March of the Warmasters...

["Amit Sabnis" <ajsabnis@stanford.edu>]

Hallo, all....following is a log (from Pers's view) of a meeting that took
place in the Imperial Museum (classy place, I recommend it..:] ) between the
Bajazet Regent, Haroon Kiamil, and the Alvstad Warmaster, Pers
Eskilsen....enjoy.


Descriptions:

*HAROON*

A tall and swarthy man who carries himself with a pride and careful manner
which instantly suggest a soldier. His face is deeply tanned and showing the
first signs of wear from age and weather but the twinkling green eyes that
shine from beneath thick eyebrows convey an air of youthfulness. His thick
grey hair is cut to medium length, and on his face he sports a magnificent
beard groomed into two forks and a bristling moustache.

He wears a thigh-length military jacket of black silk that is cut to flatter
a body, which despite advancing years, has been maintained in excellent
physical form. A row of engraved gold buttons runs up to the neck and a red
sash crosses his front from right to left. The collar and cuffs of the
jacket are turned back to reveal a red interior piped with white, and
smiliarly coloured epaulettes and gold braid adorn each shoulder.
Embroidered onto his left chest in white is a word in archaic arabic. Baggy
white trousers with a red stripe down each seam flare out from the waist,
ballooning at the ankles, where they are tucked into polished black boots
which reach to his mid-calf. Slung from his hip is a delicately curved
scimitar in an ornate black leather scabbard, embossed with gold
calligraphy.


*PERS*
Light seems to be pulled from afar onto this imposing figure, lighting every
crisp crease on his teal and gray uniform, every facet of the decorations he
wears on his left breast, and crowning his brilliantly white hair with a
straw golden halo. His entire manner gives an impression of precision, from
his perfect posture to the way his gray-green eyes stab across the room,
demanding answers wherever he looks. Even the creases on his face, the marks
of age and the merciless Alvsgaard air, add to his stately presence.

Turning away from the striking sharpness of this man, you begin to notice
the mundane. Despite his commanding air, you would wager that the man is a
shade under six feet in height. His figure is by no means lean, but rather
hardy and athletic. Beneath the uniform, you notice that this man's muscles
have that stringy look that sets a sailor apart from any other. If his
weatherbeaten, leathery skin is any indication, you would not be surprised
to hear that he had lived on the waves all of his life. Combined with his
aura of aggressiveness, this thought seems just slightly unnerving.

Pers is wearing a crisply pressed uniform, the teal and gray of the Royal
Navy of the Viscount Alvstad. Two full bars of black on the left breast of
his jacket mark him as the High Admiral of the Naval Fleet, and a number of
small medals decorate the uniform in memory of various awards and military
victories. Beneath the neck of the teal dress jacket, you see a tight
undershirt of even gray that matches the slacks he wears. A high collared
cape, teal on the inside with a gray whalefur exterior flows in crisp pleats
from his neck. Fisherman's boots of dull black thump across the floor as he
walks, announcing his presence long before he enters a room.

**BEGINNING OF LOG**

The Hall of Emperors -- Imperial Museum (Kaitain)

A grand hall, known as the Hall of Emperors, opens before you. It is at
least twice as long as it is wide, and open above for three stories to a
transparent arched roof. Ornately carved arched foot bridges cross overhead
connecting the wings on either side.

At the far end of the Hall is a grand staircase, virtually as wide as the
room itself. It rises to an intermediate landing, a man's height above the
main floor, before branching to either side to continue the ascent. From
that vantage, a massive painting, 'Sheuset I After the Battle of Corrino,'
dominates the room.

Lining the walls are Imperial portraits of descendants of Sheuset, the
paragons of Corrino virtues. At the geometric center of the Hall is a
platform which supports a bronze statue, bigger than life and in heroic
style, of the former emperor, Fredhrick.

Off to each side, doors and archways provide access to other facilities of
the museum.
Players:
 Pers (landing)

Exits:
 A Rosewood Door <E> leads to Director's Office -- Imperial Museum
 Closed Double Doors <NW> leads to The Studio -- Imperial Museum
 Stone Archway <NE> leads to The Gallery -- Imperial Museum
 Marbled Steps <S> leads to Butler Plaza -- Central District

Haroon climbs up the Marbled Steps.
Haroon has arrived.

His figure dwarfed by the painting he surveys, the Alvstad Warmaster
contemplates the first of the Corrino Emperors from his vantage point on the
landing, arms crossed behind his back and eyes half squinted. A squire of
some sort stands quietly to the Admiral's side, his head pointed to the
ground, but face attentive.

Haroon enters from the street with an appearance of casualness and scans the
contents of the room professionally. He is accompanied by a two guards,
short sharply dressed guards in the dark red and black baggy livery of the
Mamluk guards. A young girl dressed in plain black and with pale skin and
slightly pointed features follows behind. Haroon touches his hand to his
temple in a half-salute as he notices the Admiral on the upper level.

The young man accompanying the Admiral proffers a bow to the Regent as he
enters, then looks away and mutters something under his breath, still
looking at the ground. Pers nods slowly, either at his inner thoughts
concerning the portrait or at something the lad said. In any case, he turns
slowly to pay attention to you, or, more accurately, your entourage. He
echoes your half-salute of moments ago, letting his gaze linger on your
guards for an extra moment before turning to issue instruction to his
squire.  The page nods after hearing the Warmaster's instruction, but makes
no move after acknowledging it.

The Regent steps forwards, the female attache following at his heel. His
guards remain by the door but keep their attention focussed between the
entrance and the hall. Haroon bows a short formal bow as he is acknowledged
and regards the Admiral wryly. "Good day My Lord. A fitting place to find
another warmaster."

Pers's form heaves up quickly in a noncomittal grunt. "Fitting, my Lord
Regent?" he asks, turning to face you. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you
mean." Eyes of gray and green blankly meet your own as he turns to face you.

Haroon meets the Admirals stare and makes a gesture encompassing the hall.
"A Museum to the Imperium is a museum to the art of war." He smiles with a
dryly amused but wary expression. "Perhaps we should count the number of
pictures of the Battle of Corrin here."

Pers's neutral expression widens into a somewhat icy smile. "A museum to the
art of war, you say?" He turns to look once more to the portrait of Sheuset
Corrin. "This," he says, pointing with his entire hand, "is not war. We are
in a museum dedicated to the spoils of victory," he explains, the slightest
tint of derision creeping into his voice. "I'd expect a man such as yourself
to know the difference, my Lord Regent. After all, Malarca Prime does not
look much like this," he adds in a lilting tone. He raises his head slightly
at the end of his statement, cooly surveying your reaction.

Haroon chuckles with a low rumble that reverberates slightly in the
expansive room. "Why else would I be here to contemplate the glory of
victory?" he asks with a beady smile. "If only one thing is assured it is
that whatever the outcome, Malarca Secundus will have a wondrous display of
public spending by the victors." He shakes his head, his mood becoming
slightly less jovial as he regards an image of a slightly constipated
looking Imperial forefather. "Were it not for war what else would man choose
to congratulate itself on in such a way?"

An almost imperceptible nod and an even tighter smile return your question.
The old sailor's eyes glint approvingly. "What indeed, Regent? A showcase of
the art of war, then; I concede," he says, as if admitting defeat without
ceding an inch of ground. "Is that why you are visiting, then? To study the
old traditions of public spending in anticipation of victory?" Pers arches a
single eyebrow, continuing, "I've heard that the tide has shifted yet again
on Malarca. Those with money placed discretely on a Harkonnen success have
been having ill dreams." Money on a Harkonnen success? What could this man
be talking about?

The young girl, perhaps a slave, keeps her gaze fixed at a point in the far
distance. Something about her bearing suggests she is almost entering a
trance. Haroon on the other hand shoots the Admiral a quick glance in order
to observe the expression that accompanied the comment. He pauses carefully
"Perhaps.." he muses. "This seems the most fitting place on Kaitain to
consider ones actions, surrounded by the 'glory' of one's predecessors." He
folds his hands behind his back and strolls forwards a few paces. "I do not
know of any House that placed money discretely on a Harkonnen success." He
emphasises the word discretely slightly.

"Houses?" Pers asks, surprised. "Houses rarely move in such open paths, Lord
Regent. At least, not to my knowledge...I am not a man of politics," he
says, gently accenting the final word. "Individuals, however, often play
such games...placing value on the outcomes of things as this. Did you not
say that men congratulate themselves on war?" He lets this final thought
hide the deeper question left by his comments, turning the conversation back
to you with a deftness that speaks of years of practice. Perhaps not a man
of politics, the old Admiral nevertheless knows how to stay afloat in them.


Haroon nods to Pers as if he was acknowledging a well-played chess move. His
eyes twinkle in the light from the glo-globes as he replies "An extravagant
form of gambling. A habit which I find foolish." A wily smile spreads across
the crow-lines around his eyes. "It is not always as easy to influence the
oods as it first appears."

Pers moves his head slightly to the side, discretely glancing back at his
squire. A play of the light crowns his flaxen hair with a brilliant halo,
making him melt easily into the heroic style of the picture behind him:
another well-wisher of the Emperor, ready to receive honors after the Battle
of Corrin. The Alvst page nods ever so slightly at the Warmaster, prompting
him to look back at you and banish the illusion. "I would agree," he says
simply. "Though there are some," he adds, "who will engage in such pasttimes
regardless...most often those that feel they possess the correct levers to
move the world." Pers's small smile folds gently into a sardonic grin. "And
the required position, of course."

Haroon nods calmly to Pers and holds his gaze for a moment in a look that
acknowledges understanding of the conversation's undertone. The same play of
light lengthens and broadens his shadow on the wall behind him - an old
warhorse, arms folded across his chest. "Indeed." He waits, not prepared to
up the ante of the conversation first.

A long pause...perhaps the Alvst is not prepared to be so social as to
continue a conversation without prompting. "Tell me, Lord Regent," he says
abruptly, breaking the silence. Perhaps not. "Do you think any of us have
such a position?" A forward question at last. "Or such a lever? The altering
of events in our day requires so much more than a single battle," he
explains, gesturing to one more of the gratuitous paintings around the hall.
"One might consider that such power resides in no one but his Majesty in
this day." Pers holds his expression neutral and voice carefully
controlled...caution on one front if not the other, it seems.

Haroon shifts his position and eyes a statue of His Majesty Jeon Corrino.
"The Guild has such a lever. One long enough to move entire planets." He
delivers the response in a flat formulaic way and then shrugs. "An
interesting question Lord Admiral. There are some who would dispute even
that His Majesty exercises such power." He arches a single fiercely bushy
black eyebrow.

Pers unclasps his hands from behind his back and in a surprisingly human
gesture, scratches his chin. "Interesting," he comments. "Surely some
Emperor must have, although it is dubious that the Landsraad High Council
will let him do so now," he concedes, a flick of his eyes hinting at a
personal opinion of the Council itself. "But--" About to continue, Pers is
interrupted by his page. In a surprisingly deep rumble, the man speaks a
fluid soup of joined vowels, indicating the door with a brief nod of his
head. Pers replies in turn to the lad before turning back to you. "But," he
continues, "this is a discussion topic for another day. Being surrounded by
the fruits of war leads to a lack of perspective, wouldn't you agree?"

Haroon nods in approval. "Indeed, to bask in it too long is a dangerous
past-time." he says slowly and stares at another variation on the hall's
common theme. Something in the light makes his expression show a look of
typical Bajazet suspicion of all such things. He redirects his attention to
the Admiral and pauses a second in calculation. "Perhaps the humble confines
of our embassy at your convenience?"

Pers looks at you with a carefully held expression of nonchalance. He blinks
twice before replying, "An interesting invitation...I shall have to consider
it further." He bows curtly to you and quickly descends the landing, adding,
"Good evening to you, Lord Regent," before trotting out the Marble Steps
into the plaza outside.

The gaze of the young girl at the Regent's side slowly refocuses as she
turns to him and nods slightly.

**END OF LOG**

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