him, Lhouzhī left the station, in search of a good hotel.

[Zimmerwald]

Lokman Guldeste stood outside the double doors to the Miltur Turistik Tesisleri Tekirdag, absently adjusting his off-white uniform jacket.  He never had much to do anymore; the upheval in Istanbul and Corlu had driven almost the tourists away.  Not that Tekirdag had ever been much of a tourist's city.  It's seaside was less beuteous than that of Marmara Eregli, and the nightlife was to be found in Corlu.  The harbors were small, and Tekirdag was only a very secondary port, so there wasn't even that source of tourism.  Probably why Miltur Turistik Tesisleri Tekirdag was the only real hotel in the city.

Technically, he didn't have to come into work today, due to the work holiday promulgated by the Xyraelis to counter the strike appeals from Corlu.  But he'd volunteered to come and keep the place running.  Not only did he defy the Xyraelis in his own small way by doing so, there were potential guests to be thought of.  Lokman wasn't a fan of the hotel management, but he didn't want to abandon any guests that might need him.

Lokman scanned up and down the patched asphalt of the road.  He didn't really have to do this, but a crushing boredom had settled down over him.  Tekirdag these days seemed quiet, repressed, too self-contained, especially when such momentous events were happening in a neighboring city.  Usually he didn't even bother to focus his eyes when he did this, but today was different.  Today he leaned back in surprise as an actual taxi bearing an actual guest pulled up to the curb.  To Lokman, it seemed that the guest was vomited out of the car with his luggage, as the car sped down the street.

As Lokman extended his hand to the stranger to take his bags, he noticed the odd details of his appearence.  The man was slight, mustachio'd, and dressed in a garment Lokman hadn't seen before.  Something in the back of his mind told him that this man was important in some way...

[Mor'os]

With a groan of discomfort Lhouzhī lifted himself off the ground, brushing of his clothing and readjusting his glasses. When he had done the latter, the man standing in front of him came into clear focus, and immediately Lhouzhī accepted the offer of help with his luggage.

"Thank...you" Lhouzhī said slowly, making an excessive effort at correct pronunciation and grammar as he spoke slowly in Turkish. Despite this, his accent was immediately audible, and in some ways a touch more pathetic for all of the wasted effort he had put into avoiding it. Readjusting his glasses again in what seemed to almost be a nervous habit, Lhouzhī  attempted to speak again, with much the same results as the first time.

"This is...hotel?" He bit his lip as he paused to search for his next words. "I am needing place... to stay a night."

[Zimmerwald]

After helping the man to steady himself, Lokman picked up his single, smallish bag.  It was made of a very dense, unyielding black material that Lokman couldn't identify, quite unlike the rucksacks or satchels that he was accustomed to tuck under his arm.  He held this bag instead by the handle as he and the stranger turned toward the doors.  It occured to Lokman that there was no way of telling what was in this sort of suitcase, but he didn't comment upon it.

Lokman spoke slowly, trying to accomidate to the man's stilted Turkish.  "Yes, you can stay here," he said.  Then, in an effort to make conversation he inquired, "why only one night?"

[Mor'os]

Lhouzhī did not immediately answer the man's question. He was preoccupied with yawning as well as stretching. For some reason he found that the left side of his back was aching. Perhaps he had slept on it funny in the train. When he finally did answer it was with a note of confusion. The language barrier was already proving to be a troublesome point for him.

"One night?" Lhouzhī did not recall specifically asking for just one night. But he knew full well that his Turkish was not the best there was and that it was best to defer judgment to a native speaker of the language.

"I am sorry then. What I said...is wrong then. I will most likely be needing more night than only one."