Please Excuse This Mess!
I'm still working on it.
Bronwynn-PernMUSH - Tuesday, March 16, 1999, 9:28 PM
You move through the opening to the west, heading into the bowl.
Central Bowl(#298RL$)
A stony field is the center of this great caldera, the size of which is unmatched at any other weyr--for the whole complement of all the wings at Telgar could rest comfortably within its towering cliffs. Shaped in a perfect oval, the rock walls seem perfect for keeping the usual chill winds stirring about. The ground is mostly made of pebbles and rocks, some hued the milky shades of old quartz, though there are patches where softer dirt and even trees sprout up from the ground. Southerly, the bowl opens onto the living caverns and the weyrleaders' quarters; the immense entrance to the hatching grounds lies to the northwest. Heading southwest will lead one back out into the rocky mountain ranges around Telgar's protective walls. Dragons may be seen, relaxing or fresh from feeding, to the north, as well as the soft lapping sounds of Telgar's lake touching the sandy shore. The weyrling barracks, always aflutter with activity, is to the direct west. If you're looking for the 'dutypair' to take you to an outweyr destination, they can be found here. Fall leaves cling around the edges of the bowl, and the trees near the lake are bedecked with bronze and red splendor.
The evening is clear, not a cloud to be seen, giving you a perfect view of the stars. The smaller Belior is a nearly full waxing gibbous while Timor is a nearly full waxing gibbous. It is completely still, no winds blow and the summer air is warm enough, with only a slight chill.
Contents:
Saskia
Myklan
Rinath(#7009QVabepqs$)
Ansuth
Lysseth
Chezroth(#4556IOVaepqs)
Dagazth
Tierth(#7707JQaempqs$)
Hagalath
Obvious exits:
Weyrling Barracks Southern Bowl Lake Shore Hatching Cavern Feeding Grounds Runner Pasture Weyr Entrance
Fehuth comes out of the weyrling barracks.
Fehuth has arrived.
Saskia smiles "Rinath touches people she likes, though she doesn't really like to be scritched by anyone but me. I think it's because when she was small, she saw Cliath Search someone. She tries Searching several people for a while, but it didn't really work out." Rinath snorts and Saskia rolls her eyes "You can do many other things, love."
Myklan half-grins, and speaks directly to the dragon for once, "Torinth couldn't match mated socks...you'll be in good company."
Myklan waves to Bronwynn, forgetting for a moment, the tangle of bridal leather he holds in his hand. Almost clocks himself with it, and puts it down with a sheepish expression.
Bronwynn giggles, "Hiya Myklan, Sas. How are you?" she offers to both. "Was that Rinath who got Fehuth to try searching people?" she asks Saskia, glancing at the big brown and then the gold.
Rinath snorts again, closes her mouth and lifts her nose high in the air in a regal pose that seems to say 'I can do anything I put my mind to'. Saskia laughs, "Rinath, I really don't think people could deal with you as a Search dragon."
Myklan offers, "Wouldn't she be too busy watching her eggs to search?"
Saskia grins a bit sheepishly "Oh hi Brynn. Probably. She was quite obssesed with for a time after she saw Caliath Searched someone here. I thought she had forgotten."
Saskia smiles "Well she says she can't lay all the eggs here." Rinath croons smugly and nudges Myklan again.
Myklan chuckles, trying to fend the gold's attention off like one might an over-enthusiastic canine...he puts his hands up and ducks with a grin.
Rinath rumbles, clearly unhappy to be fended off. Saskia chuckles, "Rinath, darling, I don't think Pern is ready to deal with you as a Search dragon. And there are no eggs on the sands now, so Search is not on."
Bronwynn leans against Fehuth, taking a good deep breath. "I think I'm actually all caught up with my chores," she muses in amazement.
Myklan offers an apologetic palm to the gold...not that it's very large consolation.
Rinath thumps her tail on the ground and Saskia visibly pales "You are not! Not for at least half a turn." Rinath rumblesighs and leans over to nuzzle her lifemate instead.
Saskia recovers her composure then peers over at Bronwynn "You are? How'd you manage that?"
Myklan says "Good luck? Maylia hasn't noticed yet, I bet."
Bronwynn giggles, "This is the first time in.. forever. My couch is clean, my laundry done, the straps strong and oiled, Fehuth's clean, well mostly. I don't know what to do with myself. Hey, what's not for half a turn?"
Syri emerges from the barracks, side-by-side with Hagalath -- as usual. She pays little heed to the crowd, instead moving slightly away with the blue, toward the firestone piles.
Saskia blushes "What Rinath wants to do. please excuse us, we need to oil..I mean I need to oil Rinath." She waves and hurries off.
Saskia walks through the entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.
Saskia has left.
Myklan watches Saskia go, then hazards, "Rise to mate, I think."
Rinath rumbles and reluctantly follows. You've never seen a dragon so reluctant to be oiled.
Great loud crunchings and munchings. Ignore the blue in the corner.
Rinath enters through the big entrance into the Weyrling Barracks.
Rinath has left.
Saruh has arrived.
Myklan is sitting on a rock amid a small cluster of weyrlings and their dragons. He seems to be the one among them, out of place.
Saruh saunters in swinging her arms and looking around. Spotting the group she waves cheerfully "Sebring's duties to Telgar and her queens"
Saruh(#12356PVce)
Looks are not the most noticeable thing about her. Instead the most catching thing is her aura of self-assurance, confidance and perhaps even cockiness. Maybe this is expressed in the way she holds her 5' frame, unabashedly voluptuous and muscled. Or the angle she tilts her head, crowned with an unruly mop of sunshine yellow curls. It could be her calm grey eyes. More likely it the sum of all these things teamed with what she chooses to wear.
A skin-tight black leather vest strains to hold her curves in, made acceptably modest by the leafgreen man-style long sleeve shirt she wears underneath. Slick buttersoft leather pants in matching black mold to the curves of her hips and legs. Her boots look sturdy enough to walk across Pern and back and the wide belt slung low on the arc of her waist has enough belts, pouches, widgets and dangling oddities to outfit a small cothold.
Carrying:
Citron
Myklan looks up at the voice, and smiles faintly, "Telgar's duties to the Sebring Traders."
Saruh just looked at you
"Her queen -- one of them, anyway -- just left," Syri calls from her place near Hagalath, in one of the quiet pauses between the blue's extremely loud stone-chewings. "But greetings to you, too. And Gala says hello, too," she adds, surprising the dragon into an inquiring snort. He did?
The summer air is warm enough, with only a slight chill. The cloud cover increases until the sky is partially cloudy.
Saruh cranes her neck to look at the newest group of riders and hmms "They got big fast, didn't they?"
Myklan glances at the dragons around, and then nods, just a little.
Bronwynn laughs, "Now that's praise. Fehuth used to have this hang up about how big he was. He'd ask after each and every nap, "Am I big now?"
Syri chuckles. "Telling /me/ that?" she calls over the noise as Hagalath, slightly grouchily, resumes his munching. "He grew so fast I used to watch to see when it happened." The blueling nods to Bronwynn, adding, "Gala swears he /is/ big."
"Hmm you are a talkative fellow, I like that in a big man" Saruh teases Myklan, with a nod and a smile to Bronwynn.
Kassima walks in from outside the room.
Kassima has arrived.
Myklan goes absolutely red to the tips of his ears, and studiously goes back to reparing the bridle he was working on just a little earlier.
Kassima meanders forth from the Galleries with a slightly gingered step, suggesting, perhaps, painful feet. "G'deve, 'Lings, Mykkie... Trader," she adds, after doing a quick squint at the stranger's knot. "Duties t'your Clan and her Clan Heads. Haven't wandered into a lesson, have I?" Lysseth, sleeping nearby, is evidently not to be trusted to tell her rider these sorts of things.
Myklan mutters hellos to the wingleader without even looking up, carefully braiding a long set of strands into a flat strap to replace the old worn one.
*cough* *cough* Hagalath at least has the presence of mind to tip his great head back before hacking out a few spurts of flame. Syri winces a little and edges back. "No, don't do /that/. Hold it steady. Ye-es, better."
Bronwynn gives Kassima a quick salute before conitueing to Syri, "Feh is the same way, that and he keeps talking about greens..." Her attention turns back to the WIngleader, "Nay Ma'-er Kassima," she stil can't get that Ma'am out of her system.
Saruh winces in sympathy for the mincing of Kassima's step. "I guess so" the trader shrugs, then does something absolutely idiotic to do around open flame by offering the greenrider her hip flask "Old fortified brandy?"
Once she's at her dragon's side, Kassi leans comfortably against her dragon's bulk, getting the weight off of her feet. "Much better," she sighs. Then, "Practicing flaming, then, I'm guessing? Just t'judge by Hagalath." And finally, a blink at the woman who's offering her liquor. Not an *upset* sort of blink, mind. "Gladly, but how much?" she jokes, accepting the flask and sniffing it testingly.
Myklan's extreme flush begins to drain away to more normal colors, as he glances back up from his braiding.
Syri belatedly salutes to Kassima, keeping a weather eye on the blue's flaming and offering directions here and there. Eventually the coughing and erratic nature of the breath begins to steady out, until Gala's producing a fairly respectable swath. "Not a formal lesson, Wingleader," she calls over the noise. "Just practice."
Saruh inhales, straining her vest to its limits over her curves and hmmms, considering. "Tell me a tale and wet your throat as you speak, something good I can trade for dinner later at a smaller cothold"
Kassima nods to Syri, acknowledgment of her answer, then lifts a brow at Saruh. "A tale, eh? Factual, fantasy, or factual with a lot of exaggeration mixed in?" With a quirked grin, she explains, "I've children, so I'm nay stranger t'telling stories."
Bronwynn resists the urge to clap, this should be good.
"I'll vouch for that," Syri calls with a laugh, sorting through more firestone lumps. "Faranth, but she can tell 'em."
Saruh tucks her thumbs in her belt, pulling it low on the curve of her hips and admires the sputtering gusts of flame. "Something factual but exhagerated, they know three more ways to tell an old fantasy out in the lonely edges."
Kassima nods and considers a moment, still holding the flask. "All right," she begins. "I'll give you... the Legend of Slithereth. Long ago, in the Lower Caverns of Benden, there lived a tunnelsnake of monsterous proportions. He'd eat entire wherries for breakfast and Candidates for lunch. Dwane, now former Masterhealer, then Candidate for Dyinath's clutch, was the first to see him and live t'tell the tale--though he came away with a terrible scar as proof of his fateful encounter." She takes a sip of the brandy before continuing, eyebrows jumping into her hairline in silent appreciation.
Saruh loosens the tie to the matching flagon on her other hip and beams. Flopping cross legged on the ground she listens, keeping one eye on that flaming big blue thing.
"Many were the Candidates whose blood chilled with fear at the proof of the dread 'snake's existance," Kassi continues. "One young woman of exceptional beauty, intelligence, and modesty--" Lysseth stirs enough to offer a disgusted snort here, for some reason. "Did her best t'be spreading word of the tale far and wide, warning all who ventured towards the latrines where Slithereth lived of his frightful presence. The wariness of the people prevented Slithereth from snaring any more victims for all of his malevolant cunning, and as his great, empty belly roared its protest, he swore a dire vow of revenge."
Bronwynn hops up on Fehuth's shoulder, gently bouncing her feet 'gainst his side as she listens intently.
Another sip from the flask, another appreciative noise, before the greenrider goes on. "He was patient, that 'snake. Patient enough to gather his serpentine brethren together and bind them in a foul conspiracy: they would unite in a great mass, and attack with such numbers that the Weyr would be buried beneath their slithering coils! Many a Turn it took. Many a dragonlength did they slither, for lo, their nemesis had relocated to Telgar during the Turns they had used t'gather their forces. At last, the tunnelsnakes were ready... and with stealth and much hissing, they slunk into the storerooms, there to wait until the ones whom fickle fate had foretold would come to them to die at their fangs."
Kassima elbows Lysseth at the dragon's second disgusted noise, causing the green to break off obediantly--but not without a last, irritated 'hmph!' "They were few. They were valiant. The virtuous maiden with her glorious frying pan, shining in the light--the noble lady-bluerider with her swift-striking knives and eyes like fire--the sturdy pillar of strength that was the Baker lad, and his faithful canine companion--the oddly cowering Steward--and, a'course, the maid of extreme beauty and bravery I mentioned a'fore, now cloaked in the righteous wrath of the greenrider, with her blades striking like twinned lightning bolts of pure silver!" Under her breath, "Nay *one* word, Lysseth."
Saruh giggles
"Frying pan" the trader wonders, blinking in a double take. "What?"
"Frying pan," Kassi confirms around another mouthful of brandy. "For she was a Baker of strength and courage beyond compare, and her weapon was one of grace and glory. The defenders struck; the 'snakes fought back--but the battle was nay pitched, nor near, for even with all their scaled and clawed might, the 'snakes were clearly nay match for the protectors of the Storerooms! Until, in their midst, a giant shape suddenly loomed...."
Saruh shrinks back and gasps at the imagery of looming doom, eyes wide and fixed on Kassima.
Kassima does her best to sound grim--a difficult task, let's face it, when one's having a hard enough time just keeping a straight face--as she announces, "Slithereth himself had joined in the fray, and it seemed that naught could halt the 'snakes who now rallied with increased vigor at the sight of their monsterous leader! 'Kill, my children!' he hissed at them in 'snake-speak. And they fought... and fought... and fought, though they died by the thousands, though they were clubbed to death by the bodies of their own departed. Still they fought. And the greenrider knew, upon seeing her archnemesis, that only she had a chance against him. If she could nay vanquish him, all would be lost, and the Weyr would be overrun and destroyed by the immense tide of serpents."
Saruh snorts at the mention of clubbing with a tunnel snake, biting her lower lip as her eyes water in the effort to keep back laughter.
Canus walks here from the south.
Canus has arrived.
Canus nods to those here as he crosses the bowl
The flask tips up again for another swig. Fortunately, the greenrider seems to be reaching the climax of the tale... or at least, so one would hope. "Blades drawn, she danced into the fray, crushing snakes with every footfall. She met the 'snake's eyes as she approached, the wrathful flame in his gaze nay match for the icy, diamond-pure determination in hers. They lunged--both lunged--and silver flashed--" A deep breath. "Though the 'snake's teeth sank deep into the flesh of the arm she'd raised to ward him off, he would take nay more prey after that day. For one of the blades of the greenrider was buried hip-deep in his lightless eyes... and his last breath, spent in a hiss of outrage at his denied vengeance, was hot against her torn and lacerated skin. Still she raised her fist and yelled her triumph to the heavens--and without their leader to guide them, the 'snake assault collapsed into a mindless tangle, readily dispatched by the other valiant warriors."
Saruh whistles and claps her hands, banging her heels on the ground.
Kassima grins and takes a deep bow, then reluctantly relinquishes the flask. "Excellent brandy, I must say; cheap for the price. Was there enough exaggeration in there for you?"
Canus grins and claps as he heard the last part.
Bronwynn cheers from Fehuth's shoulder, the brown rousing from his nap at the noise. "That was /wonderful/, Wingleader."
Saruh raises the flask in a toast laughing "Plenty! I'll sleep warm this winter once or twice for the story...frying pan" and she falls over laughing.
Oh No! the flask is dropped as the trader giggle, threatening to spill.
"'Twasn't exactly how it happened," Kassi confides, as though imparting a great secret. "But close enough for the purpose, hmm? A'course, would've been easier t'tell if'n a certain green lump had been able t'refrain from commentary." Lyss seems remarkably unrepentant. "Glad t'be hearing it, Trader--whups!" She immediately attempts to catch the flask, never being one to let good liquor go to waste.
Saruh catches her breath, just a hiccup or two of chuckles breaking in past her gasping. Streaching to get the kinks out of her legs as she rises she wipes her eyes dry. "And that, I think, is a perfect memory to leave Telgar with." She lays her palm out for the poor abused flask.
Kassima wiggles the flask to see how much remains before regretfully passing it on. "What, a crazy one?" she quips. "Perfect for Telgar, aye... duties to your Clan again, then, and good fortune favor you on the roads."
Saruh sketches a brief curtsy to the crowd "Its been a pleasure" and starts the long walk across the Bowl to the ground tunnel.
Saruh disappears down the tunnel that leads out of the Telgar Caldera.
Saruh has left.
Syri's been quietly listening the whole time, Hagalath still blowing off the last of his chewed flame.
"Now I see why Grandsire always said I should be a Harper," Kassima comments, watching the Trader go. "Brandy for practically naught. What a world. Sorry to inflict that tale on all of you, though."
Canus grins at Kassi
Bronwynn tries to cover a yawn, but gives up, "I think I'm gonna take this chore free moment to sleep. Good Evening everyone. It's been fun."