He puts out a hand.

"Enough, Traveller. It is a crime against the Emperor, he has committed, Draconian justice shall give him his punishment. He has lost all personal honor, his family will be trying to erase the stain on their honor for generations, and he will never again hold any kind of political office. Beyond that, we shall see."

His voice rung out at that point, as he saw Taliro.

"Many have sacrificed their honor this day. But one has shone out beyond all others. Taliro. If there is -ever- anything in my power that you wish to ask of me, name it."

He then turned, and knelt in front of Smoke Alarm.

"For you, being a Kang is the highest honor. But today, you carried yourself as well as any Draconian would, and from me, that is the highest honor I can give."

He then went, and grasped Travellers hand in his.

"You will always be welcome, and should you ever need me, you have but to simply ask. But now, more than ever," regarding Lestasel, "I am needed here. There are many positions that need to be filled anew, and I need to offer my services to the Emperor to ensure such a thing does not happen again."

In the end, Smoke Alarm had no brave and bold words for Lestasel, only to accuse 'You're a meaniehead!' and poke her tongue out, before bouncing away as he was catched and taken to the cleaners, along with the rest of his gang of musclebrains.

*

She loitered with Sereth and Traveller and Taliro, listening to Sereth and the Emperor's thanks, all big fancy-pants words she didn't have. She was surprised to see Sereth crouch before her, as if to tie his shoes. She realised it was like nodding their heads – by going all the way down, he was extra-specially ignoring her. He said she was an honorary Draconian, just as the Kangs had made the Doctor an honorary Kang, and that made her pleased-as-punch, smiling from ear to ear. 'I just wanted to save a friend, Green Kang.' When Sereth rose, she broke decorum and quickly hugged him tightly, feeling so sad and happy all at the same time, brave and unbrave, bold and unbold. Was he really leaving? What would she do without Sereth? But she was happy for him, that he was doing what was right, what he wanted.

'Oh!' Smoke Alarm quickly knelt and rummaged in her bag, producing and carefully unfolding and refolding an ancient paper sazu sculpture. 'I lost-and-found this in stores, all dusty and cobwebby.' She produced the familiar image of a regal Draconian diplomat of millennia past, with wise and beneficent smile and looking a bit like Sereth. Smoke thought back and carefully recited 'Ishkavaarr, the Great Peacemaker, Pride of a Thousand Eggs.' In the 26th century, Ishkavaarr had negotiated peace between Earth and Draconia after their war, had turned that peace into an alliance against the Daleks, and into lasting treaties afterward, as well as established the joint colony world of Heaven where the treaties were signed, a shining example of Human–Draconian cooperation (before its grisly destruction in a zombie apocalypse by the Hoothi, anyway, but they would ultimately rebuild). Forgotten for centuries, this sculpture, this memory of the Great Peacemaker, seemed just the thing to bring up, here and now, as Draconia once again turned away from the path of war.

'I knowhow you're a fan of his, I eyespied the pictures in the Blue Pavilion. And I rememorised eyespying him on the telly back in my time. So I shoplifted it as a prezzie for you.' she admitted, none too guiltily. 'But I think mayhaps it should be put back on display, so everyone can eyespy.' She passed it gently to Sereth.

Later....

The Imperial audience chamber, deep within the heart of the Palace, is less cluttered with random courtiers and hangers-on than typical in Sereth's experience, with a more extensive complement of Palace Guardsmen.  He suspects that many of the official witnesses in attendance, too, are Ministry of Virtue men whose loyalty has been personally vetted by Minister Shenzaro.  The Minister of Virtue is himself present, of course, as is the long-faced Minister of Ways.  The Traveller and Stanley and Amanda Khabares stand in a box at the head of the witnesses, with Fadreen and Gilso nearby.

Sereth stands twenty-two paces from the throne, directly behind Taliro and Smoke Alarm.  Taliro is immaculate in his formal Ministry robes, and Smoke Alarm has been made as presentable as a crack team of protocol experts have known to make her.  (Exactly how much this would appear to an unbiased observer is an open question, given that the foremost expert on Kang society and culture within centuries and light-years is Smoke Alarm herself.)

The Emperor stands from the throne.  "Taliro, Junior Probationer of the Ministry of Ways, stand forth."

Taliro takes three steps ahead, goes down to one knee, and bows his head.  "Sire."

"Your conduct over recent days has presented us with a study in contradictions," the Emperor says.  "It seems evident that your inclinations and behavior are poorly suited to service in the Ministry of Ways.  You have violated more than a dozen prime strictures of service, you have let danger and misadventure befall an outlander under your care while allowing the wildest violations of protocol, and you have practiced deceit upon honest Guardsmen within the most inviolate precincts of the Imperial Palace.  By this performance, it might seem meet to strike you from the rolls of the Ministry entirely."

Taliro stiffens.  But he doesn't see the Emperor's slight smile.

"And that is in fact what we shall do -- but not to dismiss you from our service entirely.  Far from it.  Your knowledge, your courage and -- most of all! -- your unstinting devotation to uncovering evil truths are examples of the finest qualities that Draconia espouses and honors, and we must not be without them.  Henceforth you are assigned to service in the Ministry of Virtue.  You are raised to the rank of Agent Probationer, pursuant to your training in the particular skills of that office, and you are commended to the personal disposition of the Minister of Virtue."

Taliro gulps. "My thanks for the opportunity to serve, Your Majesty.  My life at your command."

"Rise, Agent Taliro."

After he stands and steps backward, even with Smoke Alarm, Taliro gives the Kang a brief, nervous smile.

"Smoke Alarm, Blue Kang of the Paradise Towers.  Stand forth."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:16, Mon 16 May 2016.

Smoke Alarm gave Taliro a congratulatory grin, and skipped forward as her name was called out. 'Yep.' She felt a little like being called out by a teacher, but she guessed she was getting a certificate this time. After arguing with the so-called protocol experts, her clothes had hardly changed a bit, but the Draconians had insisted on washing them. Since they'd been covered with dried soap, she secretly welcomed this. Somehow, they'd gotten out all the stains, polished the dog fangs and aluminium jewellery, and even mended a few holes and tears. This was the highest of high fabshion.

She footed forward to the Emperor in his big chair, and rather than bow right-off, she executed a precise, format how-you-do at him. With face set hard and stern, her movements slow but strong, she advanced on the Emperor with an intent that had the guards reaching for their weapons. Stepping forward, making a fist, her right arm came up and across, somewhere between a punch and a block. But her left hand brought it, the fist released with an open palm. Then she stepped forward again and did the same with her left. Next, she brought both hands up and clapped loudly, the noise echoing through the chamber. Then she held both hands up, palms forward to the Emperor, encouraging him to place his claws on them. Finally, she backed up, and bobbed in a low curtsey, bowing her head in full Kang respect, before dropping into a crouch like Taliro had done. 'Sire.'

And here she was, Smoke Alarm, a Blue Kang, a human, a girl, street-kid and homeless refugee, standing before the Emperor of Draconia, of half the galaxy, being respected and honoured. She'd earned it.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:31, Mon 16 May 2016.

The Emperor's face is as firm and solemn as Smoke Alarm's as he echoes the how-you-do back to her.  No one in the assembly dares to crack a smile at it.  He does not, at the end of it, repeat the bow, or curtsy, but she would have to say that for an oldster he makes a credible attempt at it.

(Sereth recognizes the gesture of respect.  It's not often that the Emperor engages an outworlder in their own greeting customs.  Usually it is reserved only for visiting heads of state.)

"These present events that have threatened the rule of our traditions," he says, "that have shown us shamed as a people divided -- they are founded on the beliefs of some that Draconia and our ways are the one path to right.  This is not so!  These are the ways that we know and that work for us -- when we have the courage and the will to stay true to them -- but they are not a sign that we should rule the Galaxy by them.  And on many a day, we witness that in many of the other peoples that make up this Galaxy, we find right and truth that are formed from a different steel.

"Snoke Alarm is no child of Draconia's seas.  But in her burns a fire that any Draconian should be proud to carry.  Jt is not only that we owe her for the blood that still beats in our heart.  It is not even that she fought the most perfect of battles, winning victory without bloodshed, but with bravery and boldness.  It is that she reminds all of us, that compromise does not mean the sacrifice of honor, that peace must stand at the side of integrity."

The Emperor reaches inside his robe and he takes out a blue cloth ribbon from which depends a heavy disc of silvery metal.  Smoke Alarm sees the medal spinning slightly as the Emperor hangs the ribbon around her neck: it is embossed with a scaley serpent, superimposed by an upright sword.

"For all these things, I declare to you all that Smoke Alarm is a Hero of Draconia and I charge you all to witness her.  To bear her aid when she calls.  To hear the truth in her counsel.  To remember her example."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:50, Tue 17 May 2016.

As the Emperor made his great show-and-tell and gave her the badge, Smoke Alarm simply stood there, outlooking in wonder, puffed up with pride and happyness, beaming like a lamppost. The Kangs been used to people ignoring them, treating them as pests, to be taken to the cleaners or eaten as food or thrown in the bin. But no one could ignore this now. This was icehot.

Smoke grasped the medallion and eyespied the snake and kitchen-knife. It was so shiny she could eyespy her own face in it, like she was a part of it now. She had to show-and-tell Traveller and Stanley and especially Sereth, and all the other Kangs, except they weren't here. She dropped it back to the chest, gave another bow to the Emperor, coz Draconians loved all this nodding and bowing and special ignoring, then turned to wave to her friends, smiling every more brightly.

Trav is beaming proudly, rolling on the balls of her feet and making happy fists. When her companions shine like this, when they are beacons of courage and and compassion and greatness, this is what fills the hole inside of her from the Time War, the great answer to the question of whether or not she should go on. She slips an arm around Stan's wait and is hopping up and down with joy, beaming, smiling up at him!

She holds her hand to her mouth and silently mouths to Smoke Alarm, BUILD HIGH FOR HAPPINESS and pumps her fist in cheer, thumbs up, so proud.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:16, Tue 17 May 2016.

The majority of the Draconians assembled make no applause or great display of emotion.  The duty guards snap to attention, though; the others for the most part "ignore" Smoke Alarm, bowing for her.  The exception is Fadreen, who makes the build-high! Kang salute, beaming.

When everyone has settled from that, the Emperor intones, "Sereth, Legate of the Draconian Throne, Knight of the Singing Forest, stand forth."

In stark contrast to Smoke, Sereth stands forward with all due ceremony. He didn't have Taliro's concerns. He knew what he had done was -right-. It didn't matter that others saw that. He knew it, that was all that mattered, and he bowed. He knew the etiquette of the courtroom; especially a Draconian one.

The Emperor regards Sereth.

"We have no accolade for you," he says, "for your service already speaks for itself, as the plain duty of a noble of Draconia.  We would only remind and urge you, if the smallest doubt remains in your heart, to remember that the damage worked by wicked men is their fault alone, and if evils nay rise from the inaction of good men, there is more than enough burden for many here to bear, your Emperor not the least among them.

"We have instead for you only toil and heartbreak, for we have great need of you.  In time past, we placed the engine of the State in the hands of a false counsellor, and much has been put awry that remains to be set right.  We can think of no better hands than yours to do this work and carry forward our will.  We would ask you to lead the Ministry of the State in our service.  Your works -- and the tales of the journeys you have made --" he glances for a moment at the box where the Traveller stands, "-- confirm to us your commitment to our own philosophy.  To work hand in hand with the many peoples that make up this Galaxy.  To be a shield for Draconia's worlds and its people, but to forge peace in strength for all."

There is only the briefest reaction; a slight widening of the eyes for but a moment.

"My Emperor, I live but to serve Draconia. If this is how I am best to do so, then I willingly accept this burden.  I shall not let her down."

Only those who know of the power of words, may note the usage of the 'her', for Draconia, not you, for the Emperor.

Trav smirks slightly. But she knows what this means.

Good byes always broke her hearts, like when she said good bye to Abraham Lincoln, at Gettysburg.

Holding Stanley's arm, she waits.

'Build high for happyness.' Smoke Alarm had solemnly farewelled the Emperor, doing a formal building-hands gesture, before quickly skipping back to her place, beside Traveller and Stanley, and Sereth before he footed out when it was his turn. She eagerly show-and-telled her friends her medal, holding it up and pointing energetically, as if they could fail to eyespy it.

'Singing Forest?' She wished Sereth could show-and-tell her that. It sounded icehot.

As he footed it out, she was happy and proud for her friend, just as much as for herself. But Sereth and the Emperor didn't sound so happy. That was coz they still had to put the Palace and Draconia to rights. Building high for happyness, she knewhow, took a lot of work: fixiting things, cleaning up rubbish, wiping the windows, and a few to-dos. With him leaving the talkiphone box too, it put a sadness on the party.

Trav leads her crew back to Sweet Boy. "Sereth, if you would come join us?" She slowly leads them back to the old, worn blue box, with it's American flag decal. She takes her time with her key, smiling sadly at Sereth. She makes it clear that even if this is the last time, the TARDIS will always and forever be a home that always welcomes him.  She opens the door and gestures to her companions.

He smiled quietly at Smoke, Stanley, and Traveller.

"Traveller. This was never meant to be long for me. You know this. My loyalty has always been to Draconia. For a while, our paths co-incided." He took her hand in his, and pressed two objects into them. One was clear, it was the TARDIS key she had gave him so long ago now. The other was his family seal. "You have not fallen. Or if you have, you have raised yourself up. You have shown me monsters from fairytales, and together we defeated them. A Dalek Traveller. Together we have done, what no Draconian has done in centuries - faced down a Dalek. Together, we ensured peace continued, a peace that has been in place, for the most part, for centuries, since Terra and Draconia first crossed paths. We know that peace cannot be bought at any cost. But we both know that war must be a last resort. Hold strong Traveller. You are not the Marshall anymore. And for you, now? THere is -always- time to travel. Just without me. Take care of those who look after you. You must protect them, but you must also help them see the right way."

He turned away from the Traveller, and approached Stanley. This was harder. He hadn't really gotten to know Stanley, but he didn't want him to leave with nothing.

"Our physiology is different, Doctor Newton. Your people, Terrans, -Earthlings-, you adapt. You adapt so well. Our empire has generally endured, with one or two exceptions, whilst yours has risen and fallen countless times. But when we have changed, changed before we had to, to act, not to react, people within our own lands thought we were doing wrong. Whilst your people, you are constantly adapting, and changing, and nothing can keep you down."

Once again, he pressed the seal of his family into Stanley's hand.

"Look after them, Doctor Newton. They can be reckless, they need you to keep them on the steady path. And to help them recover when they undoubtedly get hurt being reckless."

His gaze travelled now to Smoke Alarm. Oh dear. This was the hardest yet. He couldn't just grasp her hand, she deserved more than that. Oh the so briefest of hugs.

"Watch out for Traveller, Little One. Without me there, it is now your job to keep her out of trouble. And do not let her be too hard on herself. She is harder on herself than anyone should be. And as for you?" A deep sigh. He had always held his own with Smoke. Always spoken correctly, followed etiquette. And now? "Build high for happiness Smoke. And be bold and brave as a Draconian should be. Never forget." What he pressed into Smoke's hand was slightly different. It was his personal seal. They did nothing; they were just mementos. But they meant something.

Eyespying the badge in her hands, Smoke's dark eyes were wide and moist as Sereth said his bye-byes. They'd been through so much together, and gotten so close, in almost no time at all. She couldn't not be unbold and unhappy, but she was happy for Sereth too. Sereth was the closest she'd had to a daddy in so many tick-tocks. 'I'll rememorise, all-ways. I'll outlook for Traveller. I'll be brave and bold as Sereth would be.' she promised, hooking pinkies with the Draconian. Everything she'd wanted to say spilled out. 'And you be brave and bold as a Kang would be. And tell your Emperor he does an icehot how-you-do. And outlook for cleaners and caretakers and dogs... You— you all-ways made me feel sound-and-safe, and important, and honoured... Build high for happiness!' she blubbed suddenly, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly, face on his broad chest.

But. But this didn't seem right-tighty. No one ever left, as she rememorised. They just ran away. She was the one running away again here. And Sereth had promised her a chase...

Her hand slipped down to his... thingamabob, and yanked it from his belt. 'Yoink! Catch me if you can, slowpoke!' And then she was gone, a blue streak winding around the corner, disappearing into the Palace carrydoors, upsetting servants and politicians. She was inviting to just cut loose, for one last run, together.

And past, on one wall, a Smoke Alarm original, a wallscrawl of the great Legate Sereth, standing tall and proud, good and kind, with sword down and open hand raised in peace, standing beside a bravely mop-wielding Taliro.

A quiet smile from the Draconian. It was a breach of etiquette, but it was -right-. He had after all, promised. One last run. Before he took to the rebuilding of Draconia, to her heights. Not the heights of a feared empire; but of what Sereth had -always- held true - the heights of honor.

And to do that, he had to fulfill a promise. Smoke was faster for sure; but Sereth knew the ways of this place. And for the last time, the leg-it gave pursuit.

"Oh, Sereth. You're so right. We'll still be working together, I hope. Draconia of the 195th century must be a part of the Parliament of Time. You've convinced me that this thing can work. I'll be dropping by, from time to time, for your counsel, if you can spare the time for me to walk with you through the gardens. Also, Taliro - him and Smoke are a great team. Maybe I should take him on a trip. Him and you are made of the same stuff, it seems." She smiles and gives him a wink. "I can think of no one worthier of inheriting your key, that is, if you and he would entertain the notion. There's always time to travel, and I can have him back in literally 5 minutes. So, Taliro, why don't you and your bosses talk it over, hm?"

"You may not longer be travelling with me, Legate Sereth of Draconia, but we're not done, by a long shot. You always have a place on my ship, and in my family."

The badge: "As for this." She pins it alongside her Arden US Marshal badge on her jacket's lapel, in a place of honor. Draconia and the US, together.

Trav claps and woots as she takes out her Ipad, recording the race! Who will win?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Wed 18 May 2016.

Waiting for Sereth and Smoke is Trav with the Xmas presents! Boxes are at her side. She waits for them to finish their race, which she is enjoying watching immensely on her Ipad, the feed from all of the security systems coming in, Chibi providing frenetic commentary in Japanese.

"Of course! I will do my best to keep everyone safe and healthy." Stanley promises with a faint smile. "It won't be easier without you, though. Preventing is better than curing. You are in no small part the reason those two haven't had anything worse than scrapes and bruises."
Stanley shakes his head.
"Nah, you don't have to worry about us. Worry about yourself, you have quite the task ahead of you. We humans might be good at adapting, but I am not sure I'd be able to deal with all the bureaucracy and strict protocols here. That is something you are good at and there's no other Draconian I know that would be a better fit for the job. I wish you the best of luck!"

Taliro blinks.  "I'm sorry.  It's a gracious offer, Traveller, but I can't do that.  Time travel might make it possible for me to be back here right away, from the perspective of Minister Shenzaro and Minister Sereth and all of Draconia, but it wouldn't be that way from my point of view -- and it's very important to the 'me' of right now that I get to work on the job i need to do -- not to the 'me' of a week or a month or a year from now."

He approaches Smoke Alarm.  "I took the cross-- the arrowgun back to the curators.  I was worried that they'd be upset that it was missing.  Strange thing: they seemed excited.  That hardly ever did something in their care end up become a part of history a second time.  And there's this."

He holds out a small, round glass case like a covered pie plate.  Smoke Alarm sees that it has a wooden disc in it with intersecting colored lines, and twelve tiny colored figures, the sazu kings in miniature.  "The next time I see you, Smoke Alarm -- let's not do anything more exciting than play a game of sazu.  Yes?"

'Thanks. I only wanted my own arrowgun anyhow. But that other one was icehot. Tell them thanks for me.' Traveller had lost-and-found her talkiphone from wherever Lestasel had hidden it, and Smoke had fetched back her arrowgun, grappler, and other things from the Blue Pavilion after all the fuss was done. She outlooked at her new toy, a sazu game. 'Okay, it outlooks like fun. I'll try to learn the knowhow and I'll play with you and Sereth next time we're visitors... And you rememorise to be brave and bold as a Draconian could be too.' She hugged her new friend.

*

Smoke led Sereth on a grand chase, up and down the carrydoors of the Palace, skidding around the corners, diving through the legs of statues, swinging from chandeliers, play-fighting and sparring with crossbow and sword, upsetting all kinds of Draconian decorum. Draconians would always remember the day a legate and a wild human ran wild through the Palace, on the one day when decorum could let things slide a bit, and along the polished floor.

In the end, Smoke sprinted breathlessly back to the TARDIS, skipping through the doors before it disappeared. No one would ever find out who'd won, though they might argue about it forever. But she didn't have Sereth's stolen thingamabob.

Trav clapped and cheered. "You're both the winners! Because I can't tell who won, even from the footage. Also, merry christmas! Or Kwanzaa or Hanukah or Life Day or Festivus or Krampusnacht. First, Sereth, for you."

Trav offers him a large box in green foil with a red bow. FROM TRAV TO SERETH. FOR THE CHAMPION WHO BRINGS DIGNITY AND HONOR WHEREVER HE GOES, I MADE THIS WITH MY OWN HANDS. MAY IT KEEP YOU SAFE ON YOUR JOURNEYS LIKE YOU KEPT ME. At the bottom is a circular signature of a large circle with smaller circles, presumably the Traveller's, in Gallifreyan script, along with some hearts and smileys.

It's a black leather coat, a duster, in black leather with a little shine that concords with Draconian fashion enough to be acceptable, that resembles something of a cross between a samurai's robes and a gunfighter's wear, that will dramatically sweep and turn. In it are small pockets in the sleeves, so that one can simply fold their arms and look imperious, dignified, serene, yet understated. If Sereth examines it, he can tell that the lining has worked in an integral ballistic cloth that lets it breathe during warm weather yet will keep him comfy during cold, will guard him from ballistic and energy impacts, and protect him somewhat from radiation, yet be light enough to run and jump in. It's topped off with a long sash that is perfect for holding a sheathed blade.

"And for you, Smoke Alarm. You, you're really hard to get presents for. Open it up." Hers is a small box, something that could fit into a Xmas stocking. Trav rolls on her feet, grinning impishly. "There are people who are gonna -hate- me for giving this to you, but I don't care. Build high for happiness!"

If Smoke unwraps it, it looks like a large blue marker. It says EVERMARKER on it. "This can make wallscrawl on anything. Use this dial here for different shades of blue. Use this other here for other colors. Use this here to erase stuff, but I don't suppose  you'll be using that too much.  It uses sonic tech to make molecular changes on an object. It can be cleaned up but it'll never run out."

She turns to Stanley. "I didn't forget you, big boy. That suit? Check this." She has the scutters wheel out a suit stand. "See this, behind the lapel? Turn this little knob." The suit transforms into a tuxedo, and then into a 3 piece suit of a 1920s style, and so on. "Just think of any bespoke style, and it will change. I made this with my own hands, for you. You're a hard guy to make gifts for, too, Stanley Newton."

"I love all three of you, so much. Sereth, I will miss you, always." She hugs all three of them.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:27, Thu 19 May 2016.

Sereth just smiled. Taliro's reasoning was much of his own for leaving. Work needed to be done, and it needed to be done now.

As for the rest, he gave the the three others one last, nod of acknowledgement, before turning away. There was work to be done. Much to be undone. The coat well, it might be brought out for special occasions.

He simply turns away, not exactly happily, but not sadly either. THe honor and dignity of Draconia had always been everything to him. ANd it was now time to start work on rebuilding that.

OOC: And that is the last we see of Sereth... until next time!

Smoke Alarm had outlooked in horror. 'Christmas?!' You better watch out... She mumbled thanks to Traveller for the marker, but outlooking for a fat rezzie in red and white who gobbled up Kangs really took the joy off the gift...