~Of Sheep and Camels~

[Wolfgang Murinyo]

It was an odd sight to behold, and many who beheld it would agree; a carriage was being pulled along, a grand and spectacular carriage indeed, through the city streets. It held a rather splendid air of regalia, painted gold, burgundy, and lavender, the tricolor of the Ciel Dominion, and had brightly adorned curtains and $20,000 diamond-studded rims, because why not? It was ALSO drawn by four of the legendary wooly camels of Gelemorté; large beasts, shaggy fur in the burgundy and gold of the nation's own national colors, chosen for such reasons, indeed. But while the carriage itself was magnificent, unusual, and fantastic, the truly peculiar sight strode boldly forth in front of the carriage. Well, you see... It was quite obvious that it was a carriage fit for a king. Thus, one would be willing to assume that the king was located within such a fine vessel, planning to meet with their own king in a manner most dignified, traditional, and stylishly done. A carriage, truly classy! But not quite EPIC.

Hence why the carriage was lead by a man barebacking a grizzly bear. A wild bear, for that matter, Wolfgang had just happened to find it in the woods after his arrival in Carraig, and mounted it, assuming it was one of Carraig's fine horses that he heard so much about. Not like there weren't grizzlies in Gele, just that he... Well, he doesn't need a reason, he's himself. But that wasn't even the oddest part of it all. He was donning a pair of badly acid-washed bellbottoms, and was barefoot, but that was oddly enough something he's known to do. He was also wearing a fedora, wide-brimmed of course, with a rather festive and attention-capturing peacock feather adorning it, quite ornately. Also normal. But he wasn't wearing a shirt... Somewhere along the lines of his brief ride from the docks to his present location, it had gone missing somehow, and he didn't really bother questioning where it was, only noticing it when he felt his ponytail, as his hair was tied in, brushing against his back.

But he didn't need a shirt, right? He was confident in his manliness, and he DID have a nice six-pack that he didn't mind showing off. Besides, this was to be a manly meeting between kings, one with sheep and camels! Honestly, he didn't usually have much experience with conversing with the mute king, but he had met the man at least once before, and he was a splendid host, for sure. He always did enjoy Carraig's hospitality and such. And Creig mead and mutton! Was wunderbar stuff, it was. And, as he'd heard rumors of, Carraig seemed to be nearly as insane and silly as his own nation, so it was perhaps fate that the two lords of lunacies, masters of madness, KINGS OF KRAZY, would be having brunch and a nice diplomatic meeting. Should be fun.

And as he stopped in front of Gavin's palace-place-thing, he cheerfully waved at the guards, who seemed to recognize him as a high-profile figure, given his royal status, though they were slightly off-put by his arrival. He waited until the good ruler of Neutral-Land stepped out the door, before grinning brightly and widely, flailing an arm at him quite excitedly in a wave, still sitting atop the killing machine often referred to as an OHMYGODTHATTHINGISGOINGTOEATMENOOOOOOOO!!! by MOST people. "Eyyo, Gavy, 'owya be do, ee?~ Ya gats youse some rightcha goodie ponies'n C'rraig, das fer sho'~ Lookit dis cute'un, amirite?!?" Yep. He still hadn't realized he was riding a bear. Classic Wolfy...

[Gavin Etheridge]

For centuries, being neutral had come with higher costs than most of the world ever cared to bat an eyelash at. The world only cared that the rocky island of Carraig existed when they needed to hire Creig mercenaries to pad their armies and win their wars, and for centuries that was the only reason those countries ever won. They were a tough lot and since the first clans had settled on the land, man and woman alike knew at least a little of how to fight and defend; between the fourteen original clans, nobody would rush to their aid externally for a conflict, and even after the unification, still nobody came. Even when Rouen renigged on their contracts and oaths and invaded, seeking to take Carraig as Rouenian territory, nobody came... And yet, Carraig emerged victorious, free, and with some mild resentment of the lingering Rouenian cities that had been founded.

In these times, things had only changed on the surface. Gavin kept true to his nation's neutrality, but times were dangerous now, and there were enemies out now that his ancestors never would have considered imagining. RIOTE could wipe them off the face of the earth if they really wanted to; even though the reigning joke in Carraig to deal with being outnumbered two-to-one was to aim twice and go home, Drachma's forces were substantial and just as hearty as Carraig's own. Carraig only had the blessing of technology on their side, and Gavin made sure they kept the best goodies for themselves and a secret. Know your enemy and do business with him always. A good policy that Carraig had followed for centuries until Gavin closed out all Drachman accounts, determined that he'd sell to anyone but RIOTE.

Friends were in short supply, and few people would stick their neck out if the tiny island were in trouble unless it directly affected them. Gavin couldn't blame them for that at all, but it was still an unsettling thought. Ties with Esparia were good, their agreements of a sales discount for increased food exports working well to keep Carraig from entering another famine. Amestris was a powerful friend, but only an ally by verbal agreement with Hans, his powerhouse nation still nursing its many, slow-healing wounds and ill economy. Gavin was iffy about turning to Creta for help; historically, it had been Creta their clans had left to become who they were, and fought with for centuries to remain alone. But things were tense right now, even within the mountainous fortress, and so, an invitation had been sent.

Gavin had met King Wolfgang before, once when he'd hosted the diplomatic meeting that accomplished far less than intended. He was... Well, Wolfgang lived up to his reputation. But today Gavin would meet with him, see about increasing trade between their countries, and if all went well, forge another quiet alliance that nobody in the world would really notice or care about. Gavin was as ready as he assumed he could be for such an occasion, dressed in a fiformal kilt, the Etheridge crest pinned to his sash. His long hair was combed back and pulled neatly into a ponytail beneath the white gold and emerald circlet Gavin wore for things like this. He looked, as years of practice had taqught him, as a king should look. So when Gavin was informed that Wolfgang had arrived and was on his way to the palace, Gavin worked to center himself into a state of calm hospitality to welcome his guest.

He'd known that Wolfgang was coming bearing gifts of Gelemortian wooly camels as a peace exchange, and that Wolfgang had a rather... quirkyp outlook on things. But when a guard came to inform Gavin that Wolfgang had arrived and was riding a bear, his first thought was that surely he'd meant Roarke, but that seemed odd since Roarke wouldn't let himself be ridden like a pony. Gavin hurried outside to greet Wolfy and froze in utmost disbelief. No shirt, bell bottom jeans, a fedora, and... HolyMaryMotherOfGODWolfgangwasridingafuckingBEAR. And seemed totally unphased by that. Was... Did... Did Wolfgang bring the bear with him to ride?

The guards looked to Gavin, more than a little uncertain of what to do. It almost reminded him of the day Roarke leapt the palace walls and ran right into the throne room to have a word with Gavin directly. But this was... Wolfgang gave Gavin a friendly wave, still mounted atop the beast. Seriously, where did he even FIND that grizzly!? They usually never came down from the mountains! "Eyyo, Gavy, 'owya be do, ee?~ Ya gats youse some rightcha goodie ponies'n C'rraig, das fer sho'~ Lookit dis cute'un, amirite?!?"

....Ponies? PONIES?! Wolfgang was honestly mad, wasn't he. Gavin returned the wave, trying his damndest to look like this was all perfectly normal, though it was becoming apparent why few nations ever really had the gumption to attack Gelemorte outright. His fingers moved to his speech aid, the volume up. "Welcome King Wolfgang," the mechanical voice said, the Cretan accent legit but sounding more appropriate for a GPS device than a king. "Welcome to Carraig. I trust you had a pleasant trip here? ....Or at least a very interesting one?"

[Wolfgang Murinyo]

The longer Wolfy sat there atop the grizzly, which occasionally snarled at him, the more he realized something. Something of vital importance. Something that could mean the very death of him if he didn't quickly realize the great mistake he'd made. He stared at the grizzly. Hmm... Yes, it was quite a dangerous thing, indeed. It would have to remedied or else awful things would happen. Perhaps his fate was already sealed, the deadly occurrence already in motion? He looked once more down at the wild beast s mangy fur, and only as he glanced down at the claws made seemingly just for the sole purpose of mauling people to death and eating them, did he come to the important conclusion...

Well, wait. If he DID leave the refrigerator door open, surely Hagen would have the sense to close it, like a good little brother. That reminded him, as soon as he got home, he'd have to teach his heir apparent how to play BASKETBALL. Because all good kings could play basketball, of course. He wouldn't request a game with Gavin, however, unless the other man offered to play him. Somehow, Wolfy doubted he would, though...

Though speaking of Gavin, the mute king seemed to be in a state of shock, which Wolfy quickly discovered the reason for. Glancing down at the grizzly he was riding, he laughed. "Oyyah, sorries 'bootda odd'ty rightcharr!~ Would'a weared me denim fedory, sees, 'ceptin it'swere's in th'washin' 'chine'n I in't reallah wantin'a dry'tchet." Yes, because Gavin was disturbed by the fabric of his hat. Who wears denim fedoras anyways...? No matter. As Gavin welcomed him, he dismounted his pony/bear, which stood on its hind legs, about to attack him, as he turned to see it, putting a finger to his chin, rather unafraid, or perhaps simply just too crazy to recognize the danger. "Huh. Y'ka-knows, I could'a sweared dis'un weres a poneh... AH'WELL~" Turning back to Gavin, he skipped cheerfully over, arms extended to hug the man, as two of his guards emerged from the carriage, flinging a net over the bear, one muttering to the other "Not again..." Yes, this WASN'T the first time he'd mistaken some highly dangerous animal for a pony. As the guards called for a helicopter to drop the bear back down into his natural habitat, in the mountains, Wolfy grinned at his host.

"Oyya, 'm doin' dandy, right dandy 'deedy, yipyep!~ Wolfy, bee-tee-wubbers, King Wolfygang's whatwere me diddy's call'im, 'cept ole popsy weren't a king, 'nall dat." Informality was usually the best policy, or so he assumed. It usually worked, of course, simply due to the fact that most people who'd heard of him and his reputation for strangeness and eccentricity normally expected informality from him. In fact, were he to be formal and boring, it would come off as unnatural. Like at that world summit, when he attempted to greet Yuuko. YIKES, that was one TERRIFYING woman. The new guy was much nicer, even gave Wolfy a piggie back ride, for a second or two, before flipping him out of sheer terror.

"So'ow're youse, Gavy, ole friend, oh chum, ole pal'o'mine, pantomime, mimes wear pants, an'all tha'thur confusin's?"

[Jay Furor]

~BUMP~

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