Bajazet Welcome Wagon -or- 'Tis the season to remember the poor

["Lindsay Bowen" <lbowen@hotmail.com>]

Log file from Dune III.

Lounge -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)
The lounge of the Imperial Hotel serves as a more casual alternative to the 
prestigious dining room. Even though simply decorated everything is of the 
highest quality. The tables are made of the finest dark hardwoods of the 
Imperium. Exquisite paintings are spaced evenly along the walls. Portions of 
a cloth tapestry lies behind glass frames behind the bar. The meta-glass 
window on the south wall provides a view of the Circle of Stars. Servants 
stand ready to answer the needs of patrons.
Players:
Hasan (bar)

Hasan
A tall olive-skinned man with a high forehead topped by thick jet-black hair 
visible beneath a plumed calvary helmet. Today his face is grim and his 
expression not a little jaded, despite the twinkle of a ruby stud in one 
earlobe. His brown eyes scan the far reaches of the area constantly.

A "Doc Brown" belt cinches his waist and crosses one shoulder. From it hangs 
a shield generator, sidearm and pellet cartridges. At his side, a scabbard 
for a heavy sabre and a long naked slip-tip. He has a suspensor-sling 
supporting his left arm.


Hasan just looked at you.

Vittorio enters from the hotel lobby.
Vittorio has arrived.

Vittorio scoots into the corner booth.

A martially-dressed Bajazet noble sits at the bar, chatting with two Trade 
Representatives. A plumed calvary helmet sits on an open stool beside him. 
There are six guards wearing the black and white Bajazet livery stationed 
unobtrusively at various points around the room.

Hasan turn upon hearing Vittorio's arrival. He stands and bows formally.

Sen enters from the hotel lobby.
Sen has arrived.

As Vittorio arrives, he is preceeded by a creature of stunning beauty, 
exhibiting everything that is desired in the women of Grumman. She is 
dressed int eh shiny black leather uniform of the now infamous Moritani 
special police. Behind her, the Siridar Count Moritnai makes his enterance, 
attempting to be discreet, but attempting in vain. Folling the short train 
in an attractive man in his early twenties, dressed also in the unform of 
the PSM.

Hasan is standing by the bar. He has just broken off from a conversation 
with some minor functionaries to bow to the Moritani Siridar. There are six 
Bajazet guards stationed here and there.

Hasan pays the Moritani no undue attention besides the bow and begins to 
turn back to the trade representatives.

Sen arrives, flanked by one of her Jagers, but otherwise lacking a train or 
attendants. She glances warily around the room, alert as always even after a 
gruelingly long space journey to Kaitain.
Vittorio smile to the Bajazet, acknowledging the bow with a quick, informal 
hand salute. The Moritani walks with what might be described as a drunken 
swagger, though thre is no evidence that he has been drinking.

Hasan leans one elbow on the bar and lets his injured arm dangle in its 
sling.

Hasan straightens as he sees the Harkonnens enter. But instead of 
acknowledging them, uses his good arm to take up his glass of clear liquor.

Hasan answers one of the econ fellows, "Yes, thank you for the compliment. 
The Baroness will be glad to hear it. But, we cannot take much credit. In a 
heady economy like this, the tides raises all ships." He sips his drink and 
lazily surveys the room, stopping when he sees Sen. "Well, almost all 
ships." Smile. Sip. Nod.

Sen gives a sharp look towards Hasan, who's taken the second best seat, 
tactically speaking. Vittorio has the best, so the Harkonnen tilts her head 
for her Jager's attention, and takes the third best; the red table near one 
of the walls.

Sen takes a seat at the red table.

Harkonnens are fond of red, anyhow.

Vittorio barely noticed the Harkonnen enter, and gives little more then a 
casual nod in her direction if he offers anything at all. He does, however, 
glance toward the Bajazet, to see that man's reaction, then back to the 
Harkonen again, to see if the atmosphere is ripe for combat.

Hasan makes an extravagent gesture, and summons a waiter. He speaks in a 
stage whisper. "Please, bring the good Baron's men whatever they would like. 
On my bill. I hear every Solari counts these days. For some."

Hasan smiles and lifts his glass towards Sen's companion.

Sen bows politely(as much as she can while sitting) to the Count, then nods 
with very -precise- politeness in the Bazajet's direction.

Hasan responds with a smile that can only be described as feral. "Well met, 
Sir."

Sen
	A youthful figure, small and lithe, untouched by the ravages of age, 
disease or malnourishment. The wiry, spring-woven person before you looks to 
be about five foot one, with a complexion which could be described as 
'peaches and cream' without the peaches. There is something immediately 
striking about her, a self-contained kind of presence setting her apart from 
others. Upon second glance, she is vaguely alien in appearance, too sexless 
and sculpted to be quite human. She rather resembles an achingly beautiful 
boy, or a large, all-too-knowing child. The strange little person's hair is 
stark white, not even blonde but rather with a tinge of silver to it, and 
cropped close to her head on the back and sides.
	Her hands are refined and expressive, with long and tapered fingers. It 
seems she speaks almost as much with her hands as with her lilting voice.. 
they are the hands of an artist. Judging from her quick, evaluating gaze, 
she appears to have an opinion about everything she sees. Whether she 
actually expresses that opinion or not, it's quite evidently there, glinting 
behind preternaturally bright green eyes. Overall, she gives an impression 
of androgynous artifice, an interloper in the natural world, but the eerie 
beauty she possesses is tempered by a lethal, unforgiving nature.
	At the moment, she's wearing a black leotard under ribbed, overlapping 
indigo plates of armor. The cowlings have been field-modified so that the 
contact points are padded for nearly silent motion. By the sigil on her left 
shoulder, she's known as an officer of the Feldwehr's elite Jager company, 
more specifically a Jagerkapitan. Soft rubber soles on her boots make very 
little sound while giving her traction and flexibility, keeping with her 
controlled, catlike mannerisms. What equipment she carries seems to mostly 
be tucked away under plates of armor, but a chain and sickle hang from her 
left hip, the hilt of some variety of sword pokes up over her right 
shoulder, and a well-oiled gyrojet pistol rests on her right hip.

The black-and-indigo Jager, who fairly towers over his boyish little 
commander, gives Hasan a rather poorly disguised glare.

Sen replies in a lilting, pleasantly husky voice, "Yes.. Sir."

Hasan hums a tune that sounds something like a protest anthem before 
responding pleasantly. "...'Pasha' will do nicely, thank you. I hope you 
enjoy the drinks." He turns back to the economists, who have grown a bit 
pale. The Bajazet guards stand as still as stones.

Vittorio's eyes watch the Harkonnen, noting her seated bow with a hint of 
displeasure. His lips, always frowning, seperate as he exhales, a word lost 
on his breathe. His eyes remain fixed on the 'woman.' A nearly imperceptable 
shake of his head is the only sign of his disaproval of such flagrant 
display of violent purpose. He exchanges a glance with the young woman who 
sits opposite him, and another hinted word leaves his lips. The police 
officer nods her head, standing, she faces the Harkonnen, straightening her 
uniform as she does so. She adjusts the pistol at her side.

The waiter approaches the Moritani table.

Sen says agreeably, "Of course, Pasha. You may address me as 'Jagerkapitan,' 
if you so care." Her Jager leans over and whispers something to her, and she 
shakes her touselled head slightly, muttering something about only being 
here briefly while waiting for something to be finished.

Hasan keeps his back to the room at large. He seems to be studying the 
facial expression of the men he chats with, who can't take their eyes of the 
display of power and position in the Lounge. It as if they reflect what is 
going on as clearly as a mirror.

Hasan takes another sip of his Raki and glances over his shoulder, 
"Certainly, Sir Yeagercapitan." The word sounds almost like "meager", but it 
could just be the accent.

"Harkonnen Jagerkaptian, Our Leader, the Siridar Count Moritani asks that 
you join him at our table," The woman's poise and posture are perfect, neat 
and refined. Her demeanor is that of an actress, or a news anchor from the 
shigawire reels, "If you would please follow me to our leader's table." The 
latter is more command then invitation, though it serves the purpose of the 
latter.

The waiter asks the Count and his party for their orders, giving all respect 
due a Siridar.

The young man of the PSM greets the waiter as he takes the Count's order, 
asking only for a plate of bread and four glasses of chilled tea.

Sen's round, smooth face lights up with a fairly phosphorescent smile. "Oh, 
so it -is- the Count himself. How kind." She rises and nods, making a 
rolling, conciliatory gesture with her left hand. "Is my associate also 
invited?" The Jager gives her an intent look.
The waiter bows, and looks toward the red table, unsure whether to wait for 
the Harkonnen to approach or not.

Sidra enters from the hotel lobby.
Sidra has arrived.

Sidra walks in, inconspicuously, and crosses over to the bar
Sidra takes a seat at the bar.

Hasan smiles and nods in greeting to the woman. "Vizier."

Sidra says, "Pasha.." she says cheerfully and nods, signaling the bartender 
over to take her order."

Although Sen's Jager doesn't notice Sidra, being focussed on the 
policewoman, the swordsmaster herself discreetly watches Sidra pass with 
some degree of her awareness.

The female PSM officer cranes her neck to look to Vittorio as the man nodds. 
She then turns back to face the Jagerkaptain, "Of course, Jagerkaptain. Our 
leader welcomes the presence of his most favored allies."

Hasan speaks in a low voice to Sidra, but can be easily overheard. "People 
tell me that the CHOAM Governor's meeting was quite amacible. How did you 
find it, Nevt?"

Sidra says, "I found it acceptibly productive.." she says casually, and 
turns to murmer her order to the barkeep. He returns very quickly with a 
glass."

Sen returns the nod and flashes her guard a brief hand signal. "Then I would 
be honoured, of course. If you would?" She rises, pushes in her chair 
tidily, and turns to follow the officer back to the Count.

All smiles, the trade representatives order more drinks. They can almost 
taste the profits from the successful contracts enjoyed by most Great 
Houses.

Sidra swirls her glass and angles herself to watch most of the room.

Hasan turns to see what Sidra is looking at. He nods to encourage the waiter 
to extend his offer to the Jaegers.

Vittorio looks toward the approaches Jaberkaptian as she is lead by the PSM 
officer to the corner table, "Jagerkaptain ..." He, of course, knows no 
names, only the displayed rank, "Please, have a seat." He motions across 
from him.

At the bar, Hasan smiles.

Sidra eyes the trade representives, and looks back to Hasan, arching a brow.
At the bar, Sidra says, "Hm"

Hasan shrugs and withdraws a folded map from the pocket of his uniform 
pants.

Sen crosses the room with a curiously swaying, rolling gait, which somehow 
manages to properly balance all her equipment so that she makes no more 
sound then a faint, muffled clicking as she moves. She bows deeply at the 
waist before sliding gracefully into a seat, and her Jager does the same. 
"Sen Howrym'n, Lord, Swordsmaster of House Harkonnen. I apologize for my 
earlier disregard, Siridar-Count. I was distracted and failed to entirely 
recognize you." She declines to introduce the tall, rangy Jager, as he's 
only a soldier and below formal introduction.

Sidra takes a swallow from her glass, pausing to enjoy the flavor of a dark 
red wine.

Hasan lays the map on the bar in front of him and begins to unfold it, 
without any explanation.

The waiter, not waiting to keep the Moritani thirsty, hurries to get the 
tea.

At the bar, Hasan scans his map of the Cannon Green.

Sidra whispers, "Why are you analysing the Green?"

At the bar, Hasan points to a prominent position on the map. "I think the 
monument would fit nicely about here."

Sidra smiles in a lighthearted and conspiratorial manner, raising her glass 
slightly.

The waiter returns and serves the pane Toscano and tea to the Moritani.

Vittorio does not smile, but only nods his head, "I see." Is all the man 
says for a while. He looks to the two Bajazet, and then the the assortment 
of Bajazet military spread about the lounge, and the economists, and the 
Jager, and the other, non-descript rabble who clutter the lounge. His eyes 
then return to the androgenous figure who now sits across from him. "As you 
know, I am Colonnelo Moritani, of the 32nd infantry of Moritani. You are in 
hostile territory, Jagerkaptian. That very seat you sit in is not safe." His 
eyes follow the armor, noting the modifications, "You are dressed for 
combat, I see. Tell me. Is there a target in mind?" The question is a bit 
leading, of not condescending.

The waiter patiently performs his namesake duty, waiting. He is not sure if 
the Harkonnen pair are situated and ready for refreshment.

The Jager glances at his Kapitan with surprise. She blinks those big, bright 
green eyes and laughs easily, a light and musical sound, if a little flat 
tonewise. "Oh, no, I'm not -targeting- anyone, Good Count. If I'm dressed in 
my field gear, it's because I've only just arrived here on gentle Kaitain." 
She explains, "You see, my associate and I are waiting here while some 
baggage is moved into the hotel and unpacked. My rooms in the Harkonnen 
embassy are not yet fully prepared." She laughs again, more quietly, even 
confidentially. "That's all, I assure you, Lord," she says with a reassuring 
smile.

Sen adds, genteelly, "I do, of course, thank you for your warning and 
concern, Lord Count." Her Jager looks a little nervous. Perhaps he's 
somewhat sprung from recent battle.

Bowing, the waiter addresses the capitan somewhat hesitantly. "Will you be 
accepting the Lord's offer? Perhaps a menu?"

Sen smiles and nods to the waiter with un-Harkonnesque consideration, every 
bit the friendly, precocious child or mannered young.. entity. "Yes, a menu 
would be appreciated, thank you."

The servant withdraws, only to emerge from the back with a wine list and bar 
menu. He leaves it with them and departs again.

Vittorio nods his head to the lilting woman, though his stubborn frown 
remains. "Then you have only just arrived on /gentle/ Kaitain." He glances 
from the PSM officers to the jagerkaptain, "I can assure you, it is anything 
but gentle." He nods as he is delivered his bread and tea, "You have not 
spoken to the Baron, then. Very interesting. I suspect you will find his 
demeanor as charged as always." He yawns, bored at the smalltalk.

At the bar, Hasan smiles at the Vizier. "You were discussing the Imperial 
Gift with the Lady Amara, were you not?"

Hasan bids farewell to the trade representives. He tries to conceal how 
tiresome they have become to him. The two men make flowery goodbyes to the 
young Bajazet lady.

Sidra nods absently to the representatives.

Hasan, overhearing the Count, can't help but smirk at the word 'charged'. He 
mutters something about bad credit to Sidra.

At the bar, Sidra says, "No, I had no such opportunity to brief her on our 
plans any further..."

Sen flips through the menu after the noble has spoken. "Mm, yes, the Lord 
Baron," she muses, returning her attention to Count Vittorio. "Not yet on 
this trip, Lord, no. But I am certain of it. My Lord is nothing if not a 
vibrant and thrilling presence."

At the bar, Hasan nods as she speaks. "I was wondering if she might not be 
useful to you on some diplomatic visits. And she might profit from seeing 
our Kaitain diplomatic staff in action."

Sidra takes a long draught of wine. "Will Amara be expecting me to explain 
our plans at length?

At the bar, Hasan frowns at the Vizier's volume. "Perhaps. Although she 
seems to have her own opinions on many matters."

At the bar, Sidra says, "I am certain to find her opinions interesting then, 
if not useful."

Vittorio brings his left hand up, index finger scratching at an itch behind 
his left ear, "It's interesting that you are here, though. I mean, of all 
places, Kaitain." The male PSM officer watches Vittorio with a hint of awe. 
As the bread is delivered, he hastily passes a poison snooper over it, as 
well as the tea. Vittorio continues, "With the fighting in Malarca, I'd 
think the Baron would find a better use for you there, or do his management 
skills have something else in store?"

Sidra finishes her glass of wine, and siganls the barkeep for another.

At the bar, Hasan laughs once, though his nose. "We shall see. I would think 
she might hold our efforts here in greater regard if she more more familiar 
with the process." He winks. "I don't expect her to really take part in any 
discussions. Itwouls be an efficent way to make a round of introductions for 
her, though."

At the bar, Hasan grows silent, suddenly interested in the conversation at 
the table behind him.

Sidra arches a brow, curiously at Hasan, shakes her head slightly, and 
swirls her glass.

Hasan takes a small sip of his raki.

Sidra leans forward, elbows on the bar.

Sen opens her mouth momentarily, then closes it again and grins, displaying 
many small and gleamingly white teeth. "Well, Lord Count, I could only make 
conjectures at this point. But whatever conjectures those might be, I'm 
certain Master Nestor would take great offense to my airing them in, as you 
so graciously warn me, is hostile territory." The Jager at Sen's side seems 
to relax somewhat, gradually becoming comfortably bored with all the verbal 
jockeying. His Kapitan summons the waiter to pause with a gesture and points 
out to him a Richesan synthetic version of a brewed root beverage common on 
Giedi Prime, even as she continues to speak. "Although, naturally, I would 
be pleased to share my thoughts with the Lord Count were they freely mine. 
I'm certain it's understood that, until I speak with my Lord Baron, my mouth 
is not entirely mine own." She moistens her lips with her small pink tongue 
in a curiously reptilian flicker, as if to punch up her statement in a 
self-effacing manner.

Hasan speaks up, making a sudden quarter-turn on his high stool. "Too 
expensive, I take it?"

Hasan's eyes narrow as he regards the soldiers who have been slaughtering 
the Malarcans. The guards tense subtly.

The tall blonde Jager's eyes flash blue towards Hasan, but his commander 
chooses instead to ignore the jibe, her delicate hand brushing across her 
compatriot's wrist. He relaxes again, for the most part, but remains 
watchful nonetheless.

Hasan does not take his stare from the two. He remains motionless, almost 
demanding a response.

Vittorio nods his head as the woman speaks, "Mmm hmm." He looks toward 
Hasan, then back to Sen, "Of course, don't feel that I am asking out of some 
sort of inquiry. It's merely polite conversation with my friend's newest 
champion." He glances again toward the Bajazet, then back, "I wouldn't want 
you to say anything you would be uncomfortable with." He picks up his glass, 
taking a long pull from it before sitting it down, placing exactly where it 
was before, "I of course trust the Baron's judgment."

Sin'Vaari enters from the hotel lobby.
Sin'Vaari has arrived.

Sidra has disconnected.

Sin'Vaari steps in from the archway, an unusual grin upon his face as he 
strides up to the bar.

The Bajazet guards salute the newcomer. Hasan nods at the Vizier Nevt. 
"Sidra, perhaps it would be best if you...." She finshes her wine and 
leaves, flanked by two of the six guards.

Sin'Vaari waves off the guards and sits down beside Hasan.

Sin'Vaari takes a seat at the bar.

Sen agrees, "The Lord Count's interest in my engagements is an honor, very 
so." The waiter arrives and sets down the cup of Richesan syntheroot tea 
with a restrained, trembling hand. "I am sure we all trust that my Lord 
Baron's wit is shrewd and insightful, yes, even his enemies must acknowledge 
his cunning." She certainly does appear to love her House. Something buzzes 
in her ear. With a flicker of glittering green eyes, she drains the cup at a 
draught. "However, I must beg the Count's gentle pardon. I am told that 
rooms have been found for me in the Embassy, and I must away."

Momentarily taken aback by the sudden appearance, Hasan recovers his 
composure and smiles warmly at the Swordmaster. "Salaam."

Sin'Vaari grins wryly and says, "Yes, Pasha Kemal. They finally let me out 
of my cage."

Hasan goes back to staring at the Harkonnen. He directs a comment towards 
her: "We'll see if the CHOAM shareholders agree with your confidence in the 
Baron."

Now it's the Jager's turn to touch his leader and warn her of something, his 
eyes flickering between Hasan and Sin'Vaari. She brushes him off with a 
confident gesture of her left hand, however, smooth as fresh milk.

Hasan's eyes shift to the side, sizing up Sin'Vaari.

Sin'Vaari orders a glass of water.

Hasan brushes a bit of dust from his sleeve.
Hasan (Bajazet Battle Language): RESTED AND READY?

Using Amat, Sin'Vaari says, "Very. Who is the little one at the red table?"

Using Amat, Hasan keeps his eyes focused on Sen, waiting for some kind of 
response. "The Moritani called him, her, or it the Slig-Baron's /champion/."

Vittorio glances toward Hasan's instigations, then to Sen, "Of course, 
please, tell your lord Baron that I would like the honor of his company. I 
was quite dissapointed that he was unable to make our last, most recent 
appointment."

Sin'Vaari is overcome by a fit of laughter, almost falling out of his seat 
as he tries to compose himself.

Hasan lifts a brow, taking his attention off the Jaegerkapitan and looking 
at Sin'Vaari, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Sin'Vaari
Long, black hair framing a sharply angled face are the first thing you 
notice about this tall man. He is wearing a long, black leather trench coat, 
with a pair of black slacks and mirror-shined boots, a dark-green button up 
shirt, and black tie. His light blue eyes dark back and forth, a calm 
expression on his face that gives a feeling of tranquility to those near 
him. He is wearing a pair of elegantly forged scimitars upon his back, and a 
maula pistol holstered on his left hip. On the extreme lengths of his trench 
coat, floating only inches above the ground, are a series of scripts written 
in Amat. You get a feeling of serenity from this man, who seems to be at 
peace after hardship.

A broader smile slowly creeps across the Pasha's face. He seems happy to see 
his friend returned to high spirits.

Sin'Vaari shakes the laughter off his face as he replies, "Well.....I see 
that everything has stayed the same."

Using Amat, Sin'Vaari says, "I tell you what, though. I've been screwed by 
one to many Harkonnen to take whatever that is in the corner seriously."

Sen nods and rises, bowing graciously. Her Jager executes a similar bow, 
though not with quite so much niceity. "It has been a distinct pleasure to 
meet the Lord Count," she says, flicking her glance casually over Sin'Vaari 
as she turns.

Hasan raises his glass to the Bajazet swordmaster, "No, not 'stayed the 
same', they have just now come round again."

Sin'Vaari turns and looks at Sen, saying in a cold voice, "Can I help you?"

Vittorio nods his head once more. He then resumes his conversation with the 
two PSM officers who accompany him, with the occasional heated thump upon 
the table as he accents a point.

Hasan takes a long pull of the Raki, slaps it down on the bar, and shifts in 
his seat to beam a prefectly gentlemanly smile at the Harkonnen. He gestures 
at the guard, who file out of the room.

Sin'Vaari looks Sen up and down, an odd and mildly disgusted look on his 
face.

Sen replies in a light and friendly manner, "Not at the moment, but thank 
you for the offer!" She touches her Jager lightly on the hip and the two of 
them depart, the small person in rather high spirits, the tall one looking 
somewhat irritated and tired by the whole tense ordeal.

Sin'Vaari shakes his head, then turns to Hasan.

Hasan inclines his head towards the his Swordmaster, "Kull Wahad, my 
friend."

Sen leaves her seat at the red table.
Sen passes through the arch leading into the hotel lobby.
Sen has left.

Using Amat, Sin'Vaari says, "I must say, either Baron Harkonnen has lost his 
taste in little boys and has gone to the flesh-vat fetish, or someone has 
been chewing a bit too much melange for their own good."
Hasan laughs silently but heartily, his chest convulsing. He jostles his 
injured arm with the effort and winces, but keeps smiling.

Sin'Vaari just looked at you.

Sin'Vaari looks at Hasan's injury, "Problems?"

Hasan shakes his head, "Just a Marcinkian rebel who had good luck with his 
last living shot."

Sin'Vaari nods.

Using Amat, Hasan puts his hand on Sin's shoulder as he turns back to the 
bar. "Let me attend to some business for a moment."

Using Amat, Sin'Vaari says, "Very well. I shall be in the embassy if you 
need me for anything."

Vittorio stands.
Vittorio leaves the corner booth.

Hasan produces a silver pen and a small stationary pad from his ammuniction 
case. "I'll just be a moment."

Vittorio nods to those Bajazet present, as he makes his exit, the PSM 
officers covering as best they can.

Vittorio passes through the arch leading into the hotel lobby.
Vittorio has left.

Hasan stands and bows formally.

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