Vanna: You're back! Oh, you're back! I have so missed the Character Chatroom! Ophelia: Honestly, you'd think she hadn't any real-life friends. Henrietta: I think it is truly delightful. I trust you have had a pleasant Christmas. Do you still celebrate the holiday, or have shortages ruled it out? Hello, Alpha! Come here! *Whistles and holds out a hand*
Truman: Yaroslav, if you wish, you can say, "alphapup, detach bayan" and you will have your instrument. It will even play itself, or teach you songs. Alphapup will weigh less, and will only detatch one more item. Remember, three is the limit. You can also ask it questions. Try it!
Truman: Hello ladies! Good to see you! I'm am now part of this reality, at peace, as long as Seeker wills it. I now get to enjoy interesting company, have a drink and a sim-cigar. Everyday is Christmas! Alpha! Mission: public well-being and morale. Alpha (runs to Henrietta, tail wagging. Slurps her hand. Feels like dog-slurp, but no slobber): Woof! Schlurp. Schlurp. Truman (to Henrietta): We celebrated all holidays upon request, decorations, snacks, facilities. Once the Tyranny had everyone sheltered and sustainable in the next generation, life was without reasonable want. Leisure was payment for labor, and it took many forms, including recreation with mag-moebas, and simulations. How was your Christmas, ladies?
Henrietta: I have had a very pleasant Christmas, thank you. All is quiet until New Year and Epiphany. It is too cold for riding and so I have merely visited my horse, La Petite. I have finished an embroidery of a little festive robin and have begun a depiction of the Frost Fairs that occur every year on the ice. It is often possible for us to go, properly escorted and guarded of course. I am looking forward to it. I enjoy the carnival games, whereas Charlotta says she can already taste the roast hog. It is so like her to be so preoccupied with food. Vanna: We've had a lazy day. It's me, Ophelia, and the Oakwoods again, and we've spent most of Boxing Day doing jigsaws.
Nixi: So, I guess we're back? Doyle: Seems like it. Hello ladies, and you as well, weird supernatural-ghost-president-Truman. How does a president-ghost from a wasteland celebrate Christmas, anyway? Do you, like, dress a mutant in a Santa costume and put some tinsel on the tallest rock you can find? Nixi: Doyle, don't be mean! We haven't talked to them in a long time, and I want to stay friendly. So, Mr. President, how do you celebrate Christmas?
Truman: After only a couple generations, the cultural significance of the holidays faded. We had to make many cultural traditions part of the education system, to prevent them from being entirely lost. Most were pared back closer to their origins, so gift giving and modern decorations were omited. There were pageants and plays using props and lighting. Clothing was no longer possible, but the sheer appearance of the bio-suits provided an excellent surface for projection, so several people could assume the Santa Cause role throughout the pageant. There were no costumes to change. The kids loved the opportunity to assume different characters, and the adults were motivated to participate just by the enthusiasm of the kids. After people began to thrive again, it was mainly the children who created the new culture. Holidays were creative... magical! *grins* Alpha: Rfff!
Vanna: You abandoned it, Rishnaran! You left me to be the sole guardian of the Chatroom from the first page! Elsie: You aren't modest, are you? Vanna: No, I was just the one who explained everything since I'd been here the longest. Have you met Henrietta, Rishnaran? Henrietta: I don't believe we have had the pleasure. I am Princess Maria Henrietta of Cavallia, and it is lovely to meet you. I do not know what a Rishnaran is, is that your Christian name? Jasmine: He's the form the author takes in the book. Henrietta: Oh, how curious. Mr. Truman, I cannot imagine a Christmas without gifts or decorations. The delight especially of the children when they receive gifts is a true pleasure, and it is often a way for noblemen to seek favour from my father. Do you still have feasts? We have many, and two are still to come.
The Rishnaran: Oh, no. I'm afraid I will not be revealing my Christian name here. And none of my other characters have Christian names to speak of, though they have names of course. Allow me to introduce you to the merry bards of Mothercreek, some new creations of mine. Olivard: Where are we? Ned: No idea. Can we stay? Jon: Only if we get paid. Thane: Or fed. Olivard: Quiet, you three. I'm going to make introductions. Olivard, master of the mandolin, at your service. Jon: Jonthin, master of the lute, at your service. Ned: Nedwin the fiddler, at your service. Thane: Thane Danesun, mazd urvdha har, padhurz urvis. Jon: I don't think they speak Dwarvish, you lank. Thane: Just because there aren't any dwarves here doesn't mean they don't speak Dwarvish! I speak Dwarvish! Jon: Badly. Olivard: Excuse them. What are your names?
Truman: Henrietta, we feasted and celebrated often in The New Tyranny. Each was a theme, an opportunity to teach children about a culture that existed before The Strike. Gifts were presented in the form of drawings or music, and video projects, things people could do without physical resources. Artistic decorations were made by children and projected in the shelter domes. It was wonderfully immersive. The dome made many of them seem three dimensional. We walked in a winter wonderland, chanted on mountain-top temples, knelt and prayed in gigantic mosques and cathedrals, danced around monoliths... I was a guest in thousands of domes. I wandered, never having an office, or a home, to constantly be among the people I served. I loved dancing with children... Anyway, Mr Olivard, I am Truman, last President of the United States, former Tyrant Administrator of the Constitutional Tyranny of the Unified State. I called myself Tyrant because I still believe my election was undemocratic, even if it was the will of the people. Now I am relieved of my life, and I exist as a free entity, in this place of fine drink and interesting folk. I did not want to exist, but Seeker found this reality, and I'm quite satisfied here. This is my dog-moeba, Alpha. Alpha: Woof! *tail wags*
Jon: ...perhaps he does speak Dwarvish. I didn't understand any of that. Olivard: I think I understand. We should probably bow. [the bards bow] Jon: ....can we get up now? Olivard: Quiet!
Truman: Never did like people bowing to me, though I did a lot of bowing around the world. Please, I'm just Truman now. Thank Gohd! Pull up some chairs and tell us about yourselves, since I've blathered on enough. Heh heh. Alpha: Rfff.
Nixi: Well, first off, welcome Jon, Olivard, Thane and Ned! You four play music, yes? Would you mind playing a song? I'd love to hear it. Doyle: Well, Truman, I honestly didn't think that you guys would celebrate Christmas with the whole apocalypse thing going on. Did you get anything good? Nixi: *To Rishnaran* So you're one of the first people to come here? What was it like, in the beginning?
The Rishnaran: Lots of dragons. I'll probably bring them back at some point, but they're happy where they are right now. There was also lots of swearing. We made a separate room for it eventually. Olivard: Well, lads, tune your instruments. What song should we play? Thane: House of Stones? Jon: Ugh, why do we always have to play one of yours? Ned: I like House of Stones though. Olivard: House of Stones it is. Everyone ready? Take your hands and pick up this stone Together you and I will build a home And you and I will never be alone As long as we are planted on this stone And my hea-a-art My hea-a-art All 4: And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII await your return Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy soul, it burns And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII await your return And myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy soul, it burns Olivard: Because we’ve been where we’ve gone And we’ve gone where we’ve been Your eyes tie down this wand’ring soul So lie with me and brave the winds of cold And your hea-a-art Your hea-a-art All 4: And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII await your return Oh myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy soul, it burns And IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII await your return And myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy soul, it burns Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar Olivard: AHEM. All 4: And myyyyyyyyy soul, it burns! Olivard: There's only eight lars in that song. Why did you meatheads keep singing? Jon: Because you kept singing. We wanted to stop, believe me. Olivard: I was singing because you kept singing! Thane: There's actually twelve lars. Olivard: We must have sung at least thirty! Ned: I don't mind. That's my favorite part. Jon: Shut up, Ned.
Yaroslav: *to Truman* Thank you, mister, I'll try it right away! Your Christmas sounds funny to celebrate too! *to Henrietta* Princess, we celebrate Epiphany too with a nice cold dip at a blessed frozen lake, or well, we used to before moving. We'll try it at the nearby river, but don't think it works without a Pope to bless it. I'll have to ask Papa about it. *gives a thought and asks to Alphapup* Yaroslav: Alphapup, become a bayan and play... 'Young Halya', please! Oleg: Good choice. It's a festive and happy song. I'm glad most of people around had a merry Christmas. We had a tasty dinner at home, and I cooked it myself. Yaroslav helped too with the potatoes. Yaroslav: *to Rishnaran* Whoah, I never expected to see dragon people around! It's nice to meet you too! I'm sure you would have a great time meeting Pyotr, if he wasn't our baby brother's toy! Oleg: Indeed. In any moment some ninja turtles will come around to make us company too... Yaroslav: Don't be rude, Oleshka! Oleg: I am not. But, for some reason, I think that we should be freaked out at this point... this place makes us more tolerant to people than usual. I mean, I wouldn't like to have an argument with a talking Komodo dragon, much less against actual dragon people, or some talking alien sheep. And here we are. Yaroslav: So, it's our duty to be friendly and meet everyone around! Be dragon, royalty, Komodo or alien sheep! Behave! Stefania: *returns to the group surrendered with puppy-drooled jeans and Rovina the Pup happy at her side* Can you believe that I switched pants three times until now, all thanks to this beast?! *pointing to Rovina* This beast is a drool factory! At least now she only stays at my side... oh, but where are my manners! *looks at the bards* New employees have arrived to the park! I hope their performance supersedes the previous ones, mister Photographer included *looks at Truman*! Clara: *facepalms finishing her tea* Idiot, we're not in a thematic park! It's some sort of hi-tech cafeteria, and this people aren't employees! And what's with that weird talking toilet there?*points at the Talking Toilet* Stefania: *to the Toilet* Hmm... 'koneesheewa', toilet! *to Clara* Don't be ignorant, it's obviously one of those Japanese futuristic toilets! You need some more of world, sister! Oleg: *to Stephania* And you need some more of brains, dumbass, you just greeted a toilet! *Clara giggles but shuts herself quick after a killing glance from Stefania* Stefania: *to Oleg*Whatever, at least we have four bathrooms at my house! And you do your stuff in middle of your street, don't you? *smiles spitefully* *Yaroslav contains Oleg from punching Stefania.* Stefania: Hehehe... *to the Bards* It's fortunate you're here, so I can delight you with my voice! I sang this piece from Mozart's 'The Magic Flute' at our Christmas dinner, and all of our guests were simply delighted by my performance! You know 'Queen of the Night'? Let me refresh your memories and souls with it... ahem *clears her throat* *Clara grabs her forehead covering her eyes, while the twins glare at Stefania with disgust, as she prepares for 'refreshing' everyone's ears...*
The Rishnaran: Oh! I'm not a dragon person. I'm a regular person. [hurriedly changes form] Jon: Who's Moatsheart? Olivard: I've heard of Pondsheart and Moorsheart, but no Moatsheart. Thane: Ahem... Fair ladies, might I interest you in a dwarvish ballad? [strokes patchy stubble dramatically and stums harp]
* Clara, Yaroslav and Oleg listens amazed at the Bards. Stefania does with a dose of envy and keeps preparing her own performance. Once done, they clap their hands loudly.* Yaroslav: *to Olivard* Amazing song! And even if I am definitively NOT a lady, I would love to hear your ballad! Where did you learn to perform? Are you errand or do you play for a court or something like that? I think there were the right amount of 'lars', by the way. Oleg: *to the Bards* Yes, it was cool. Please sing anything to protect us from this cow's sawmill voice.*points at Stefania, who reddens with anger* Clara: *to Olivard* Yes, please! ...I mean, your voices are excellent, and while we wait for Stefania to prepare herself, of course! * Clara sweats at her sister's soul-piercing glare*
Nixi: Ah, thank you four for that. I didn't want to be too forward, but I've only ever heard a live performance once. Your song was great! Doyle: I don't know... I think that it was a bit loud for my tastes. Nixi: Doyle, you jerk! You shouldn't insult hospitality! Actually, considering I've just met a lot of you, I think we should introduce ourselves. I'm Nixi Star, and this is Doyle Quinn. It's a pleasure to meet you. *To the Bards* How did your group come together? *To Yaroslav, Oleg, Clara, and Stefania* And you four, are you friends? Are you a part of Anton and Koshka's story? Doyle: Y'know, Truman, I honestly thought you guys would've forgotten about holidays and things like that. I mean, when survival is the top priority, why would you even consider holding onto frivolous traditions?
Olivard: Thank you very much. Thane: Shhh! They want to hear my ballad. Jon: Oh good glory. Thane: Ahem. Sa mboduin zdol dmithaworl dwazgon arolmi Iai ndhashar pezdul indhash hed Shi uasluk inkai nduvd umwi thirfin gurandurthum Indhas hae povn elahnrf orhed Dairz topkomin anz aidohnz topkomin Fedhutha rulzn ai hithagrau ndrunin Di dnmaekz enznatu livf orfun Iurbrain gedzmar tbutiorhed gedzdum Som achtu duzom achtu si Soazwro ngwidh taeknzub achsit Ulnevrn oifudo ntgo Ulnevrsh ai nifudo ntgo H-- Olivard: Alright, that's about all we can stand. Thank you, Thane.
The four teens to Nixi: Friends? NEVER! *after some awkward silence for such a reaction, Yaroslav explains first* Yaroslav: Oh, I see that we haven't presented us! I am Yaroslav Cherkov, 'Slava' for nickname, I'm twelve, and Oleg is my twin brother. Our Papa is Leonid Cherkov, our baby brother of six is Mihail, and Koshka is our big cousin! About Anton... I suppose you mean mister Nevsky? He is my favorite detective around town! He got into the newspapers once! Oleg: The newspapers weren't nice with mister Nevsky, but Slava likes him anyway. And about those two... girls... we are enemies. Not a single ounce of care in between, and if not because we respect auntie Mirjana and we love our friend Jan, we would have kicked the shit out of them for being so cruel and shallow. *to Clara* Would you mind to describe your species, you polish bovines? Clara: Little piece of... *to Nixi* I mean, I'm sorry for this stinky idiot's behavior. I am Clara Novakowna, I'm fourteen years old and, definitively, unrelated to such a pair of jerks! I like modern fashion, good mystery novels and I'm part of St. John Baptist's Catholic school's newspaper staff. My sister- Stefania: *interrupts Clara* Dear, I am more qualified to talk about our heritage! *Clara gets silent but disgruntled* Well, I am Stefania Novakowna, actress in training, I am now at my early sixteens, hehe, and we are the daughters of Maksymillian Novak, a very successful entrepreneur, philanthropist and loving father- *Oleg and Yaroslav spits at the floor when hearing 'father'* Stefania: You bunch of pigs! *again at Nixi* As I was saying, our mother is Mirjana Kovacevic, and we have four siblings more- Yaroslav:*interrupts with violence* Five! Tell the truth, evil darned cow! Stefania: Ugh! Five then, whatever! Anyway, we are a happy family with a lovely home, and we would have a perfect life if not by our...*glares with scorn at the twins* new derelict 'neighbors'. Yaroslav: *to Thane* It's an interesting rhyme you got in your song. Would you care to give us a rough translation of what's about? I don't recognize the language, to be honest. *to Nixi* You have some unique last names. Do you have family, or heritage from them? My papa is a cossack from Don, and my mama was Ukrainian, as Koshka is. What about you?
Doyle: Oh, "Quinn" is an Irish name. I don't exactly think I am Irish because my family's lived in America for a couple of generations now. But, both of Nixi's names are made up and she only made them to sound cool. I've had family, but they're boring so I kind of left them. I thought about changing my name to something like "John Daniels," but that sounds like a lot of hassle for something so trivial. Nixi: Yeah, I kind of had to make up my own names. For the longest time, I couldn't remember my original name, so I thought up of a new one. "Nixi" is basically a play off of my serial number, N1-X1, and "Star" is because I like stars! It's way better than my original name, which I found a little while ago, "Pacifica Smith." That's boring as heck! How did Anton end up in the newspaper, anyway? Did he solve a big crime or something? Doyle: I'm more interested in that fifth sibling that Stefania doesn't want to talk about. Seems interesting. Nixi: Doyle, she obviously doesn't want to talk about that, so you shouldn't ask about it!
