[RPG] [BT] [Irombrozia] Paul's Last Resort - And His New Life

[Marc J.]

(OOC Info: Marc is the King of Irombrozia and Paul is his older brother,
mostly famous from the East Island realm of Oligarch. When Paul left the
island, another character was created there using the name "Paul", so in
order for him to return, he had to be deleted/re-created)

*The King's Estate in Bolkenia*

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Marc asked, a little
worried. "I'm sure Distorted would be thrilled to have you... you might get
a Council position... heh, you could be a Banker again!"

A small grin crept across Paul's face at his younger brother's joke.
'Banker... would be nice... but Widfara needs help.'

"I'm sure... begin the procedure." Paul says, steelling himself for the most
terrible tormet that was to come.

...well, if you're a man, it's terrible torment and torture... ladies, this
is the same as just getting ready for the new day!

"Oh... My... Gawd!" Exclaimed the overtly... different... stylist. "That
black hair is just 2 die 4!"

"Paul," Marc grinned, "I never knew you!"

"Oh shut up and..." Paul began, before the scented lotion was applied to his
face.

"Welp, we can't make your hair down long, but we can cut it down and make it
look a bit more 'pretty'!"

At the word 'pretty', the stylist let out a girlish sqeal.

"Oh, you'll be the talk of the town! You'll turn all the boy's heads... just
like I do... :sigh: Just a little more foundation, some rogue for the
cheeks... *and* you're finished!"

The stylist stood almost on tiptoe as Paul, erm, excuse me:
*Paulia*grudeningly examined
*herself* in the mirror.

"Looks good..." Paul said, in a high pitched voice. "Hopefully, it'll fool
the guards down at the docks.

"Oooohhh! I'm sooo happy you like it! C'mon now silly, we've got *
accesserizing* to do!"

With that, Paulia looked back helplessly to his brother, only to see him
doubled up with laughter.

"Youre the King..." Paulia whispered, "make him let me go!"

"No... can... do... little *sister*! Not until you've picked out some more
outfits!"

...and, with that, Paulia and the stylist headed arm-in-arm to Irombro
City... and His Royal Magesty collapsed into his favorite chair, holding his
sides from laughing so hard.

----

*Docks of Irombro City*

"Sooo... Paulia, I hope you know what you're doing." Marc began, examining
the complex make-up that would have to hide his brother's identity... at
least until the ship reached East Continent waters.

"I'm sure... Widfara must be supported... or NATU will die." Paulia said
firmly. "Plus, I've heard rumours of a *bumbling Keithson* being seen in
Fontan. Someone needs to keep an eye on Tom... and make sure he stay where
we need him."

A silent moment of understanding passed between the two... umm, brother and
sister.

"Farewell Marc... you've created a wonderful realm. Perhaps, god- I mean,
Qyrvagg willing, I'll return to enjoy it."

With that, Paulia walked - unsteadily on high heels - onto the ship that
would take him to Fontan.

----

*Docks of Fontan, last night*

"We've arrived..." The Captain of the ship whispered, "...and it's night,
like you asked. Why in the nine hells you made us wait until night, I
suppose I'll never know, but we're here... and safely, by some miracle!"

Nodding her head, Paulia opened her eyes and saw the lights of Fontan City
once more.

As the ship pulled into the dock, a small group of men stood nearby - almost
as if they where expecting this ship and this passenger. Once the bags where
unloaded, the passenger disembarked... to find the men staring at her
uncertainly. A small murmur went up amoungst the several dozen men standing
around.

"A woman?"

"Who is she?"

"We where told to expect a..."

"Quiet!" A large, and largely scarred, man stepped from out of the crowd.

"Who are you?" The man said, with a belated "ma'am" added on.

Paulia looks over the assembly with a careful eye. Walking with a sure
purpose, she walks up to the scarred man and whispers in his ear, so that *
only* he can hear, two syllables: "Neigh-two"

Startled, the man takes a step back and reconsiders the woman standing in
front of him.

"Let's go men! We have business at the Old Estate in Commonyr!" He says,
forming the men up into ranks - with the lady in the middle. "At you're
service - mi'*Lady*... we are The Old Guard."

-- 
Marc J.
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