<SNIP!>
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: Seeing that there were no more questions, Stuvik turned his attention back to the transporter room operator. "Energize."
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: -Capt. Stuvik, CO

The transporter operator acknowledged the order and initiated the transport sequence. As their vision blanked and they were taken into the matter stream it began to clear almost immediately.

They materialised in a park square. A cool breeze lessened what some humans might consider the heat of a particularly warm day. The light of a yellow sun shone down on them, broken somewhat by the shade of great trees. Surrounding the edges of the park were square buildings of three stories worked in a clean brown stone Each building was marked at its flat roofed height with a small dome of what appeared to be glass, though the shimmer of reflected light was sufficient to reveal that the glass was cut just to reflect light. Due to this, each building appeared to have a large shining light above it. A series of bridges depending from the top floor of each building, connecting it to the top floor fo the building next to it. Each building had a space of perhaps fifteen feet between them. The streets that could be seen beyond the square were quiet, no people in sight, pavements spotlessly clean with no signs of staining or wear. Clearly the peoples of this city cared for their homes and streets with equal measure. Indeed, City was the right word, as stretching into the horizon were further buildings. Little variation existed between the buildings, but instead of giving it a sterile and cloned air, each building was carved on the outside in a riot of colours, gilding, trees, peoples, scenes of everyday life, scenes of great battles. Some seemed to carry carvings of trades, a butcher carving a slab of meat, a cutler moulding fine tableware in detail, a blacksmith smelting metal, swords and shields stacked across the walls next to him.... It was possible the carvings along the external walls revealed the trade of the person within, though many appeared to be purely decorative.... Perhaps some denoted shops of a sort and the decorative carvings the homes of citizens....

What appeared to be Earth palm trees were bordered in long rows throughout the square in which they stood, the largest of which led towards a massive circular building of brown stone. It towered above all other buildings in the immediate area, though appeared to only be a single storey building. Standing at least sixty feet high, the exterior walls that they could see were intricately carved in an unfamiliar language, a flowing script that would likely hold great beauty to any who gazed upon it. The script changed across the wall that could be seen, becoming something familiar to Earth historians as the runic writings of the norse peoples, changing again to an almost pictographic flowing script that held an eastern tang to it. Further languages could be seen and not identified. Standing the full length and width of the building atop the roof was a great dome made of shining glass in much the same style as those smaller above the other buildings. This however stood more than half the height of the building itself. A massive and awestriking feat of engineering, even in the 24th century, it caught every errant ray of light and magnified it a hundredfold, seeming to glow with a powerful light to drown almost the sun itself. Clearly, they gazed upon the Dome of Truth.

As the eye was drawn to a pair of shining golden gates within the revealed wall of the great building, they noticed a series of people lined along the edges of the palms leading towards those gates. They were dressed in scarlet tunics so tightly belted at the waist that each muscle could be defined. Clasps resting at their left or right shoulders held gold edgings attached to a red leather chord, travelling down to their waist, at which were sheathed short swords, no more than 30 inches long, hilts wrapped in gold and red leather which gleamed in the sun. In their right hands rested the hafts of great spears, metallic in appearance that stood more than eight feet tall, thicker than three fingers and slanted at an angle. In their left, they carried rounded scarlet shields marked with a curious character. It appeared to be a somewhat stylized A in the common language of the Federation, though with a great deal of edging and gilt.

With no apparent signal, the great golden doors, standing easily twenty feet tall and more than fifteen wide edge to edge, swung inward, revealing a somewhat dimmer interior than the almost painful light emitted by the dome outside. A man was outlined in the doorway, approaching the party. His tunic, like those of the guards lining the square, was scarlet and he carried a similar sword, though the hilt of this was carved with elaborate creatures, the scabbard marked with gold leaf and blue etching in writings identical to some of those upon the walls. A scarlet cloak fell from his shoulder clasps, a golden chain resting at his throat marked with a blue medallion in the centre. It rested shortly before his ankles, just slightly raised from the ground.

His arm bore a golden clasp band that encircled his right bicep and was etched in the same language as that upon his scabbard. Unlike the guards, he carried neither shield, nor spear. Of an average height and strong, defined, but not overly muscular build, the man had a sun darkened skin and dark hair that was tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon before continuing to halfway the length of his spine.

As he drew nearer and his face became more distinct, they could see the hard edges of his face. A mouth set in a look of grim determination and dark eyes that seemed ready to bore themselves through anything before him. It was somewhat of an uncertainty as to whether he would stop as he drew himself up less than five feet from Stuvik.

His left hand clenching unconsciously around his swort hilt, his deep voice matched the hard face that bore it. Either he was an unpleasant man by nature, or he was severely unhappy at having to greet the Starfleet officers.

"As you were summoned, thus have you come to stand beneath the Dome of Truth and speak no word that is a lie. I am Eamonn Valda, Administrator of the sovereign city of Tarabon. You will come with me."

Before turning, he took their uniforms in at a glance, his eyes resting first on their phasers and finally upon their tricorders. A wry twist of his mouth spoke volumes of disgust as he continued, pivoting on his heel and leading them within the building

"Your weapons are permitted and your... Scanning devices.. Shall be tolerated, but you may not use them without first receiving permission."

He set a brisk pace, the cloak falling down his back swaying with his movements. An almost feline grace marked his step, as that of a panther stalking its prey, ready to strike at any moment. Clearly the man knew how to use the sword at his hip.

He didn't slow as he entered the building, revealing that it was indeed a single storey building. Just a single massive room within the structure, walls dressed in white stone, apparently laid within the brown of the exterior. A number of larger than life statues of men in archaic garments of varied designs stood on pedestals about the circular interior. Clearly men of stature, long past given the common cultural purposes of such things.

The only other furniture within the great chamber was a massive white stone table, circular in the same way as the building and standing perhaps fifteen feet at the diameter. Dozens of curule chairs rested in niches around the edge of the table, though three were significantly more ornate, gilden in gold etched directly into the white stone they were made from, identical to that used in the table. Another, more ornate than any other, larger and with arms, rested in its own niche, directly opposite the doors. This was the single occupied chair within the room.

Within sat a man in the familiar scarlet tunic that was perhaps common garb here, significantly older than Valda, white hair tied in a similar black ribbon that fell to just below his shoulders. A spare man that seemed to leave no room for excess flesh, his skin seemed drawn tight across his skull. All sinew and bone, he didn't rise as they entered. Despite his clearly advanced age, his face held a hardness that outshone that of Valda, his eyes searching rather than boring, capable of making a person feel weighed, measured and filed down to the very soul.

Whilst Valda took one of the ornate chairs, 90 degrees from the other man on his right, the other occupants of the room stood behind the largest chair, though in tunics of blue, green and brown rather than scarlet... It was possible the colour of the tunic denoted a station or job title perhaps.... The exceptions to these tunics were two other men, standing off to one side slightly on the old mans left.

They had been conferring before the away team entered, but turned to study the group as they stepped through the doors. One was the now familiar Kormus, his grey, almost jumpsuit uniform seemed utterly out of place amongst this ancient setting, the weapon resting in a holster at his left hip even moreso.

The man with him, in an identical jumpsuit style grey uniform, but with a single thick golden knot at each shoulder rather than Kormus' thinner four knots stood at least two feet shorter than the massive Kormus, his hair and colouring similar to those of the other men present. If you ignored Kormus at his side, he was still a largely muscular man, bluff faced and almost stocky. White winged his temples and his face held several lines. His face was at least as hard as the elder man in the chair, his eyes almost expressionless. He seemed immovable as a rock.

After several seconds of silence, the two groups staring at one another, the older man leaned forwards slightly, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. His voice, despite his appearance, was strong and deep, tinged with an unfamiliar accent. His words held a hint of intonement and ritual

"As it has been since the founding of our peoples, we stand now beneath the Dome of Truth. Let any man who will speak a lie beneath the dome face his death with the dishonour in which he faced his life. You stand before Pedron Niall, Administrator of the sovereign citystate of Ar and Supreme Administrator of the Salerian Confederation. You have petitioned audience and I grant it in this place. Speak plainly and speak quickly or die with the lies still upon your tongues."

GM

As they approached the table, the old man within the