Intergalactic Summit

If recent events in the wine cellar of a notorious pirate are to be a guide, anti-Nation forces might experiment with introducing their targets to Crash. It seems to light them on fire. Mr. Shogaatsu to the rescue of All Mankind - who would have thought? Keep your footwear away from his stomach discharges, however....

And, really, why steal the furniture? Do they not have ottomans in Stain?

Well it was certainly... an experience.

Yup.

Incorrect.

Mr. Shogaatsu arrived and immediately began his narcotic consumption. During these events, he released a chemical agent that dissolved clothing. It also reacted with the materials my hair is constructed of. The hair itself caught fire, and nothing else. Aside from a particularly purple-colored drink, I am not aware of any narcotic consumption.

This expedited our withdrawal procedure.

I thought Sanshas were more fond of cute felines than drugs?

Or is that just Citizen Avhar?

It will certainly be a night to remember. Morwens performance as breathtaking. The ending of the night was... well ehh...
Interesting to say the least.

Ishtvaan if you're reading this. You owe me a pair of Sujarento snakeskin boots. The rest of my attire will be classified as collateral damages

I am glad I left when I did. Nice pad, but nothing notable in the arena of gambling or even things to wish you could gamble on.

That is a little unfair I guess. Civire are known to have parties without wagers. They're called meetings. Both have the common unifying factor of not tending to leave the guests naked. So to reiterate; glad I left before I got some intimate visual knowledge of how some individuals choose to wear their clones.

It's a blur. My clearest memories are of a naked Gallois cowboy sitting at the bar in his boots smoking a large medicinal cigarette; and bits of small intestine Mr. Shogaatsu coughed onto my footwear. When the cowboy and the guiding hand headed for the reflection pool, I grabbed an indentured teenage Sebiestor named Grigor and escaped through a postern gate before more wiggly things were summoned from the depths of a cutlery-throwing madman's bowels. I regret that I couldn't have saved more of the staff, but Synthia had already gone, I have a thing for teenage Sebiestor boys, and a quick exit seemed most prudent.

It was a frightful run up to the landing pad. All the way, we kept hearing a beast alternately scream "I'm melting" and "Silas" at inhuman volumes.

Oh, and there was a girl with a dislocated shoulder and a bloody gash on her forehead. I told her not to go down into the cellar, but she didn't listen. It's like those horror holoreels. They never listen. I hope the poor thing is all right. That was before the wiggly things on my boots, as I recall.

Did half a dozen naked Nation cyborgs really walk passed me carrying a stolen.. table? Yes.

Yes, they did.

It was quite an event, My thanks for the invitation Sister Vitalia.

And to whomever owned that body of Ston for the leg.

Well that was certainly an interesting evening. Haven't had a night like that since college.