The strategy was a simple one. The cameras would transmit to the helicopters initially, then they'd switch to tapes for while they were inside Citadel Kirby.
An even dozen reporters were allowed in and they were met with a single individual.
The matter of whom to arrange to meet the press had been discussed. Some wanted smooth and elegant. Others wanted tough and powerful to project a strong image.
What they'd settled on was someone who was experienced militarily (which satisfied the dwarves), somewhat culturally refined and a member of the Court (which satisfied the elves), could appreciate good food (which satisfied the halflings), and was sufficiently alien looking to remind the human investigators that this wasn't a group that necessarily knew the local cultures well enough to blend in.
Who they'd picked was General Tchon, someone fairly charismatic and experienced. Someone who had spent the past decade protecting the borders of the Ranspace system aboard the very Citadel now hovering over the Sea Of Japan.
Tchon being a unique creature was quite notable. Standing over seven feet in height, with smoky black hairless skin that had a glimmering "polished" look to it, and a thick musculature under his quilted space-armor, there was no mistaking General Tchon for anything that was likely found on this world. He was, in fact, a genasi. A child of the elemental plane of Earth.
Finding himself confronted with a bunch of glass-tipped cylinders and gaping heralds (as he understood them to be) was a bit outside his area of expertise, but he could cope.
"Gentlebeings," said Tchon in his best diplomatic voice, "if you will follow me. I am General Tchon. We will start with the aerie and work our way down."
"W-w-what's that sword for?" A human female asked, pointing at the two handed sword strapped across his back.
"I was told to wear my best uniform, and my favored weapon is a part of it," said Tchon, walking away and forcing the press to follow.
"Jerald Streama, Fox News. What about these statues?" asked one of the males, drawing the others' attention from their host to the statue-lined corridor.
"Ah," said Tchon. "These are representitives of various faiths of the Rangard peoples. That is Corellon of the Light Elves, his daughter Eilistrae of the Dark Elves, Bastet of the Catfolk, B'hamut of the Dragons - not to scale of course, and so on."
"You have many faiths," noted another reporter who didn't give his name.
"Rangard is a nation of many people from many different backgrounds," said Tchon. "We have many different races and subcultures within our own unified culture."
"What of this one?" said a reporter, pointing to something that looked vaguely disturbing.
"I believe that is the faith of Tennyson, which is the beholders. I'm not that familiar with all the various faiths myself, and we rarely have beholders on board anyway. Might we continue?"
"What are your plans for the Earth? Are you here to eat us?" demanded a newswoman, thrusting her microphone at Tchon's face as if it were a weapon. "What are your sinister plans for our poor world?"
"Excuse me?" Tchon asked. Then, very thoughtfully, he bit off the end of the reporter's microphone and chewed at it. "Hmmmm. Not very tasty. I thought it might be some cultural thing I hadn't addressed."
The newswoman looked at the chomped off bit of microphone then glared at the representitive of an oppressive and violent institution.
"As I said, we should start at the aerie," said Tchon.
The elevator turned out to be a big disc of stone which apparently had no trouble hanging there in midair much less carrying the weight of the press corps.
The "aerie" turned out to be a set of rock ledges overlooking a central pit. It also turned out to have two dragons.
There were a few screams as one of the odd lumps unfolded and looked them over, sniffing as it did so.
*Entirely too noisy. Let me sleep, I've had a hard night.*
"Telepathy?!" said another woman.
"Well duh," said the Jerald Streama. "You're just now noticing that we're all able to understand the General and each other despite not all of us being able to speak a common language?"
Shocked looks as apparently not all of them had registered this detail yet.
*Of course it's mindspeaking.* The dragon opened his mouth, revealing a lot of sharp teeth. *Do you think that a dragon's mouth could handle your language? Silly humans.*
*Not all humans are that bad,* said a black rock as she stretched out and looked them all over. *Hmmm. As I understand it you are heralds of your societies. My name is Tarre and I am a young black dragon. Do you have any questions for me?*
"Nuke Usagimaru, NTV. What do you eat, dragon-san?"
*Mainly fish and water plants. I'm also fond of pickles.* Tarre bobbed her head. Such a nice polite question. Maybe they could be friends!
"Hah! I bet you eat innocent children! Isn't that why you're here?" said a woman, thrusting what remained of her microphone at the black dragon.
*W-what?!* Tarre looked shocked somehow. *No. Some of my kind are quite nasty about such things, but I'm a good dragon!*
"HAH!" the reporter sensed weakness and pressed her attack. "With teeth like that. I'll bet you swallow innocent babies whole. How many humans have you killed, beast?"
*sniffle.*
The news reporters (with one exception) stared at the sniffling dragon, images of fierce dragons dining on the flesh of young maidens getting a few cracks in them.
*Oi. Now you've done it,* sent the male dragon, curling his head under his wings.
*WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!* The black dragon began crying in earnest, sending streams of tears out. *I'm not a bad dragon. I'm NOT! You're so mean!*
Tchon loomed over the reporter who had spoken. "Look you, you may be a representitive of your culture, but there is just no reason for you to needlessly antagonize the poor child. One more outburst out of you, and you'll be escorted off the premises."
The reporter did her best to glare back. General Threatens Free Press joined Dragon denies baby-eating habit as potential headlines.
"Great," murmurred Nuke to the camera. "A chance to personally interview a dragon and discover what these beings think like, shot completely. Hmmm. General Tchon? She said she was young, how old is dragon-san in human years?"
"Uhmf," said Tchon thoughtfully. "I'd guess she'd be about ready for puberty so whatever that corresponds with in humans."
"I thought so. A child," said Nuke to the camera. "Explains the reaction somewhat, doesn't it?"
The reporter with the bitten off microphone heard this and glared at her colleague and added Children Forced By Magic Kingdom To Fight In Wars to potential headlines.
Tchon headed back to the elevator. "Next section is:"
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(Posted Mon, 01 Mar 2004 16:30)
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