Mad Lemmey's Painting Blog

In the long Embassy dining hall, the sumptous diplomatic dining area of the Terran Diplomatic Corps two figures stared at the serine calm after a bustle of frenetic activity.  On a perfect Queen Anne oak topped table (or perfect recreation of) the perfectly clean and perfectly polished tableware was set perfectly. Each seat had been perfectly adjusted to the relevant guest and their species' needs, and the menu perfectly attuned to the latest perfect Terran dining fashions. All was pretty perfect.  The Diplomatic droid hummed happily to itself as it scanned the area for micro imperfections. A desert spoon was realigned by merest fraction of millimeters using house manipulation fields.  The Ambassador looked on, formal diplomatic attire had been donned,  he looked suitability uncomfortable. "Are we sure about the menu choices?" "Tsk, they have all been adapted to the relevant digestive needs of our guests. All allergens edited out, all flavours still present " Th...

The Ambassador flexed his shoulder as the Medbot hovered away, "I know its 100%, but it still aches, it's weird..." The conversation ended as a pressure wave pushed them both a step (or hover) sideways. A bemused looking sharklike creature was now in the Imperial visiting tank, and a small pedestal with what looked like a cat bed had appeared near the Medbot. By the ancient, ornate (and recently repaired) Ambassadorial sofa, a small table, of a design completely out of character with every other piece of furniture in the room, appeared, followed by several small bowls landing on it, one containing pink and randomly wriggling foodstuffs, another a selection of nuts and bolts and a blue and yellow spray can with a red top. Beside these, teetering on the edge, a metal wine cooler and what appeared to be a vintage bottle of Champagne materialised. The Medbot reached out a manipulator field for a few nuts and bolts. "Snacks, must be a show night!" The Ambassador shr...

As the Diplomatic Droid hit Mac One flying down the corridor, he was glad he had swapped consciousness to a Mk 17 combat droid chassis. It cycled through weapons choices as intruder alarms blared, red lights flashed, and his comms flared. +++DO NOT ENTER MEDICAL+++ The Mk 17 had enough firepower to take down an newly adult Auran, so if any other species had launched a raid in the Embassy, this was going to be a painful experience for them. +++REPEAT: DO NOT ENTER MEDICAL+++ Suit shields were raised to help decelerate him, thankfully before he crashed into the reinforced metal door that secured the embassy medical centre. The droid's manipulation fields flared to cut away the wall surrounding the door (it was easier),. Dust quickly filled the corridor, followed, unexpectedly, by steam. The next thing the Droid saw was wall of brackish water, engulfing it's shields, and nearly pushing him backwards. Someone was teleporting in water, and it was now obvious who. "Told you he w...

The Ambassador let out a gasp. Then it was followed by the rest of the air in his lungs as he, and an awful lot of blood filled water, fell the three metres from below the Embassy formal meeting room ceiling onto the ornate floor, narrowly missing an antique consulate sofa by inches. He lay, stunned in a puddle, lifting his head and rolling onto one good arm as he struggled towards the velvety coach. "Glad to see you return in one piece," the Diplomatic drone buzzed in, "I trust your unscheduled meeting with the Auran Emperor went well?" "Uuuurgh," the Ambassador groaned, slowly pulling himself onto the sofa with his one arm, clutching his side and wincing from a shoulder that should not have been in that position, "Medic..!" "Did you gain any insight into the Auran fleet and their tactics?" The drone busied itself tiding objects that did not need tidying across the room. The bloodied water was soaking into the approximation of a marble...