Presenting the latest LP from grammy-award winning artists Satrat and the
Harkies,

"QUIT PLAYING GAMES WITH MY TURNIP!"

(Satyavrat, Reeve Rastanyev, pays a visit to House Harkonnen).

*Satyavrat*
        Brown eyes encased in a blue sheen take in their surroundings with a
metred jolt that is perhaps a bit distracting to anyone seeking to probe
this figure in depth. A narrow face behind those eyes, framed by coarse
black curls whose aberrant wanderings are the sole features keeping the word
'gaunt' out of your mind. The man's skin, the color of sun-warmed earth, is
clean-shaven but rough where a beard once rested...subtle signs of this
gleaning over of a past appearance reveal themselves throughout his carriage
to the trained or particularly observant.
        The diplomat presently wears a dress uniform of House Rastanyev,
navy pants with two golden stripes running down the pant legs to indicate
his service in the House Diplomatic Corps. A crisp white shirt, visible only
by its collar, is covered by a dusty blue thigh-length jacket with high
pogonyi (shoulder boards), the Rising Phoenix emblazoned in brilliant straw
yellow on them. A saffron sash that emerges from his right pogonyi to meet
an ornamental shield belt at his waist carries several decorations and
medals, including the bronze nine-pointed star that marks him as a member of
the Earl's Council.
        Although he doesn't seem to be terribly deft with a blade, the
diplomat carries a crystal-shard kindjal in a woven sheath of orange,
perhaps solely for the sake of compliment ing his ornate shield belt. The
hilt of the blade, a phoenix in flight, rests on his left hip...while
certainly a deadly tool, it does not bear the signs of significant use.

*Fahahd*
        The face of a hardened warrior, with steely eyes that would strike
fear into the hearts of even the toughest of the Imperial forces....not
quite. In fact, the man's face is disarmingly boyish, making his real age
hard to tell - the slightly slanted green eyes are posessed of a peculiarly
innocent intensity, bordering on bewilderment. The rest of his features are
slightly angular, giving him a gamine, somewhat feral air. The green eyes
peer out from beneath slender brows, over high cheekbones...the thin mouth
is generally set in a thoughtful expression. Hair of a soft ash blond is
cropped close, giving it the appearance of a marten's pelt.
        His form is leanly slender, rather than massively
muscled...heightening the impression that here is one who's left the end of
physical childhood not all that long ago. His shoulders are square though,
and his hands strong and deft. The general sense of his movement is not a
catlike strength, but a sense of barely contained energy, like a tightly
wound spring.
        He's neatly and soberly clad in the dark uniform of a member of the
Harkonnen Familiar Guard, with the silver chevrons that signal a Leutnants's
rank gleaming from collar and shoulder, and jackboots polished to a gleaming
gloss. A steel-hilted sword is belted to his side - not the usual kindjal,
but a long, straight length of steel, akin to the rapiers of old Earth. The
sword belt also holds a standard-issue shield generator, most often on and
humming contentedly. Despite the uniform and weaponry, his general air seems
more clerkish than martial.

*Andrei*
 Intense eyes dominate the face of this young man. The eyes that look at you
and constantly weigh you against something in this man's mind. The red
unruly hair, so typical to the Harkonnen family is kept half-long and tied
in a ponytail. Some strands still escape. The man's features show the
remains of several large scars the Harkonnen suks couldn't completely
remove. One in particular, once a nasty cut on over the right eye has not so
much been removed as well altered to give the man a very imposing look.
 He carries himself with great certainty, almost arrogance. His step like a
lord in his manor. His body, while fit is not overly musceled, making his
Sisselwehr parade-uniform look pictureperfect. The way he looks he could've
stepped off a recruitementposter. His parade-uniform is pristine and carries
ribbons and medals showing his many victories in wars and battles. A combat
model shield-belt prominent around his waist, shield softly humming.
Attached to it a broadsword which he seems to prefer over a rapier.

*Ursula*
 Blond hair whisps down from beneath this woman's uplifted veil, her eyes
bright blue and her gaze strong. Thin, pink lips uplift into a cautious,,
yet almost humoured smile. Each gesture she makes, each tilt of her head,
her very stance indicates she is well-born and bred.
 Her dress is ornate, made from a rich, plum velvet, its hems delicate
trailed with the same intricate lace patterns of her unbound veil. The
bodice is tight, enhancing her well-endowed cream-coloured curves. One hand
is bandaged tightly, from fingertip to wrist. Her fingers do not flex, and
she holds the hand at her midsection. About her neck is a black lace choker,
centred by a marquise-shaped onyx.

*Anakiel*
        This graceful youth is tall and slender, with the build of a dancer.
His long, silk-pale hair is pulled back firmly in a tail that reaches to his
waist, held by a long length of ink-blue ribbon. His complexion carries a
touch of olive in it, making his pale lashes and brows seem all the more
stark and strangely exotic, framing almond-shaped eyes of clear glass-green.
        He wears a pair of severely cut, almost military trousers the color
of ink, tucked into calf-height boots of shiny black leather. A tight black
shirt clings to his chest and arms, devoid of ornament save for a line of
dull silver buttons embossed with the Harkonnen ram. His belt is a
no-nonsense thing, black as well with a ram's head buckle, a few small
square pouches hang to either side upon it. Over it all, he wears a
lightweight drape of flowing blue silk edged in simple silver braid. It
reaches barely to his knees in front, a bit longer in back, giving the
illusion of both robes and cloak without the bulk. A new addition, on either
hip hangs the sleekly triangular shape of a full kindjal, their simple brass
hilts gleaming above sheaths of supple black leather. A compact shield
generator hangs at his waist as well..
        All in all, he is a painfully lovely creature... the only thing that
mars the otherwise perfect image is the slightly distant, often vapid look
in those deep green eyes of his.

*Ulricke*
        Ulricke Harkonnen is a tall young woman that appears to be in her
early twenties. At just an inch under six feet tall, she manages both
statuesque voluptuousness and lithe athleticism. There's nothing soft about
her, yet she maintains an almost aggressive femininity. Her white-blonde
hair is sleek and straight, falling to the shoulder and framing her face.
Her blue eyes tend to vary in shade depending on her mood; the more intense
her emotion, the more bright and intense they become. Her high cheekbones
and full lips provide her with an arrogant, dangerous beauty, an image
assisted by her confidant, predatory stance and movement.
        Never one to adhere to the restrictive fashions the ladies of the
Imperium, Ulricke wears a black body suit with flared collar and a zipped
front that is left open just below her throat. A personal shield generator
is belted at her hip, next to a short sword resting comfortably in a
scabbard, worn with the air of someone comfortable in its use.

*Cabal*
 Before you is an intimidating man, due not to his impressive physical
conditioning nor his slightly above-average size, but something much more
subtle and sinister than appearance. Black faceted Ixian eyes are set under
thick well-groomed brows, as disturbing as they are functional. His
countenance is one of refinement, the obvious product of noble breeding. He
is quite attractive, but something underneath his expressionless highborn
face is repulsive and ugly.
 He wears the field uniform of a Feldwehr officer consisting of a dark blue
tunic over a gray high-collared shirt, and loose, gray combat trousers
ending in polished black boots. His waist is wrapped by a crimson sash,
which partially covers a utility belt where a personal shield generator, a
long silver dagger, and a black-steel kindjal rest comfortably. His silver
epaulets display the rank of general, but his tunic is conspicuously bereft
of medals.

*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 a short,
glimmering silver tunic which sets off her hair and eyes nicely. The tunic's
neck is open to the waist and the sleeves are short, to keep her cool even
with the ablative Ixian stretchsuit covering almost all of her body. Soft
rubber soles on her boots make very little sound while giving her traction
and flexibility, keeping with her controlled, catlike mannerisms. She isn't
visibly armed, but for a trio of three-foot black tubes strapped across her
back in two places.


Traffic Loop -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)(#644RntJ)

     A wide plascrete roadway loops in a semicircle before the front gate of
the Harkonnen Embassy where ten slender flagpoles, each flying a large blue
banner, tower over the drive. A three-meter-high, spiked wall surrounds the
embassy grounds and, set into the wall, are two massive, embossed fanmetal
gates, topped by short spikes. The entrance to the embassy is guarded by
four Harkonnen troopers in blue and silver dress uniforms, maula pistols
held at port arms. Ground traffic busily fills the loop, picking up and
discharging passengers.
     In the center of the loop is a huge granite statue of a springing ram.

Players:
 Fahahd                                             Andrei
Objects:
 Rastanyev Limousine
Exits:
 Slidewalk <N> leads to Negara II Plaza -- Embassy District (Kaitain)
 Fanmetal Gate <SW> leads to Garden of Bitterblooms -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)

Fahahd reflexively snaps to attention, as eh noble appears. So much for
heading off duty, it seems.

A sharply dressed man practically painted in gold and blue steps out of the
Rastanyev limousine, closing the door behind him with a gentle *snick*
before it circles round to the Embassy garages to await his summons.
Blinking at his surroundings while absently re-adjusting his garments, he
waits patiently to be summoned or introduced.

Andrei stands slightly bored watching the limo pulled up. Hands thrust in
his pockets he watches someone emerge.

Fahahd swiftly steps forward to receive the Rastanyev. "My lord," he
murmurs, with a low bow. "If you will please follow me, I shall see if there
is anyone available to receive you?"

Satyavrat replies to the guard's approach with a deft nod of his head.
Glancing briefly at the man's collar, he says in a quiet but firm voice, "Of
course, Lieutenant. Your assistance is appreciated."

Fahahd inclines his head again to the lord, and sets off at a brisk pace.

Satyavrat's head turns to observe the curious figure with a body shield
activated standing by the side of the Embassy, but does not tarry as he
follows the guard into the compound.

Fahahd walks to the southwest and passes through the Fanmetal Gate.

You walk through the Fanmetal Gate.

Garden of Bitterblooms -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

     The roughly circular outline of the vast embassy garden is hidden
beyond a wild tangle of flowers and plants. A stone path snakes from the
outer walls of the embassy grounds, past a chain of lilyponds and hedges, up
to the doors of the embassy itself. Other footpaths stray deeper into the
garden, amid the white bitterblooms of Giedi Prime that lend the garden its
name. One trail leads the way to a gently sloping hill topped by a folly of
Giedi marble columns. Moss-covered stone steps reach up the hill in a
zig-zag pattern, bordered at every turn by marble statues and plascrete urns
overflowing with inkvine and translucent roses. An artful fountain,
fashioned to resemble a natural brook spilling over smooth stones, is set
into the side of the hill.
     A dense profusion of flora from many worlds creates intimate arbors and
bowers where vines and tree boughs are twined together and harbor small
grassy areas or benches. Elacca trees shade the lilyponds where miniature
alligators swim. A stand of Caladanian dogwoods shelter the bloom of
fragrant black lotus. Topiary hedges form living partitions throughout the
garden. A bridle path for horseback riding follows the curve of the
surrounding wall, provided with a variety of terrains ranging from smooth,
grassy field to steep, rocky slopes. The main building of the embassy is
visible through the foliage from almost everywhere in the garden: a squat,
ponderous structure built of white plascrete, with black ribbed buttresses
supporting the weight of the whole structure.

Players:
 Fahahd
Exits:
 Fanmetal Gate <NE> leads to Traffic Loop -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Burnished Doors <S> leads to Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

The musky sweet scent of the blooms hangs in the warm air, as the guard
paces swiftly down one of the smoothly-raked gravel paths. He does cast an
occasional glance over his shoulder to make sure that the noble in tow
continues to follow.

Satyavrat's gaze is set fully ahead; having passed the garden many times
before, he does not spare the surroundings any more attention than they are
due. His stride does seem to shuffle in an abrupt change of pace as he
passes the alligator pond, however...odd.

Fahahd walks to the south and passes through the Burnished Doors.

You walk through the Burnished Doors.

Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)(#492RatJ)

     The imposing domed hall is a tribute to the Harkonnen homeworld.
Directly overhead, a star-shaped skylight filters daylight through thick red
glass, casting an iron red radiance into the room like that of Giedi's
muted, red sun. At night, a myriad of tiny glowglobes form constellations
against the backdrop of the dark blue and silver dome. Underfoot, a mosaic
of tiny floor tiles creates an intricate, spiraling pattern, like a river of
azure and teal.
     Deep niches along the polished bluestone walls are lit by floating
glowglobes and filled with bronze statuary depicting famous Harkonnen
victories. Alternating with the niches are doors leading off into various
chambers and, on the east side of the room, a broad majestic staircase leads
up to a wide circular landing of white marble trimmed in gold. At the south
end of the Hall, twin scantily-clad, blonde slave girls stand on either side
of a pair of carved ivory doors.

Players:
 Fahahd                                             Ursula
Exits:
 Grand Staircase <U> leads to Obeshev Landing -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Translucent Doors <W> leads to Grand Ballroom -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)
 Spiral Stairs <D> leads to Abulurd Landing -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Ivory Doors <S> leads to Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Burnished Doors <N> leads to Garden of Bitterblooms -- Harkonnen Embassy
(Kaitain)

Andrei walks in from Garden of Bitterblooms through the Burnished Doors.

On the landing above, Anakiel emerges from the suspensor lift.
On the landing above, Anakiel descends the Grand Staircase.
Anakiel descends the Grand Staircase.
Anakiel has arrived.

Andrei enters the hallway being escorted back in by familiars.
Andrei climbs the Grand Staircase.
On the landing above, Andrei climbs up the Grand Staircase.
Andrei has left.

Anakiel pads down the steps, adjusting his communicator. He looks...kind of
pekid, really, but offers the visiting envoy the best smile he can.

Satyavrat follows closely at the heels of his accompanying guard, portfolio
clutched underarm and expression set into a neutral mask of pleasant
lucidity. If you were to approach him with a knife, he might blink...but he
might not, either. His eyes do not tarry on any person or location for too
long, taking everything in at a metred jolt to avoid making himself too
obtrusive.

Ursula has disconnected.

Fahahd gestures to Anakiel, with a graceful ripple of fingers. "Master
Anakiel Teslan, my lord," he murmurs, by way of introduction. "I believe he
maybe able to assist you."

Satyavrat's eyes circle round the hall and fall easily onto the diplomat
before him, as if pulled there against his will. "Pardon me," he inquires
with a gently light tone of voice, "but did you say 'Teslan,' sirrah?" A
ripple of surprise flicks across his placid expression, and it seems almost
shaded with amusement.

Anakiel sketches a bow that remains fluid and graceful despite whatever ails
the young man. "At your service, my lord," the diplomat murmurs courteously.
"How may I assist you this evening."

"Indeed, my lord," the Guard murmurs, letting his eyes half-lid as he steps
back.

On the landing above, Andrei sits down on the stairs, the guards finally
leaving him alone. Curiously he spies the goings on beneath him.

Satyavrat accepts this, and the young diplomat's greeting, with slight
inclination of his head that would seem to suffice for a nod. "I have come
on behalf of the Earl Rastanyev, whose service as I am in, Master Teslan,"
he says with an extra fleck of his tongue to accent the surname. "He wishes
me to see to the continued well being of relations between our Houses, and
to resolve any...conflicts?...that might have recently arisen between the
Lady Ulricke Harkonnen and the Earl's Noble sister." His purpose stated,
Satyavrat's expression melts back into an unruffled lake.

On the landing above, <<Andrei thinks: Uli huh? now /this/ is going to be
interesting...let's hear what he has to say...>>

Deadpan as always, the Leutnant glides silently back, though he does remain
relatively close to hand. He flicks a glance at the youth..perhaps
encouragement?

Fahahd senses, "Satyavrat twitches slightly but visibly in the left cheek as
you move, his muscles betraying him."

Anakiel processes that methodically. "I...see. Well, of course, the House of
the Ram would be happy to address any incipient difficulties before they
become problematic... what conflicts in particular are you referring to?"

You sense: Fahahd clearly notes your reaction...and allows a cool amusement
to well up in his gaze for a moment, before dropping it to the glossy
flooring beneath him.

"We refer," the Reeve says in a controlled tone of a voice that almost hides
his disappointment at the diplomat's plodding thought process, "to the
recent incident in the establishment known as Revelers, involving the House
Bajazet and an upset..." he pauses, taking a breath and raising an eyebrow
to express his own surprise-cum-amusement, "regarding a dance with the
Sultan."

<<Satyavrat thinks: This child is to take the place of Etta? Dear Baron, I
held you in more esteem than that.>>

Anakiel is indeed not the most intellectually deft of the Diplomatic Corps,
it would seem. "I see." He was there, come to think of it. Not that he has
any idea what happened. "Please, do go on."

On the landing above, Ulricke descends the Grand Staircase.
Ulricke descends the Grand Staircase.
Ulricke has arrived.

Ulricke comes down the stairs ever so casually, starting to walk past the
trio with a nod.

Satyavrat blinks twice at this idiot before him, drawing in a deep breath to
begin anew as the Lady Harkonnen herself descends the stairs. He turns his
head and pulls himself short of saying anything, bowing to the Lady as she
passes by.

Ulricke ah's. "Lord Satyavrat. What can House Harkonnen do to serve you this
day?"

Anakiel seems more than happy to relinquish the floor, as it were, to the
Lady.

Fahahd's voice is as low as always. "Lady Ulricke Harkonnen," he
murmurs..but leaves off the rest of the introduction, as she obviously has a
previous acquaintance with him.

"M'lady Harkonnen," the Reeve says in a light voice that is subtly painted
with relief and dread at once, "I was here at the orders of m'Lord the Earl
Rastanyev to inquire as to the status of the friendship between the Noble
Families of Garrashu IV and Giedi Prime, and to extend our renewed overtures
of amiability and confraternity. We have not had significant diplomatic
contact since the death of the late Lady Karposzev, I fear." He holds his
features in a pleasant smile that is becoming more and more strained by the
moment.

Ulricke tilts her head. "And you are concerned that my..displeasure with the
behavior of the Earl's sister jeapordizes this friendship between the
Houses?"

Fahahd could be one of the caryatids in the dining hall, save for the
flutter of breath. He's fixed his gaze into one of those thousand yard
stares - in most that blank look would indicate an utter lack of
attentiveness.

Satyavrat nods in a low gesture that brings his chin nearly to his chest.
"That was a concern of the Earl, m'Lady. It is also his belief that whether
such...displeasures...influence the official relationship of the Houses or
not, they are best resolved if at all possible. At the very least, he wishes
to reiterate that the House Rastanyev has always held the Harkonnen in its
highest esteem."

Anakiel retreats gratefully into the background. He'd probably retreat all
the way upstairs if he thought he could manage it, but some inkling of
propriety at least keeps him in the same room.

Anakiel senses, "Satyavrat's eyes fleck over to you as he nods, holding you
in his gaze for a few moments. There is something oddly inquisitive about
his glance, but his attention is returned too quickly to the Lady Ulricke
for you to probe it in any depth."

Ulricke says placidly. "This is an argument between girlhood friends,
nothing more, Lord Satyavrat. Tat'iana interfered with me without being
invited to do so, and quite plainly chose to take certain actions that would
be percieved as having preference for the enemies of myself and my house.
Should she wish to tender an apology, sincere and properly phrased, I would
be more than happy to extend invitation to her in welcome to this Embassy
once more. But until that time, she herself is not welcome save under the
most extreme of circumstances, or as part of a generally extended invitation
made to the noble populace."

Satyavrat responds quite positively to your straight-forward wording, and
pauses for a moment, smile hovering on his lips, before responding. "I
believe I understand, m'Lady, and I shall relay your explination to the Lady
Rastanyev, although I suspect she already understands it as it is. The Earl
will be most appreciative of your mature and regal manner, m'Lady; allow me
to thank you profusely on his behalf." He takes a breath, then begins again.
"May I ask, then, if the Lady Ulricke or any of her Noble Family plan on
attending the marriage of the Right Honourable Earl?"

Ulricke pauses. "I have yet to be informed that we have recieved our
invitation, Lord Satyavrat."

Satyavrat blinks twice. "I beg your pardon, m'Lady? Invitations were
extended to all notables on Kaitain well in advance. Perhaps someone else in
the House has not relayed the information to m'Lady as yet?"

Ulricke says, "This is quite possible. I have been somewhat distracted by my
own impending wedding plans, my lord."

Satyavrat nods. "Of course, m'Lady. We do indeed hope to see the Lady
present, however; I shall have an invitation sent specifically to m'Lady for
the purpose of clarifying dates and arrangements." Pressing business
complete, Satyavrat lets his expression sober slightly, his face becoming
rather nondescript as he awaits any further comment of the Lady Ulricke.

Ulricke inclines her head. "Thank you for coming, my lord." she looks around
noting, "I apologize for not seeing you conducted to the salon for this
business, but allow me to extend our hospitality however belatedly now.
Would you care for refreshment before you take your leave?"

"I would be delighted, m'Lady," Satyavrat responds with an easy grin. "I do
not believe I have had the pleasure of dining with you since the...ah,
incident with the Lady Bella of Moritani." His smile broadens as he
remembers the incident. "It has left a lasting impression, m'Lady."

Anakiel just watches the diplomatic exchange with those slightly-too-green
eyes of his.

Fahahd's eyes are a duller green, like certain agate stones..but he, too,
observes blandly. He does, however, pick his com off his belt and murmur
into it, ordering the slaves to prepare the Salon.

Ulricke rests her hand on the diplomat's arm and guides him to the salon.
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid my temper got the better of me that day, but then, we
Harkonnen are very unforgiving when it comes to a lack of civility, you see.
And torward those who gainsay our friendship."

Ulricke enters the Salon as twin slave girls hold the ivory doors open.
Ulricke has left.

Fahahd enters the Salon as twin slave girls hold the ivory doors open.
Fahahd has left.

The twin slave girls hold the ivory doors open for you as you enter.

Salon -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

     Dark wood panelling and a low, beamed ceiling impart a close feel to
this long chamber, but the mood is lightened by well-placed freefloating
suspensor lamps and the small indoor fountain that bubbles in the center of
the room. The fountain is a six foot column of greenish water splashing
freely in a broad metaglass basin with a wide, bench-like rim. Along the
western wall, a sideboard is arrayed with a wealth of food and drink for
every taste. The buffet is repleneshed frequently by attentive slaves, eager
to please.
     On the east side of the room, a low dais is lush with leafy potted
plants and a spacious chaise lounge is hidden in the intimate shadows of the
foliage. The rest of the room is furnished for relaxation and quiet
conversation. There are two tables: a round-table for dining and a
secluded-table placed off by itself in a dark corner. There is also a large,
overstuffed couch, and a matching pair of suspensor-chairs. The floor is
covered with thick rugs of dark blue and silver, and a heady blend of
sweet-smelling smoke and exotic perfume fills the air.

Players:
 Fahahd                                             Ulricke
Exits:
 Sloping Tunnel <D> leads to Arena Grandstand -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Embellished Portal <S> leads to Dining Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)
 Ivory Doors <N> leads to Giedi Hall -- Harkonnen Embassy (Kaitain)

Anakiel enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Anakiel has arrived.

Andrei enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Andrei has arrived.

Anakiel pads into the salon not far behind the guardsman.

Andrei slips into the salon, having refreshed himself somewhat. Nodding
politely to the guest he winks at Ulricke in the same fluent movement before
walking up to the liquor cabinet. As usual Fahahd and anakiel get totally
ignored.

Satyavrat's chest puffs out slightly as he inhales the fragrant air of the
Salon, his eyes sliding around the chamber to note small differences since
he last visited it. He follows slightly behind Ulricke in the manner of a
polite guest, waiting for his hostess to select a seating area or offer the
choice herself.

Fahahd trails after the pair of nobles in his usual soundless fashion. As
the Na-Baron enters, he announces softly, "My lord Andrei Harkonnen, the
Na-Baron." That said, he again drifts off into one of the more obscure
places in the room.

Ulricke does indeed, gesture. "Do be seated, Lord Satyavrat You've met my
brother, the na-Baron Andrei?"

Satyavrat turns lightly on the heels of his boots and dips into a neat,
graceful bow to the na-Baron, mouthing a quiet greeting. Replying belatedly
to Ulricke's suggestion, he steps down several levels to the
plant-surrounded dais and stands by a chaise while he replies. "We had not
previously been acquainted, m'Lady. Is the na-Baron newly arrived on the
Emperor's planet?" he asks, this question directed generically towards
either Harkonnen noble.

Anakiel finds the second most obscure corner of the salon and stands in it.
Ornamental, isn't he?

Andrei returns with a snifter of brandy, fielding the question himself. "Not
quite a new arrival..."he smiles taking a sip of his brandy "Just
too...um...busy to mingle..."

Satyavrat's eyes light upon the diplomat-youngling with a curious glance. He
sucks lightly on a back molar, silently *tsking* such reclusive behavior in
his thoughts.

Ulricke offers, "He's been on Kaitain for some time, but is somewhat
reluctant to engage in Kaitain's social events."

Fahahd is furniture, as all good household staff is when not called upon.

Ulricke says, "Andrei, this is Lord Satyavrat, diplomat of House Rastanyev
to the Noble Houses. He was present the evening I had that unfortunate
occurrence that nearly lead to my strangling that Moritani girl, do you
remember?"

Satyavrat nods. "A man of private bent, then, m'Lord na-Baron. The Earl's
cousin, the Lady Camilla, shares your bent...I daresay she has not visited
more than a handful of locations about Kaitain, and even those were at the
urging of one of her Family members."

Satyavrat's lips twitch upwards into an unbidden smile at the mention of
darling Bella, his mind choosing to provide him with vivid pictures of said
strangling and images of mangled custard-flesh.

Fahahd's head lifts a fraction at the mention of the lady Camilla. Interest
actually kindles his in eyes, for a moment.

Cabal enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Cabal has arrived.

Fahahd senses, "Satyavrat notices your movement with a quick shift of his
eyes. It his turn to be amused, although his good humor manifests itself in
not such a cold manner as your own."

The Warmaster enters devoid of any expression, brooding or otherwise, which
is unlike him. It as if he has just had an entirely too close brush with
death, and is somewhat shaken by it. He glances around as walks into the
Salon, and aside from the other notables here, it is Ulricke who commands
his attention and lifts his spirits.

Fahahd's expression has become almost pensive - perhaps he's musing on the
lady in question.

Anakiel has ensconced himself in one corner of the room where he's out of
the way. Still... as no one seems to have any real use for him, he takes it
upon himself to fade not only into the background, but completely out of the
room. He expects no one will miss him, after all.

Sen enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Sen has arrived.

Andrei nods at Ulricke's comment and returns Satyavrat's smile in the same
mechanical fashion. "She is quite right. My return from the front made me
want to spend time with my family. My sister has always been the light of
the Harkonnen entourage. I always figured that in her luminous presence my
person's absence would harldy been missed..."

Satyavrat returns Andrei's offering with an easy chuckle, observing, "The
Lady Ulricke is indeed quite the center of attraction," as he turns to eye
the room's new arrivals. Funny how each time he walks into this place the
room just fills right up.

Anakiel stops as the arrival of the Swordmaster sort of interrupts his
planned retreat from the room. Fussing silently, he takes up post on the
other side of the door instead.

Sen waits near the door, saying nothing to anyone, her little hands clasped
at her waist. The na-Baron and his sister occupy her attention.

Ulricke says, "Lord Satyavrat, this is our Swordmaster, Jaerkapitan Sen
Howym'n, and our Warmaster, Count Ferrel Cabal, my fiance."

Fahahd allows himself the tiniest cough, as the almost cloying incense
irritates his throat.

Ulricke indicates, "Lord Satyavrat is the diplomat to the Noble Houses for
House Rastanyev."

Cabal spares a thoughtful look to Andrei as he moves next to Ulricke, and
offers a polite and formal bow to the guest. He greets gruffly, "Lord
Satyavrat."

Andrei returns Cabal's look with a face that says "damn..so much for some
afternoon fun..."

Satyavrat smiles at the diminutive figure of the Swordmaster. "The
Jagerkapitan and I have been acquainted," he says with an odd high timbre to
his voice. "Count Cabal, I am sure we've met briefly at some state function
or another. Good evening."

Sen gives only the slightest nod. "Lord Diplomat."

Satyavrat's eyelids close for half a beat at the use of his former title,
but he returns the Swordmaster's nod.

The General recalls matter-of-factly, "The Landsraad High Council meeting
about the excessive policing by Sardaukar, and the Emperor's coronation, I
believe, Lord Satyavrat." He turns an approving smile to Lady Ulricke then,
before nonchalantly looking around the Salon again. If his reputation didn't
precede him, he would seem pleasant and gentle as noble is expected to be,
socially, at least.

Satyavrat's hands hover over his selected chaise, and after making a quick
double check to make sure that he has bowed to everyone he might need to,
seats himself per the Lady Ulricke's prior request. He nods at the
Warmaster, making a noncomittal affirmative sound.

Ulricke likewise seats herself, inviting others to do so as well.

Sen doesn't seat herself, but does glide around to stand near Ulricke,
discreetly in the background.

Cabal does not seat himself, however, and instead apologizes cordially to
Satyavrat and Ulricke, "My Lord, My Lady, if you will excuse the rudeness,
the Na-Baron and I have some matters of import we must discuss." Which isn't
to suggest that what is currently being discussed isn't important as well,
just that it would be better to keep the two topics separate. He looks to
Andrei then, expectently.

Wondering if this is petty revenge for earlier, Ulricke looks to Cabal, and
then to Andrei. "Of course." she says graciously.

Satyavrat acknowledges this with a quiet nod. He is, after all, at the
hospitality of the Family Harkonnen.

Andrei rolls his eyes as he slugs down his brandy. "This better be important
warmaster..."

Ursula enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Ursula has arrived.

Fahahd announces, reflexively, "The Baroness Ursula Harkonnen,"

Satyavrat rises from his chaise at the Guard's tolling and dips into a low
bow befitting the Lady's position, waiting quietly to be introduced.

Cabal does not bother to comment on that, preferring to remain civil in
front of company. He gestures to Andrei to accompany him with a smile that
is rather sinister in design, and he turns to leave the Salon.

Anakiel stands not far inside the door, hands folded. He looks distinctly
pekid, overall, and keeps glancing at the doors as though he'd like to leave
too.

Ulricke immediately rises. "Good evening, Mother." she says. Unsure as to
whether she should yield her job as hostess (she's been doing it for so
long), she offers, "Please join us?" If her mother wishes to pick up the
reins from that point, so be it. "This is Lord Diplomat Satyavrat of the
Rastanyev."

"Very, very good, Lieutenant," Ursula murmurs as .she. leads her two-guard
escortment into the room. She looks about, lips curled into a curious smile.
For her moment, her gaze lingers upon Andrei...but only for a moment. The
other guests, her daughter...all fall into view. "Well then, I see we have
.quite. a gathering this evening, hmmm?"

She glances back at Fahahd for a brief moment, arching a brow. "Do be a
dear...and..um...guard well, hmm?"
Andrei smiles politely. "It seems it is...please excuse me for my rude
departure. I will leave you in the capable hands of my sister."

Andrei eyes Ursula like one would eye a rotting corpse and suddenly is glad
Cabal needed his attention.

Anakiel trails out after Andrei... not that he remains to pester him once
he's out of the Salon, instead scuttling off upon whatever errands he can
find to do.

Next to a rather large herbacious specimen set low in the salon, the
Rastanyev Reeve says, "Lady Baroness, a pleasure to meet you in person
following your return to the Imperial Planet," his expression politely bland
and his eyes graciously deferring. A slight rush of blood can be seen
spreading silently across his already tanned cheeks. Nobility is one thing,
but the elusive Baroness Harkonnen? How...interesting. He turns to Andrei
nods at the na-Baron's departure amiably.

Fahahd offers a patently forced smile. "Indeed, my lady Baroness," he
murmurs.

The Warmaster offers a nod of acknowledgement to Ursula on his way out of
the Salon, but not much more as he seems somewhat impatient to speak with
Andrei.

Anakiel has disconnected.

Andrei walks to the north and passes through the Ivory Doors.
Andrei has left.
Cabal walks to the north and passes through the Ivory Doors.
Cabal has left.

Ulricke looks back to Satyavrat. "I often feel sorry for the Earl and his
sister...lacking such a large family."

The tension is noted; how could a mother not notice the...rather miffed
departure of her son. "Oh, dear...he was always emotional as a child."
Ursula sighs and shakes her head, turning to face the Diplomat. "But then
again, children always are; it is most unfortunate when you are separated
from them; you cannot guide them as you should, mmm? Oh..oh, yes..yes, I
have heard so much of you from my husband. Such...wonderful things." She
coughs, and extends a hand delicately her hand to be kissed. "He seems to
mention 'turnips' quite frequently. Although...I .cannot. imagine why."

Rhedek enters the Salon from Giedi Hall.
Rhedek has arrived.

"The Earl's family mainly chooses to remain on Garrashu IV," Satyavrat
replies to the first comment directed to him. "Or, as is the case with the
Lady Ivanova, they are not permitted to leave." He returns his gaze to the
Lady Ursula with a raised eyebrow. "Turnips, Lady Baroness? Perhaps the
Baron refers to the rather spicy vegetable dip served when the Lady de
Biencourt first called upon the Rastanyev. She seemed quite impressed by
it." The comment is framed in sweet innocence. Turnips, indeed.

Again playing herald, the Leutnant announces, in a clear tenor, "Colonel
Maas-Stroheim."

Glad that he has not re-seated himself yet, Satyavrat offers the entering
Colonel a small, controlled bow at his waist.

Sen observes the Baroness' hand rather intently from behind Ulricke's
settee.

Arching a brow. "Oh, yes...the Baron's...concubine," Ursula intones, her
head tilting back slightly as she laughs. "Well, I cannot say that your
turnip would be the first...nor last...ever to be dipped in such sauce,
hmmm?"

        Yes, yes, quite the golem of flesh and sinew invoked by the
Lieutenant's words is the Colonel, resplendent in the navy uniform and
platinum rank-stars of a Harkonnen military officer; as if sprung from a
circle he appears at the doors, attended to by the pretty slave with drink
and glasses on tray only to be waved off by the barbed hook that replaces
the void of his right hand. Without further word does he pass this girl, and
in viewing the Baronial personage execute the bow of a rumbling giant, the
chain-braid hanging from his shoulder tinkling musically with kinetic
ambulance.

Fahahd resists the temptation to bristle at the implied slight to Sylvie by
fixing his gaze on the fountain.

Ulricke delicate remains from snickering, and lets Mother continue her
hostessing.

Ursula glances over her shoulder at new arrival and nods absently.
"Colonel... such a delicate morsel you are. Do give the Baroness a kiss."
 She smiles patiently...and expectantly, and taps her cheek.

Through great force of will, the Reeve contains his expression of unrefined
amusement, taking a moment to compose a reply. "The dip is a favorite of the
House chef's, m'Lady Baroness, although I do not care much for it. As such,
I tend to refrain from it, as interesting as the flavour might be."

<<Satyavrat thinks: And I suppose that bohemoth of flesh will serve as an
alligator if need be. Great Mother, why do I return here time and again?>>

        He follows as bidden, without hesitation, the grace of his
mountainous form surprising beneath the weight of muscle and sinew. And in
doffing the slanted mortarboard helm eases his bulk to one knee, planting
the most delicate peck there upon the rosy cheek of his cherished overlord's
mate. Chaste, polite, and terribly correct.

Satyavrat follows his Rastanyev-bred sensibilities and averts his eyes as
the Colonel kisses the Lady Baroness, taking this opportunity to reseat
himself near Ulricke.

Squealing with delight, Ursula beams. "Oh, I .do. so love Boris for his
wonderful choice in boys!" With two fingers, she reaches out and squeezes
his cheeks. "Oh, yes, you and I shall be .very. close."

        One can almost hear the death knell ringing already.

Fahahd watches the Baroness demurely from under his lashes...not sure he
believes what he just saw. PErhaps it's only more proof as to just how bent
the members of this House are.

        With a muted smile the big man bows his head, and rumbles to his
feet by the device of all that cumbersome biological machinery; again
donning his hat and saluting the Baronial personage with the intact and
gloved fist he takes up station a few paces from the lady's position. One
thumb tucked in his belt near the generator, the other lightly cupping the
pommel of the ancient kindjal. And he quickly calcifies, it would seem, into
the sentient statue of the watcher.

Sen drums her fingertips against one-another impatiently.

Satyavrat observes this entire interplay with an expression of veiled
amusement. Colonels in the Rastanyev Embassy are either quiet guards or
killed by the Earl himself. Interesting permutations these Harkonnens play
with...perhaps that's why he finds himself here so often.

"So," Ursula exclaims, clapping her hands together with joy. "What goes on ,
hmmm? I have been kept away .so. long; Company is...I mean, has...been such
a rarity over the years. I cannot help be overwhelmed by such a gathering,
mmm? Drinks all around. Come, come now! You, the one guarding the water
fountain." She beckons towards Fahahd, one brow cocked. "If you aren't going
to watch over my body, you might as well assist on intoxicating it, don't
you think?"

Ulricke looks to Satyavrat, and then smiles. "My lord, may I ask what you
were told about the incident at Reveler's?"

As pliant as always, the Leutnant obediently pads over to the Baroness. He
gets to play waiter again, oh joy. "What would my lady Baroness wish?" he
asks, attempting to inject the proper humility into his tone.

Satyavrat swallows and turns to Ulricke, a moment coming out of his reverie.
"I beg your pardon, m'Lady?" he asks, momentarily distracted by the
Baroness's rowdy call for drinks. "Oh! Ah, the Lady Tat'iana related events
as she had seen them, fact by fact, at my request. She possesses quite an
extraordinary memory due to her schooling amongst the Bene Gesserit
witches."

Ulricke oh's. "Well, if it helps, I wouldn't really gut her and send her
intestines to her brother to be used as chandelier hangings."

Ulricke says, "It would get all over his carpet and be a terrible expense to
clean. Believe me, I know."

Sen glances towards the ceiling thoughtfully.

Satyavrat nods, returning to the moment quickly. "The Earl is most upset
when his carpets are spoiled," he says solemnly. "When the pretender-Baron
of House Venhei spat upon them, the Earl nearly declared Kanly then and
there, but instead contented himself to watch the Family die out from his
position on the Landsraad High Council. They seem to have taken it upon
themselves in earnest," he notes with a grin.

Pondering over this question for a moment, Ursula brings a finger to her
cheek. "Tell you what," she answers, taking a step closer to Fahahd and
slipping him a note. "Take this to the Baron," she murmurs, a sly smile on
her face, "and then send me one of the serving boys...no...girls...to fetch
me my wine. And then .you. may have the night off."

Ulricke sighs airily, "It seems to be the fashion to declare kanly right and
left these days."

Fahahd nods soberly, as he attends to Ursula's whim. "You are most kind, my
lady Baroness," he intones, with all the gravity of an Imperial Church
priest. "It shall be done precisely as you say."

"Several Houses have been showing particular restraint, m'Lady," Satyavrat
notes innocently, though he does not deign to name them.

Ulricke laughs. "Oh, we're no better. There's the ancient Atreides feud,
though Father doesn't encourage it much, and our current difficulties with
the Bajazet."

Satyavrat nods attentatively as Ulricke brooches the subject of Landsraad
politicking. "It is the Earl's hope that these difficulties are resolved
soon. Neither House seems keen on protracted hostilities," he observes with
a quiescent expression.

A slave girl, scantily clad, enters the room carries a platter of
wine-filled goblets, and makes her way about the room. Ursula takes one and
smiles, sipping gently.

Much more intent she is on watching Ulricke's politicking. Very good she is,
she thinks to herself. She drinks deeply of her glass, and smiles.

Fahahd walks to the north and passes through the Ivory Doors.
Fahahd has left.

Sen, significantly, allows the Baroness to be served by a slave rather than
pouring for her.

Ulricke ah's. "Well, as I said, we give little attention to the Atreides
fued, though I fear the Bajazet kanly will likely remain for some time. Most
especially if they cannot maintain themselves civilly in a public place."

"What's all this about then, Ulricke my dear?" Ursula says, swirling her
wine about in her goblet gently. "I am .much. too sheltered from what has
been going on as of late."

<<Ursula thinks: And then some.>>

        The colonel himself takes a goblet, letting the bowl of it settle in
the rounded space made by his barbed hook, the intact hand still resting on
the kindjal. Simply for decoration, it seems, as he soon forgets the
presence of the goblet. In response to Ulricke's words, though, he allows
his silence to be breached by the the seismic grumbling of his tongue. "It
would seem that house is not the only one to bear servants forgetful of
their manners."

Satyavrat treads softly, having no doubt been forewarned of this subject by
the Lady Tat'iana and her witch's training. "It is my understanding that the
Sultan is under quite a bit of pressure, having supplanted a warhawk as the
House's Head." He defers politely as Ursula speaks, taking one of the large
bejewelled goblets from the slave girl as she passes, quaffing deeply of it
without bothering to use a snooper. After all, the consequences of poisoning
a Rastanyev noblemen would offer more protection than any little bit of
metal that could be easily tricked.

Ulricke ah's. "I have not the full briefing on the kanly with Bajazet,
Mother." she says regretfully, "But I'm sure you could recieve a full report
should you request it."

<<Satyavrat thinks: She doesn't know of the Bajazets? Where on earth has
this woman been for the past years?>>

(OOC) Satyavrat chuckles. "Erm, where on Kaitain?"

"I would so appreciate it," Ursula murmurs. "Too much time has passed, it
would seem." She smiles wryly, draining the remenants of her wine. "I used
to be quite adroit in matters of state. Perhaps too adroit."

Satyavrat accepts the Baroness's comments with a slight hike of his
eyebrows.

Turning towards Sen, Ursula brings a pale, thin finger to her cheek and
strokes it. Her cup-bearing hand she extends slowly towards the other, and
she smiles. "I seem to be empty," she purrs. "Would you be a...dear...and
refill for me, hmmm?" She watches Sen curiously, intently; so many secrets
are locked with this one, she thinks, and so many more yet to be fulfilled.

Ulricke has disconnected.

Sen turns towards the sound like a bitterbloom turns away from the sun. She
regards the Baroness with a queer blank look for a second or two before
gliding over to her as if on rails. "Of course, Baroness." She pours with
delectable precision, then withdraws again.

Satyavrat notes Sen's precision with a careful eye and takes the opportunity
to insert what he hopes will be idle chatter. "Have you been trained as a
bartender, Swordmaster?"

"I believe," Ursula says, chuckling at Sen's non-verbal threat, "that Sen
here is saying she is no more trained as a bartender, than you are as a
Diplomat, turnip-sewer. Or is that .Lord. turnip sewer?" She hesitates for a
moment, batting her lashes. "Oh, where are my manners...that was just
naughty of me. Don't you think?"

Sen replies abstractly, as if reciting formulae. "A Swordmaster must be
educated in many fields, Lord Diplomat. I take pride in my work."

Satyavrat's expression sweetens. "I seem to be known quite well for my
turnips, Lady Baroness," he says, shaking his head slightly. "Very telling
of the impressions that I make. But what, m'Lady, is a turnip sewer?" He
even goes so far as to proffer a light laugh, something of a cross between a
coarse snicker and a chuckle, with just enough of the latter to make the
listener quite unsure of what she has just heard.

(OOC) Satyavrat says, "Is that a turnip in your pocket, or are you....never
mind."

        There's the softest hissing sound from behind the Baroness, in the
Colonel's direction - the metal-on metal scraping as he's rid himself of the
goblet, and the barbed hook rests atop the shield control.

<<Satyavrat thinks: Adroit, eh? More like a rambling, floundering fool like
the man that beds you.>>

"In all honesty," Ursula murmurs, raising the glass to her lips, "I would
not know. I was brought up with servants, not trained to be one." She shrugs
helplessly, a wide smile upon her face. "To each his own, I suppose. It is
.good. that you endeavour to attempt to overcome the burden that is your
life. I commend you for it, I do."

Sen seems unperturbed, examining and uncorking another bottle with a twist
of her wrist and fingernails in the cork.

Satyavrat spares a glance at the Colonel, suddenly made more aware of the
goblet in his own hand. He rises it slowly to his lips and takes another
drink, although he sips this time rather than drinking so whole-heartedly.
"I find the burden of my life quite light at times, almost unbearably so.
How terrible it is to never take one's self seriously." He turns to inspect
Sen's next choice of vintage.

Ursula says, "But enough of this idle banter. Come, sit, drink...my
husband...ahh..assures me you are a man of...hmmm..character."

<<Ursula thinks: Dear Ursula, how you manage to leave out the colourful
words and more descriptive terminologies is beyond me.>>

Satyavrat rises from his position near the foliage on command and joins the
Lady Baroness obligingly. "The Lord Baron's judgement is quite welcome," he
says amiably as he reseats himself. "I've not had much time to spend with
his Lordship, but he commands much respect from the Landsraad." He smile
blithely, appending, "Or at the very least, he commands many a vote beyond
his own. Respect often does not enter the floor."

        And from behind the Baroness, the tip of the Colonel's hook very
softly begins tapping against the brass housing of the generator at his
belt.

"Votes are more valuable than respect, sir," Ursula murmurs. "Votes are what
.gain. you respect. It is this that everyone seeks; they care not a whit of
what others think of them, and rightly so."

"Votes," the Reeve concedes, "...and money. The Earl fosters no illusions
that his possession of the Ecaz contract has earned him many a 'loyal'
friend. CHOAM and the Landsraad, m'Lady Baroness, the Landsraad and CHOAM.
How interchangeable they are."

"Very perceptive," Ursula answers, nodding her head. "They are as
interchangeable as a woman's bed, or a man's...every once in a while, the
dip changes, and new tastes...and friends, are abound. A very strategic game
it is. A very profitable one. And not to mention, dangerous." She smiles
innocently, lowering her gaze slightly. "But I am but merely a woman, so I
know not of what I speak."

Satyavrat leans back in his chair, still toying with his first goblet of
wine. "I'd not known that such ideology could exist in a woman who mothered
the Lady Ulricke, or in a House that employs the Jagerkapitan," he says,
nodding at the Weaponsmaster. "Your insights are quite incisive, m'Lady
Baroness, and I assure you that this is not merely idle praise."

        "Wisdom is a quality few wish to see in another's house," rumbles
the Colonel from his perch.

Satyavrat turns to face the source of the sour comment. "The Rastanyev are,
as they have been, politically neutral, Colonel. The wiser our peers are,
the greater the chances are for the success and prosperity of the Imperium
at large." The man's serious expression makes one consider whether or not he
speaks everyday propoganda or if he honestly believes it.

"And the more capable they are," Ursula responds, swirling the remenants of
her wine about in her glass, "of staying neutral, until only one stands in
victory. Too..cautious...afraid, perhaps, to make a choice, a decision.
Think of it in the fashion of farming, Lord Diplomat...knowing what is ripe
to be plucked, and knowing what to cultivate, until it is ready to be
reaped, hmmm?"

        "A decidedly military strategem," the Colonel rumbles in agreement.
"How quaint."

Sen glances pointedly at Rhedek and leans over Ursula's right shoulder to
refill her glass.

Satyavrat breaks the serious tone of the conversation with a low chuckle,
perhaps a slight bit hysterical in its tones due to his drink. Certainly, a
flush has appeared beneath the warm tan of his skin. "I find it interesting
that so many metaphors have been put before me in terms of farming," he
notes. "Aside from a brief stay at a winery, I've never picked a fruit or
planted a seed in my life." He nods in agreement to the Baroness, however,
conceding her point. "I do believe your analogy is accurate, however,
m'Lady. Surely we all invest in the future, as does any wise farmer."

        The Colonel watches the Reeve with a dark expression under the visor
of his cap , returning to silence breached only by the gentle tapping of his
hook.

Satyavrat sets down his goblet in between the Colonel's taps with a loud,
jarring noise. "I am afraid," he says slowly, "that I must return to the
Embassy for the evening. I do not wish to wear upon the hospitality of the
Noble Family Harkonnen."

        "My Lady Baron," says the Colonel suddenly after the slight
crackling of a commpulse settles into his ear, ""I have been summoned by the
Warmaster. If you will excuse me...?"

"Of course, of course, it is late," The Baroness says tiredly. "I am tired,
and I need my beauty rest. For my beloved husband. Thank you, Lord...ahh,
Diplomat, for your candid converstation."

        He nods, and then offers his arm. "Shall I escort you, then?"

[OOC:You may safely disregard much of the following.]

He who?

I'd think that would be obvious.

        Think again, Sr. Tab.


        Then e're shall you be left in suspense.


                        But perhaps I like this side better.

"The pleasure was mine, m'Lady," the diplomat says as he