The Thirteen Moons of Shamballa (in-character thread)

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"Moscan vagabonds Madam? I should say not! We are from Earth, and I will match my pedigree against any family on this, or any other world. My people have ruled in my land for centuries!
We are travellers that have imposed upon your hospitality, for which we are grateful. Once all of of our companions are sufficiently recovered we shall be on our way." Major Hunter briefly stares at the insolent young girl before going over to the gnome to see how he is doing.
 
"Moscan vagabonds Madam? I should say not! We are from Earth, and I will match my pedigree against any family on this, or any other world. My people have ruled in my land for centuries!
We are travellers that have imposed upon your hospitality, for which we are grateful. Once all of of our companions are sufficiently recovered we shall be on our way." Major Hunter briefly stares at the insolent young girl before going over to the gnome to see how he is doing.
"If you find the term vagabond offensive, perhaps you should not dress as a tatterdemalion from that backwater moon," replies Desideria. "There is no place on Mosca called Earth, you nincompoop."

When Major Hunter approaches, Servitor-1 backs away and moves to check on Spisarevski's wounds.

The gnome opens his eyes, staring blankly at nothing, and shouts, "Ahhh! I'm falling! I'm falling!" Flop sweat courses down his brow from his hairline.
 
"Hmmph!" Major Hunter replies to Desideria's comment. "Earth is another planet. Do keep up, will you? We are very far from home, on some primitive backwater it would seem." He looks at the Gnome, and puts his hand on his brow. "Steady on there old chap. You're in no danger now. Just rest and you'll be right as rain in no time."
 
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"Those are the clothes we were given on Mosca, because they found Earthly fashion weird", Spisarevski said. "Pray tell, Madame, what else would you expect visitors from another planet to wear?"
 
"Those are the clothes we were given on Mosca, because they found Earthly fashion weird", Spisarevski said. "Pray tell, Madame, what else would you expect visitors from another planet to wear?"
"I'm quite sure the attire of schizophrenic beggars is outside my purview. What, pray tell, do you intend to do once you have been bandaged and fed?"
 
"I'm quite sure the attire of schizophrenic beggars is outside my purview. What, pray tell, do you intend to do once you have been bandaged and fed?"
"Wait for the gnomelord to come to his sense, then save our friends...unless you might agree to take him here to reconvalescence", Spisarevski returned. Then he turned to the Major.
"Say, Major Hunter...don't you think it would have been easier if there was some obvious physical trait separating us from the locals? If we didn't look a lot like the people nearby, at least we wouldn't be suspected to be madmen when stating the truth, namely, that we hail from Earth! How much easier it would have been if all the locals shared, say, an orange skin like that dancer in Bonario's palace?"
 
"Yes, quite. Spisarevski old man, I think these folks are all mad as Hatters. The sooner we find our way home the better." Turning to Desideria Major Hunter sternly looks at her. "I've just about had enough of your sass young lady. Will you tend to our friend, and see him safely to his people once he is well enough to travel? If so, we will leave as soon as your metal-man sees to Spisarevski's wound. What about you Sergeant? Are you injured?"
 
"Wait for the gnomelord to come to his sense, then save our friends...unless you might agree to take him here to reconvalescence", Spisarevski returned.
"I don't know how you do things on your imaginary moon of 'Earth,' but here on Volcana we do not leave our burdens with our hosts, nor is it done on any of the thirteen moons of Shamballa," replies Desideria.
How much easier it would have been if all the locals shared, say, an orange skin like that dancer in Bonario's palace?"
"Of course you would consort with a harlot from Paubrasilia!" says Desideria.
"Yes, quite. Spisarevski old man, I think these folks are all mad as Hatters. The sooner we find our way home the better." Turning to Desideria Major Hunter sternly looks at her. "I've just about had enough of your sass young lady. Will you tend to our friend, and see him safely to his people once he is well enough to travel?
"Of course not. Servitor-1 and I will accompany you to make sure you exit the Proscribed Zone without causing additional trouble. Where are you going from here?"
If so, we will leave as soon as your metal-man sees to Spisarevski's wound. What about you Sergeant? Are you injured?"
"I am quite fine," replies Gilipollas.

The Lord of Picklenut Forest comes to his senses and asks, "Who are all of you? Last thing I remember, I was in my treehouse cottage and there was a fiery attack and an ape threw me off a cliff! Have I died? Am I in the Blissful Hereafter?" To Desideria: "Are you one of my promised thirteen virgins? You're a bit tall for me, but I'll make do!" He rubs his hands together gleefully and strokes his long beard.
 
Major Hunter looks at the Gnome with glee in his eyes. "That's the spirit old man! Have at her if you can catch her." Realising that any further intelligent conversation is useless, he busies himself with looking at the raygun and seeing what he can make of it before calling Sergeant Gilipollis over and asking him what the dials and switches on it mean (i.e. safety, automatic, shots left, etc.)
 
"My word," says Gilipollas, "I'm starting to believe you are from some undiscovered moon as the princess said! Have you no knowledge of rays?" He instructs you both in the use of rayguns, showing you how to twist the dial, numbered from zero to eleven, where a normal pistol's hammer would be. "This is one of the newest models. Zero obviously is for safety. Do you understand the numerical concept of zero on your backwards moon? It means 'nothing,' the lowest possible amount of something, do you follow?"

Desideria watches with distaste and rolls her eyes, but not for long as the Lord of Picklenut Forest, having recovered quickly from his trials and tribulations, begins chasing her around the cabin, attempting to lay hands on her only to be slapped about and hit over the head with the flat of her gladius.

Gilipollas continues, "Each additional number increases the amount of damage the weapon will do. Eleven will disintegrate whatever it hits. If you merely want to knock a man-sized living being unconscious, set it midway at 6. Less than that will hurt but not incapacitate. More than that can cause burns and possibly death depending on the fortitude of your target. I would demonstrate for you on the sub-man, but you seem to have formed an emotional attachment to it."
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"Are you talking about me?!" says the Lord of Picklenut Forest, frozen in mid-step with his hands in mid-air in the act of reaching for Desideria's buttocks.

"This tube on the top of the raygun indicates the amount of energy left," says Gilipollas, completely ignoring the gnomish man as one might ignore a Chihuahua yapping at one's feet. "The front end lights up to warn you when you have only a little charge left, but unfortunately due to the variable output there is no way to indicate exactly how much you have. It is one of the few flaws in Prospero's great work."
 
"Well, apologies for asking. Not knowing what are your relations to the gnomes of the forest, I reasoned that you might be willing to give hospitality to one of their Lords", Spisarevski shrugged.
Some bemused looking later, he tapped the Lord of Picklenut Forest on the shoulder and informed him.
"You are very much alive... but now you're also making us all look bad. Please stop!"

He listens to the explanation silently and checks his tube to see whether there is any dearth of energy.
"Why couldn't Prospero just make it a clock face showing what share of the energy is left? Ah well...I think he might be thinking of weapons more often than he should. Had he applied the same inventiveness to, say, food production and entertainment devices, there might have been no need of superior weapons."
 
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"Bah! Food production is the function of slaves such as this embarrassing sub-man you've saddled us with," says Gilipollas.

"Is he talking about me?" asks the gnome, ceasing his pursuit of Desideria.

Meanwhile, Servitor-1 has cleaned and bandaged Spisarevski's injuries.

"If you are not too craven, tomorrow we can begin the journey across the Shimmering Plains to the Lost City. There is an abandoned rocketship there that I believe is still functional," says Desideria. "With it, you can return whence you came, if such a place exists. I still believe we would know if there were a fourteenth moon of Shamballa."
 
"Craven? Is she talking about us, Major, old chap? Us, the visitors from another planet?", Spisarevski asked, inadvertently adopting the older man's mannerisms. Talk too long with another man and see what happens.
"We'd be grateful for your guidance, and gladly accept it", he adds, bowing formally at Desideria. He's sure what the Major would say.
 
"Craven? Is she talking about us, Major, old chap? Us, the visitors from another planet?", Spisarevski asked, inadvertently adopting the older man's mannerisms. Talk too long with another man and see what happens.
"We'd be grateful for your guidance, and gladly accept it", he adds, bowing formally at Desideria. He's sure what the Major would say.
"So you are steadfast, brave, and bold as well as schizophrenic," says Desideria. "That's excellent news. You'll have no fear of the perils you are likely to encounter."

Servitor-1 states, "Observation: mutant rovers are most active at night due to light-sensitivity. Primary recommendation: rest until morning to replenish strength and energy. Secondary recommendation: depart at dawn."
 
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"Well it would seem that the metal man has more sense than some people... I agree, let's rest and leave at dawn. What do you say Spisarevski?"
 
"I only say 'where can we stretch our limbs', Major!"
"There's room in the loft if you don't mind close quarters," says Desideria.

"Ugh," says Gilipollas as he follows the gnome up the ladder, "to have fallen so low in the world as to share sleeping accommodations with a sub-man!"
 
"There's room in the loft if you don't mind close quarters," says Desideria.

"Ugh," says Gilipollas as he follows the gnome up the ladder, "to have fallen so low in the world as to share sleeping accommodations with a sub-man!"
"You're allowed to not hug him", Spisarevski shrugs, while following them on the ladder. "In fact, you're well-advised to avoid any hugs. The Major and me don't appreciate too much intimacy between men. We could rethink that policy if anyone was to learn about a tragic family event, but only ad hoc".
 
Four to a bed, you awaken with stiff necks and needles and pins sensations in your limbs due to your necessarily awkward sleeping positions. Blinking awake, Hunter, Spisarevski, and Gilipollas realize it's dawn on Volcana as the harsh sunlight shines through slats at the window. Each of you feels an uncomfortable prodding sensation in his ribs and slowly you realize you're being poked with a spatula by a Lord of Picklenut Forest. As you come alive, you smell fresh pastries and realize the gnome is saying, "Wake up! Wake up! The peach-sugar pancakes will get cold!"
 
"Glad you're feeling better...but where did you find peach-sugar, and the material for pancakes, oh Lord of Picklenut Forest?"
 
"Glad you're feeling better...but where did you find peach-sugar, and the material for pancakes, oh Lord of Picklenut Forest?"
"My word, you lazy big 'uns sleep and dawdle whilst we wee folk wander the night and work! I found a grove of peach trees and concocted it myself with sugar from the pantry!"
"I hope you found some tea, or coffee as well."
"Ah! I have something far better!" He presents you with a pitcher of a yellowish milky fluid so thick it almost looks congealed. It smells rancid as he fills three cups for the two of you and Gilipollas. "Drink! Drink!"
 
"You should invite our hostess, too", Spisarevski points out. "But better don't look for her rooms. Just tell Servitor-1 to call her!"
 
"You should invite our hostess, too", Spisarevski points out. "But better don't look for her rooms. Just tell Servitor-1 to call her!"
Almost on cue, Servitor-1 enters and states, "Observation: putrescence. Source: beverage. Inquiry: why are you imbibing an aesthetically displeasing beverage?"

Moments later, Desideria enters from outside, armed and shouldering a backpack, and says, "Aren't you ready yet? Time is wasting."
 
"My word, you lazy big 'uns sleep and dawdle whilst we wee folk wander the night and work! I found a grove of peach trees and concocted it myself with sugar from the pantry!"

"Ah! I have something far better!" He presents you with a pitcher of a yellowish milky fluid so thick it almost looks congealed. It smells rancid as he fills three cups for the two of you and Gilipollas. "Drink! Drink!"

"No, on second thought I am not as thirsty as I thought. Thank you all the same."
 
Servitor-1 states, "Observation: humanoids indulge in poor utilization of time. Recommendation: depart as soon as feasible. Rationale: mutants least active during daylight hours."
 
"
Servitor-1 states, "Observation: humanoids indulge in poor utilization of time. Recommendation: depart as soon as feasible. Rationale: mutants least active during daylight hours."
" Yes quite. Let's be off then. Early bird and all that. Lead on my metal clad fellow! "
 
Servitor-1 and Desideria beckon you to follow through the door whence you entered. Once everyone is outside, the robot locks the door behind you.

"The best hope is to go south through the plains where we might find dromedons we can ride," says Desideria, who scarcely waits for a response before starting in that direction.
 
"Well...I think we should follow the lady, then", Spisareveski observes, and does exactly that.

OOC: How is his injury after the ministrations of the Servitor-1?
 
"Well...I think we should follow the lady, then", Spisareveski observes, and does exactly that.

OOC: How is his injury after the ministrations of the Servitor-1?
All die codes are back to normal, no wounds.
 
Desideria leads you through what might be termed a garden, though it's more a haphazardly cultivated area surrounded by a tangle of trees, vines, and shrubs that threaten to overwhelm it at any time. A path paved with smooth stones leads to an area where the trees and shrubs become infrequent sights and the land rolls down a grade to become a plain covered with waist-high golden grass. Many miles distant, you can see the land grows tumulous with high hills beyond which you cannot see.

"Dromedons graze these plains," Desideria explains, "and they make excellent mounts and beasts of burden if not mistreated. Are either of you experienced in the ways of taming animals?"
 
OOC: are riding and taming the same skill?
 
"Enough to remain on the back. Whether I'd be up to the task of taming dromedaries..."
He shrugs. What man outright admits defeat in front of an attractive amazon?
"Dunno. Never tried it. I usually ride tamed horses."
 
"Enough to remain on the back. Whether I'd be up to the task of taming dromedaries..."
He shrugs. What man outright admits defeat in front of an attractive amazon?
"Dunno. Never tried it. I usually ride tamed horses."
"What a fantastic imagination you have," remarks the gnome as he struggles to keep up, his short legs working overtime. You notice he's chewing on some kind of black stick as he adds, "Are you a storyteller? Spin me a yarn while we hike, please. It makes the time pass!"
 
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