| 19/01/2002 Logfile from Harpers-Tale Northeastern Bowl The northeastern arc of the Weyr Bowl seems somewhat isolated from the rest of the weyr - with necessity, for this is the training grounds for young riders and dragons, the Weyrlings. The main entrance to the weyrling barracks is just north of here, and the ground there is well-trampled and firm, as if many feet, both human and dragon, have wandered over it dozens of times a day. Further up in the northwest corner of the bowl is the waterfall, tumbling out of the Weyr face several dragonlengths above, misting the area in a rainbow glow. On the south side of the bowl lie the ashpits and firestone supplies for the entire Weyr. It is a summer midmorning. The sun is high over the ocean to the east, and a good breeze blows in off of the waves. A line of clouds seems to be brewing off the eastern horizon. Gliding about are Bubbly, Overture, Pyxis, and Rorschach. Green Misumith, blue Lazeth, and blue Valanth are here. You see Flamer Charging Unit here. Obvious exits: Barracks Pool Path Central Bowl B'ane traverses solidly out of the barracks. B'ane Upon your first glance, you notice a young man bordering 6'1. Hair, normally the color of fresh klah with scattered highlights of auburn and cast bronze, has been completely shaved off leaving his head naked and utterly bald. Below mynah eyebrows rest a pair of dark chocolate eyes, near black, that display more emotions than the rest of the face combined. Capturing stray light like miniature black holes, the oculars wield the presence of a fathomless abyss with no hope of an escape. Pearl-white teeth reside behind dark pink lips, in which the latter are usually formed into a neutral line. Dimples would appear upon the chance of a sporadic smile, their presence not usually known because of the subtlety of their appearance. A square jaw line--shaved smooth--and high cheek bones add a mien of character and definition as if they had been wrought from pure stone. An even bronze complexion, made more so by Ista's ever present sun, sheaths the layers of bone, sinew and muscle that fuse to form a robust physique. Upon close contact, an interesting medley of subtle musks take the origins of worn leather, earth and the tangy scent of a dragon. In all, it would be true to say a broody, orphic aureole follows his presence, cloaking the figure much like a protective cocoon. Plaits of cadmium fit comfortably around the torso, any trace of sleeves having been omitted utterly. Neither too tight, nor too loose, the material adheres to the rider's preference for material to 'breathe.' Trousers of ebon are sported to comply with the colors of Ista Weyr. Old boots grace the pieds, their exterior burnished to a coruscating sheen. Hidden under the folds of his jerkin is a sheathed knife, handy for whatever task its owner deems necessary. Obtained from a smith Hallmaster, the steel is of an excellent caliber, the edge evermore honed to a razored efficiency. Perched on B'ane's left shoulder is Nemesis. Perched on B'ane's right shoulder is Corsair. A neat hoop of black and orange cords is accentuated by a lone thread of bronze: the attribute of an Istan weyrling. He is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Nemesis Corsair B'ane is 18 Turns and 21 days old. You notice B'ane looking at you. Aboleoth arrives with callous swagger out of the barracks. B'ane emerges from the unclosure of the barracks, his form washed with the shadow from his Partner who walks slowly from behind. An assemblage of other dragons seem to be the only beings present, but when the full panorama is scanned, a human frame is among the draconic ones. Kazra's. "Mornin' Kaz," Oh, don't forget the salute. "And you too, Xylyth." Curt bow to the pair. A low brass rumble is emitted from Aboleoth to his brother, his right wing extending in another form of greeting. "And morning to you as well B'ane, and Aboleoth." Kazra replies, giving her own salute from her lounging postion. Several pieces of leather are laid across her legs and a needle is in her hands. Xylyth also gives his own sort of salute to his bronze clutchsib, tail flicking up to his head and them down again. Rumblerumble. There. Everyone has been said hello to that should be. Kazra grins now that the formalities of greetin are over with. "And how are you this fine day B'ane?" she asks. Watch out, she's in a good mood. B'ane opts that the strong forearm of a dragon makes a wonderful place to lean on, and so he does. "The daily rituals are the usual, but we're now concentrating on which fighting wing to apply for." Kazra's sowing hand catches B'ane's eyes as she dexterously does her work. "Have you two decided yet?" Getting some imput from fellow weyrlings may help ease his choice. "Its lookng fairly like SunShower that we'll be applying for at the moment." Kazra says. "Xylyth's been gossiping with the members of the wing and it looks like we might fit in well there. But, its the wingleaders choice which of us he wants. Any idea of which you like?" Kazra continues to dew on, having had that much practise that she is able to talk and sew nicely at the same time. B'ane listens attentively, having heard that Sunshower was indeed a fine wing. "Well there are a bunch that we've pondered, Firestorm, Tempest, Galestormer and Wavecutter, but still haven't made any definate conclusions.." Hm. "What are you sewing there?" If only he were that deft with a thread and needle. "Adjusting Xy's riding straps." Kazra replies. "He grows that fast that I keep needing to extend them, plus, since we're flying now, it helps to keep them in good condition." Plus it makes her feel slightly safer. "I've also got to do some for M'er. Xylyth recommeneded my sewing skills to Suith." Random comments there. "That is a wise move, I don't know why I don't do that as well." From which Aboleoth responds that they aren't in need of repair yet. "I was thinking on refurbishing Aboleoth's as a matter of fact, but have a feeling I'll need to visit a smith first." Suith's as well? "You have skill and patience to match, Kaz." Kazra glances down at the straps in her lap, perhaps hiding a blush. "Thank you for the compliement B'ane." she replies, looking up after a few moments, cheeks tinged with the faintest red colour. "I'll offer to help you with your as well, if oyu like." she says. Xylyth of course, looks pleased with himself. Finally, everyone is seeing that Kazra is just the best. B'ane faintly smiles without the appearance of teeth. "I appreciate your offer, but I wouldn't want to burden you anymore than you already are. I have a feeling my request my take a while anyway, and I'm not sure I can even accomplish the task." But for the sake of perseverance, he will most certainly try. Meanwhile, the empty sky appears to be too much of a temptation for Aboleoth and with a zephyr of wind, he's aloft. Kazra shrugs, before putting the finishing stitches into the straps, and laying them carefully aside, needle being threaded through her orange top. Xylyth watches as Aboleoth goes skyward, with a vague rumbling sound becoming audible. "In a bit Xy, in a bit." Kazra responds, resting one hand on her browns side. Kazra Kazra stands tall at her final height of 5'8. Brown hair sweeps back off her face, but there is a new addition to it. Twined among the brown strads are quite a few colourful ribbons, white, red, blue, green and purple. Falling neatly down her back, they reach to her shoulders, giving Kazra's hair a new, colourful look. A small band of leather holds the ribbons and the hair back out of her sparkling blue eyes. Long legs taper upwards to a thin waist, broadening out only slightly to her upper body. Arms are slender and well formed, often gesticulating a point. Kazra has changed her outfit along with her name, now sporting a vivid orange short sleeved top and a pair of black trousers. Her feet are covered with ankle length black boots that look rather worn, though sometimes Kazra kicks them off to wander around barefooted. Kazra wears the orange and black knot of an Ista Weyr Weyrlings, with a thin ribbon of brown trailing through it to indicate her lifemate. She is awake and looks alert. You notice Kazra looking at you. Kazra is 24 Turns, 2 months, and 17 days old. Xylyth Rich shades of soil encompass this brown's towering and imposing form completely, intermingling to form fresh shades and fathoms of earthiness where they fuse. Pale coffee tones spill over an angular muzzle and face seemingly carved from the earth, so fine is their detail, before giving way to muddy colourings that diffuse over well built shoulders and stomach, sleek muscle visible beneath silky hide, finally darkening to almost midnight shades at sweeping wings. Woven into these depths of night, as if by unseen magic, tendrils of deepest aubergine thread their way across the tautly spread membrane, surfacing to form cryptic symbols of colour then disappearing from view once more in a ritualistic dance of hide and seek. Continuing the rhythmic flow of colours, cinnamon and chocolate mix and intermingle over powerful back legs, while hints of gold seep into the shade of a perfectly formed tail. Xylyth's first set of straps are at first apperance, simple well oiled leather, fitting in all the right places. But on closer inspection, Kazra looks to have gone strange with a needle, and purple designs twist and turn in mystical and random patterns. Running down the centre of each strap, above the purple stitching are three thin threads of black, blue and orange, almost invisible against the brown leather unless you look closely. Looks like Kazra's sewing skills are improving. Xylyth is 9 months and 27 days old. He is 44 feet (14m) long, with a wingspan of 73 feet (24m). Xylyth senses Kazra looking at him. Xylyth seems to be listening. R'ian traipses easily out of the barracks. Bralath slides, with utter grace, out of the barracks. Bralath slides, with utter grace, toward the central bowl. B'ane blinks a few times as the gust of air brushes past his face from the take off. With a surpressed ache, he wishes he could be with his bronze. "I haven't had the opportunity to flag down any Weyrlingmasters for first flights yet." He says with a subtle dolor. Suddenly one of his firelizards sends an image of Tstar. "Hey, let's go!" B'ane traverses solidly toward the central bowl. Aboleoth arrives with callous swagger toward the central bowl. You go to the Central Bowl. Central Bowl You stand in the center of the Ista Weyr bowl. You feel small as you crane your neck to look into the sky, at the towering five pinnacles of the Weyr rim, so tall they seem to reach into the clouds. The bowl floor slopes gently upward to the southeast, where various tunnels lead to the hatching grounds, ground weyrs, and living caverns. Across the bowl to the northeast are the weyrling barracks and training grounds. You can see the Weyr's artificial waterfall as it sheets down along the northern wall of the Bowl, its pool concealed at the base of the bowl by an ethereal cloud of mist. West, the entire wall of the bowl has been blown out by some long-distant eruption, and you can see clear out to the ocean from here. The view is breathtaking. It is a summer noon. The bright sun is high and hot overhead, but the ocean breeze offsets it somewhat, blowing in from the east. The sky is clear, except for distant clouds to the east. Gliding about are Shinigami, Djau, Sanosuke, Silence, and Fusuke. Bronze Umeth, green Elbareth, bronze Bralath, and bronze Aboleoth are here. R'ian and B'ane are here. Obvious exits: Northeastern Bowl Plateau Southeastern Bowl R'ian Toffee-hued locks drape in patrician wooliness over the sculptured finish of ears and nose, traipsing the overpass of right, deep brown eye at random intervals. Firm features hold their own amid the tawny hues of his Southern tan, matched by the even finish of his lengthy, leggy body and slim, lithe torso. Favoured with a quirky smile, he retains a boyish air to conrast the golden-brown stubble of his upper lip; age countered by youth. His outfit is evidently a uniform, made up of black slacks folded into the tops of his heavy-duty, hard wearing brown boots. Over the top of this, a simple orange tunic is worn, falling down to just on his thigh and carefuly held in place with a simple, thin leather belt. Pinned upon his shirt is a double corded, single looped knot of orange and black, strung with an extra strand of bronze. He is awake and looks alert. Carrying: Parvuli R'ian is 18 Turns, 3 months, and 27 days old. Bralath Molten erupting rock cascades down craggy neckridges along this bronze's spine. The fiery red and orange mingles with blackened midnight char that traces its way down his shoulders like lava filling ridges and common trences. Lava streams down, burning rivers and lakes along his flanks and pooling into a leading edge of bright fire down his underbelly. Peaks of a deeper, earthy hue lay beside the volcanic explosion of colors, with glistening metallic soil gird his strong legs and ebon claws. His wings are transparent, yet tinged with the slightest hints of bronzen-ash and glittery speckles while sails are disproportioned to his sinewy compact body. Orbs radiate luminescence even in the depths of darkness, set parallel to a platinum muzzle 'neath deep, creviced eye ridges. Bralath is 9 months and 27 days old. He is 51 feet (17m) long, with a wingspan of 85 feet (28m). Bralath seems to be listening. Elbareth Aglimmer with the subtle sparkle of magic, a delicate silvery mist swirls about this dragon's petite form, insubstantial mystery cloaking her brilliant hues and hushing them to a pale whisper. Hints of emerald and turquoise intermingle over the refined curves of her head, marbling and blending in an ethereal harmony that slips and escapes down the underside of her neck as it gradually fades to a ghostgum as elusive and unsubstantial as moonlight over the slim camber of her underbelly. An illusion of pallid gold gleams tangled around her forehead, celestial glory exquisite but concealed with all her mysterious beauty behind the wisps of iridescence. Echos of spring gold tips each neckridge with a fleeting shimmer of a fickle kiss, flightily catching the light with an abandon equalled by the may and grass-green vines tumbling and weaving over her wingbones. Caught in the whimsical interlacing, rose, primrose and morning glory blossoms -- all gently kissed by faintest silver stardust -- peek out from behind the fog, some shaken free to float amongst the pearly chartreuse of her membrane as stars of colour. Shadowing her wings, starlight falls on her haunches, argent caress rippling in a silky smooth gloss to highlight the luxuriant curves of a serpentine tail at odds with her otherwise diminutive proportions. The faerie dust glow has taken on a wilder glitter the first signs of proddiness. Black as midnight, and as lack luster, strap around the Elbareth's forest and faerie dust neck. They're new, showing almost no marks of wear, though the extra length in the strap, for a growing dragon, indicates they probably won't stay that way for long. Silver glitters and dances like stars through the black, the stitching done in a seemingly delicate silver threading, sparkling against the otherwise brooding hues, spangling and teasing it with brilliance. Astride Elbareth is Tstar. Elbareth is 3 Turns, 11 months, and 19 days old. She is 41 feet (13m) long, with a wingspan of 68 feet (22m). Elbareth seems to be listening. Nya prowls along in from the Northeastern Bowl. Tstar She is a tall female, standing 5'8. Her long fingered, nimble hands generally reside behind her back. Her red/gold hair, once down to her waist, is shorn down to a peach fuzz across the top of her head, victim of some candidates's sheers? Her face is built on harsh angles, giving her a sinister, if somewhat aristocratic appearance, only accentuated by the slight but noticeable scar running from her right ear to the middle of the same cheek. Her piercing green eyes flame like fired emerald daggers. Only her mouth belies this roguish appearance. Its full lips seem to want to twitch up into a smile. Though the smile rarely manifests itself in full genuine form, when it does appear it is enough to win over the most cynical of masters. Her face is blank of much expression, and what expression does cross her features gives the impression of a mask. She is often to be found propping up the architecture. You can't tell what she's wearing from this distance. Straped around Tstar's waist is a belt with an attched knife and pouch. Samwise perches lazily on Tstar's left shoulder. She is awake and looks alert. Tstar is 26 Turns, 8 months, and 12 days old. Tstar has no apparent threadscoring. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar waits in the central bowl as her charges appear then calls out. "Form up!" Clearly enough to carry across the bowl. Elbareth takes her position at the point of the formation. "Unless you don't want to learn to fly today ,then go back to the barracks and start scrubbing them." R'ian wipes sweaty fingers down his breeches, Bralath's footfalls pounding ahead against his more sedate stride. The weyrling salutes, shifty smile exchanged amid fellow weyrlings, attention falling rapidly back to Tstar as lips break into broad-edged smile. He falls into position readily, Bralath suitably enthused in stance of his own, hands drawn rapidly to rest by his sides. Nya skips in alongside Rionath, who's own stride is rather placid. No sense in rushing, they'll get there pretty much the same time. Righting herself to give the Assistant Weyrlingmaster a quick salute, Nya dips her head in greeting to her fellow Weyrlings, rubbing her hands together readily. Aforementioned green slinks into her formation, with the blonde-haired Weyrling following wordlessly, awaiting Tstar's command to check the straps and mount their dragons. Etc. Kazra gives a general salute to the whole area, before hurrying to catch up with Xylyth who has already taken his position and is thumping his tail on the ground. "Easy." Kazra soothes the impatient brown, before grinning at her fellow weyrlings. "He's excited." she informs them needlessly. So's she by the amount of drivel that she's talking. B'ane clicks his heels together, and is glad to be alfresco once more. Aboleoth, having still been airborne by himself, lands a breadth away and moves contiguously to his Bond. Pinions locked to his dorsum and head raised perpendicular to his neck, he awaits the next order from Tstar. This is a milestone that both have been waiting for since birth. Nya glances over at Kazra, her lips curling into a grin. "Aye, I'm assured they all are." One would hope it never stopped. Rionath awaits, wings ruffling in the breeze contentedly, tail curled about her body. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar chuckles and swings up on Elbareth's back. "I'll keep the lecture short. STay in line. Do exactly what I say and use the good sense you were born with and you'll be just fine. We're going to the Star Stones and back again. AFter today you will be permited to practice flying every day. A little farther every day." R'ian repeats his salute, acknowledgement of the lecture manifest within the movement. Bralath, wings oustretched past the spar, leech outspread, lifts himself upon his limbs, tail flicking. "This should be fun," decides his rider, briefly hesitant, but firm in his tone. Kazra nods her acknowledgement of the instructions, her expression intense as she concentrates. She takes her position beside Xylyth, one hand resting on the straps ready for the command to mount to come. "Even to the Star Stones will be fine, won't it XY." she mutters to the brown, who spreads purple veined wings slightly in answer. B'ane consumes Tstar's words as soon as they escape from her mouth. Satisfied that he and his dragon are both physically prepared, the bronzer successfully contains his excitement remaining collected and alert. Aboleoth too, endures patiently, his eyes gyrating slow waves of lapis lazuli. Nya awaits just as they all do, her head set on a cant that allows her to see .. everything. High above, Uillauth glides, wings outstretched, across the bowl from the northeast. High above, Uillauth folds his wings a little and descends. Uillauth spirals down for a landing. <Local> Xylyth senses that Elbareth unfolds in your minds like a web of purring vines. >>Just take off like you've been practicing alone. They have strapps on. They'll be just fine.<< From Elbareth's neck, Tstar lets them wait a moment before having Elb pass the word to lift off to the weyrling dragons. The green lifts upwards, leaving it to her rider to make sure all the Weyrlings make it off the ground with, or without incident. <Local> Xylyth senses that Bralath's mind radiates russet and crimson; low range deepening further as earthy thoughts surface within distinct moments. << It will be good. >> No lack of confidence, here. Uillauth spreads powerful wings as he descends to the floor of the bowl. Powerful legs cushioning the shock as his large body is once more earth-bound. Snaking his sinous neck towards his rider, large eyes whirl in delightful turquoise tones. <Local> Xylyth senses that Rionath shuffles, tones spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg entwining with loops of scarlet, << It /will/ be good. >> She mirrors Bralath, nonchalant tone lilting across her words. <Local> Xylyth senses that he drifts in wisps of jade, blossoming carefully upward <<We will fly. It will be good. Everything will go well.>> Citrus tangs beneath the calm wisps, underlying excitement. From Uillauth's neck, Ali loosens the clasps on her jacket, letting it fall open and allow in a little air. Noting the class in progress, she grins, and rubs on of her glove covered hands across her own lifemate's hide. "Looks like first flight practice, doesn't it, 'lauth?" she notes aloud, her voice soft in an effort to keep from distracting the weyrlings. One at a time, her blue wherhide gloves are pulled from her hands and shoved deep into her coat pockets. <Local> Xylyth senses that Aboleoth reflects, the apparent clairvoyance already stating most of what he could have said. A sequence of molten, mellowed sounds roll from deep within, his words being metamorphosed instead to sounds. Uillauth rumbles quietly and turns his sculpted features once more to the younger dragons. Eyes continue to whirl, soft and slow in dormant mood. Mucsles bunch and flex as he lowers his torso to allow his petite rider to dismount if she wishes. You ascend up Xylyth's side and settle in between earthen ridges, while Xylyth eyes you curiuosly. Xylyth [Central Bowl] Rich shades of soil encompass this brown's towering and imposing form completely, intermingling to form fresh shades and fathoms of earthiness where they fuse. Pale coffee tones spill over an angular muzzle and face seemingly carved from the earth, so fine is their detail, before giving way to muddy colourings that diffuse over well built shoulders and stomach, sleek muscle visible beneath silky hide, finally darkening to almost midnight shades at sweeping wings. Woven into these depths of night, as if by unseen magic, tendrils of deepest aubergine thread their way across the tautly spread membrane, surfacing to form cryptic symbols of colour then disappearing from view once more in a ritualistic dance of hide and seek. Continuing the rhythmic flow of colours, cinnamon and chocolate mix and intermingle over powerful back legs, while hints of gold seep into the shade of a perfectly formed tail. Xylyth's first set of straps are at first apperance, simple well oiled leather, fitting in all the right places. But on closer inspection, Kazra looks to have gone strange with a needle, and purple designs twist and turn in mystical and random patterns. Running down the centre of each strap, above the purple stitching are three thin threads of black, blue and orange, almost invisible against the brown leather unless you look closely. Looks like Kazra's sewing skills are improving. Xylyth seems to be listening. R'ian uses the loops provided upon Bralath's straps to climb up into a comfortable position between two of his bronze neckridges. B'ane ascends to Aboleoth's neck and settles between two neckridges colored a liquid bronze alloy. Tstar swings up between two of Elbareth's neckridges stiring a faint gleam of silver faerie dust. Elbareth takes off. Djarreth spirals down for a landing. Kazra takes a firmer grip on the straps, and like she's practised, clambers up her brown's side and slides in between brown ridges. She fastens the straps to her belt, then does another check. Xylyth extends his wings fully, before leaping into the air, with a startled "Eeep!" emanating from Kazra. Xylyth rumbles with pleasure. He and Kazra /fly/. You take off. Sky over Central Bowl Ista heat breeds whirling, swirling, dragon-tossing thermals that send you up over the bowl and off towards the east. Here, beneath the towering pinnacles of the Weyr's jagged rim, ledges dot the cliffside and tier down to the hatching grounds to southeast just beyond queen's weyrs and living cavern, and to the northeast the weyrling barracks and training ground are made of hard pounded earth and ash-pits It is a summer noon. The bright sun is high and hot overhead, but the ocean breeze offsets it somewhat, blowing in from the east. The sky is clear, except for distant clouds to the east. Green Elbareth is here. Obvious exits: Down Northeastern Bowl Southeastern Bowl Plateau Ledges Bralath takes off from the central bowl. Pyxis> From Uillauth's neck, Ali pulls her riding cap off her head, letting her hair drape loosely across her shoulders, and kicks her right leg up over Uillauth's neck. With a well-practiced motion, she slips down from her perch and to the brown foreleg, then hops to the ground. With a grin, she tilts her head back, watching the weyrlings as they lift off, one by one, on what seems to be their first flights. Pyxis> Djarreth extends his neck, eyes whirling as he watches the weyrlings finally fly. His head moves as he follows their every movement. Suddenly he rears back on his haunches, wings spread to give him balance, and warbles a joyful note to those airborne. Kita is still mounted upon his back and grips a neckridge tightly. Elbareth hovers waiting for the weyrlings to catch up. Tstar crains back a bit checking their formation, though precision /flying/ will come later. Right now she's just checking for the basics, and hovering skills. >>Tstar says for me to tell you to tell your riders, to have you tell me, if you're feeling any strain.<< A slight sigh on the part of the green. >>When some of you are bigger than I am, I don't see why she's worrying.<< Bralath's wings hold firm, shifting up and down as practiced strokes gain ease. Here, larger wingsails find their place, swooping strokes gaining in frequency as confidence holds firm on dragon's flight. "I think I'm--" begins R'ian, the finished sentence lost to the winds, and the sheer bouyancy of flight. Smooth - rich, and deep - Bralath's response is light; << We'll be fine. >> Pyxis> From Aboleoth's neck, Craning his neck to check his rider's current state off affairs, Aboleoth sees that all is proper. Alae are unfurled, the light caressing the surface of them fondly and the dragon rears up onto his hind quarters. Flanks tense, muscles coil and with a deringdoed vault the two are aloft. Aboleoth takes off from the central bowl. Xylyth hovers in the right position, with Kazra peering around in astonishement. "Whoo." is her muttered comment. <<We are fine. We finally fly.>> is the comment that comes from Xylyth, directed at the weyrlings, and Kazra. Kazra herself, is now peering downwards, seeing if she's bothered by heights. In the absence of her face turning green, she isn't. From Aboleoth's neck, Adjusting his pinions to accommodate the pockets of warm air, Aboleoth trumpets powerfully with a sound that threatens to split the heavens above. B'ane observes his colleagues with a proud grin, his spirit no longer earthbound. This can compare to no other experience and never was there anyone happier to be a dragonrider. Pyxis> Ali slips, with practiced ease, down from Uillauth's neck, landing lightly on the ground beside him. It is not the spirit this Assistant Weyrling Master and her lifemate are concerned about. Tstar is only worrying about their /dragons/ remaining earthbound. She doesn't shout, the wind making hearing far too problematic. She simply points her entire arm at the Star stones and gives the signal to follow her. Sky over Central Bowl Ista heat breeds whirling, swirling, dragon-tossing thermals that send you up over the bowl and off towards the east. Here, beneath the towering pinnacles of the Weyr's jagged rim, ledges dot the cliffside and tier down to the hatching grounds to southeast just beyond queen's weyrs and living cavern, and to the northeast the weyrling barracks and training ground are made of hard pounded earth and ash-pits It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Green Elbareth, bronze Bralath, bronze Aboleoth, and blue Valanth are here. Obvious exits: Down Northeastern Bowl Southeastern Bowl Plateau Ledges From Bralath's neck, R'ian leans forward, holding tight to the straps that seem suddenly more stable than the neckridges through which they're strung. They're *moving* - and it's scary. The bronze is less unsure; his wings carry him higher and further, ripples of volcanic rock shuddering as muscles contract to push further towards the Star Stones themselves. Xylyth beats his wings easily, moving himself and Kazra forward, purple streaks twisting with each stroke. Kazra releases her hold on the straps and tries to sit straighter, blinking as the wind brushes her. Xylyth follows Elbareth onwards and upwards. Pyxis> Uillauth bellows in acccompaniment to the other browns joyful bugle, neck now snaking to watch the youngsters fly, with riders. Eye-whirl is no longer dormant, but spinning wildy, obviously this is a moment of great joy. Pyxis> Kita smiles at the younger brown as she dismounts, noting that his excitement echoes that of her own dragon. Djarreth now has his four legs on the ground, but he continually shifts his weight from foot to foot as he attempts to follow the skyward movements of the weyrlings. "Brings back a few memories, doesn't it?" she asks of Ali as she strides over to her. Aboleoth lands in the central bowl. Pyxis> "Kita! Hello there!" Ali calls out, wiggling her fingers in the elder brownrider's direction. "Definitely memories that no 'rider ever forgets," she agrees, giving a quick nod of her head. "The first flight is always the most memorable, and it really looks like this group is doing a great job of it." Elbareth rumbles encouragingly back at the weyrlings. >>Now, follow me, you know how to fly or you wouldn't be alowed to carry /them/.<< An image of the young dragons riders is supplied here. The green angles up higher, soaring up far over the bowl, almost at the level of the Star stones. Elbareth soars upward on a thermal. Above, Elbareth soars up from below, riding a thermal. Bralath soars upward on a thermal. Above, Bralath soars up from below, riding a thermal. You soar upward on a thermal. Sky High Over Central Bowl Thermal updrafts carry you easily over the Ista Weyr bowl. The warm sea breeze blows in from the ocean to the west, filling the bowl with whirling air currents. Towering above you, the five pointed pinnacles of the Weyr Rim reach skyward in an impressive display. The Weyr bowl stretches away to the northeast and southeast, and to the west lies the plateau, beaches, and ocean. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Green Elbareth and bronze Bralath are here. Obvious exits: Up Northeastern Bowl Southeastern Bowl Plateau Ledges Bralath finds a comfortable thermal to press against, propelled forwards with great agility; lengthy wings prove advantageous, lifting higher and faster, although R'ian's expression is less certain of this 'benefit'. The boy - man? - leans forward further, face white as the wind whips through his hair, tousling the tousled locks. Oh boy. In the bowl far below, Djarreth suddenly snorts, an exhalation of tension as a wayward weyrling and his dragon perform an acrobatic manouvre neither are experienced enough to handle. A slight tinge of yellow seeps into his eyes, and Kita winces as she hears his ferocious mindtone disciplining the pair. "They've been a great group," Kita agrees. "Oh sure, on occassion one or two of them have done wrong, and managed to get the entire weyrling wing punished, but none of them have risked their dragon. Sort of," she adds, looking pointedly at the pair Djarreth had just severely scolded. Xylyth flies ever upwards and onwards, following the green that is leading. Up, up and away seems to be the motto of the day. <<We follow.>> he says simply to the older and wiser green. In the bowl far below, Ali winces as she watches the same pair in the air, and shakes her head, tongue clicking against the side of her mouth, "And you know, that's the pair that T'rell's going to want in Wavecutter, leaving me to work with." As another pair, bronze, shifts across the bowl and heads back in the direction of the barracks, her eyes follow for a split second, and then she grins, "I haven't had the chance to get to know many of them, but they do seem like a good bunch." Elbareth flows north eastward. She seems to check herself briefly, as if she'd intended to do something but her rider had thought better of it. >>No tricks or acrobatics<< Is the soft regretfull sigh at the minds of the weyrlings. >>Says that comes /after/ you can between and fight thread and have your full growth.<< Elbareth floats northeast across the bowl. Pyxis> High above, Elbareth floats northeast across the bowl. You fly northeast across the bowl. Sky High Over Northeastern Bowl You're flying nearly level with the Weyr's towering pinnacles, at this height. Far below you can see the Weyrling training grounds, and the waterfall pool. Numerous ledges line the Weyr wall here. And above you to the north are the Weyr's Star Stones and watchrider's post. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. To the southwest, you see Bralath. Green Elbareth is here. Obvious exits: Star Stones Center Bowl Forest Pools Ledges Pyxis> High above, Xylyth flaps with exuberance northeast across the bowl. To the southwest, Bralath's not the type to pout: instead, he swoops as un-acrobatically as he positively can, after Elbareth. Hah. To the southwest, Bralath flies northeast across the bowl. Pyxis> High above, Bralath flies northeast across the bowl. Bralath flies across the bowl from the southwest. Pyxis> "Maybe T'rell wants them in Wavecutter because you can keep an eye on them and temper down that daring bravado they seem to have too much of." At a final show of foolhardiness, Djarreth extends his neck to it's full length and bellows, the sound echoing across the bowl and no doubt reaching the ears of the foolish weyrlings. Chastised, the two land and humbly walk back to the barracks. "You're grounded for a sevenday, Stoo'pid! And if Foolth didn't need the flight exercise, I'd make it a couple of sevendays!!" Kita yells out to their retreating form. Djarreth lumbers away from his rider, following the weyrlings. "Oh- shall we follow?" Kita asks of her fellow brownie. Pyxis> "That depends," Ali replies with a lift of her shoulders, "on whether you want to spend the next bit of the day scolding weyrlings or having lunch." She watches as the pair, followed by a much larger Djarreth, move toward the barracks and then returns her attention to Kita, shrugging again, "They're your jurisdiction, not mine." Elbareth sighs spying the starstones. >>I am instructed to have you land. You will be given further instructions from there...<< If Tstar enjoys the order of the job, Elbareth is marginally annoyed by all the restrictions. Tstar smiles at the Weyrling then signals Elbaerth to land. Elbareth maneuvers for a landing at the star stones. Bralath maneuvers for a landing at the star stones. You maneuver for a landing at the star stones. Star Stones The view here is startling and magificient as the whole Weyr is laid out before your eyes. As you scan the horizon you can easily see why this is a favored firelizard basking spot when the weather is clear. Quietly resting in the shadow of star stones, that has served countless generations at the Weyr providing warning as turns of Threadfall approach, you can only wonder at the view and the ancients that created the star stones. There is a small shelter for the watchrider and drum station. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Green Almirath, green Elbareth, and bronze Bralath are here. You see Big Viewer here. You notice Danae asleep here. Obvious exits: Fly From Elbareth's neck, Tstar nods and grins. "Excelent job, both of you! Now. For the time being I want you to avoid acrobatics. Just get used to flying with your lifemates. Once a day, perhaps twice with the permission of one of us." Meaning the AWLM's or WLM. "Also, advance warning, Now that you're flying, the favored punishment by most of the higher ups will be to ground you for however long they feel like it." She grins wickedly. "I'll just keep having you scrub latrines and couches. From Bralath's neck, R'ian's pale face gains some kind of pigment, as Bralath's mostly graceful landing ensures he's back upon solid ground. "Yes, Assistant Weyrlingmaster," he recites, as if by rote, nodding his head. Bralath, wings still outstretched in exuberance of flight, huffs up towards him, as if concerned for the boy. "'m fine, Bralath, just fine." Kazra lets out a sigh as Xylyth lands at the Star Stones, before she takes in the instructions that Tstar is giving out. "Yes ma'am." she says, before grinning down at Xylyth. "We fly!" she mutters to the brown, who bugles an agreement to his rider, and his thanks to Elbareth and Tstar. He likes them. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar chuckles softly at R'ian. "You /will/ get used to it. Trust me. If you suffer from motion sickness there's a pot with pills in your barracks. Now that you're flying you'll soon be choosing your weyrs. Elbareth gives a flirtatious croon to first brown then bronze, settling her wings neatly by her side. "Also to be noted... once you have your own Weyrs certain ah... /other/ restrictions are lifted, so long as you are descrete." From Bralath's neck, R'ian gives a hesitant nod, his tousled, knotted hair falling into further disarray over the movement. "Thank you," he responds, attempting what is apparently a smile. "Other restri--oh." His face lifts - if only slightly - and he nods once more. Bralath regards Elbareth thoughtfully for a moment, huffing, and then sidestepping further away. She's only a girl. Kazra grins at the mention of the restrictions being lifted, and of being discrete. "Is there anywhere that you would recommend to have a weyr ma'am?" she asks, before eyes glaze briefly. "Yes, I know that you've seen a place that you like Xy, but its good to ask for advice as well, no?" Random comments from the Kazra there. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar considers a moment. "High over the North Eastern bowl is less crowded. If you wish privacy, I recomend bowl locations, as the Forests tend to have a great many dragons comming and going from them..." Again part of descression? From Bralath's neck, R'ian leans back, rubbing at his right knee thoughtfully. "I think we may just have to look everyone, to try and find something suitable. It's difficult." Such a huge decision: where to live. Kazra nods at the advice given and considers. "We'll have a good look around." and her face cracks in a grin as she realises that they /both/ can. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar chuckles and nods. "now can I trust you to get back to the barracks on your own without hurting yourselves or your lifemates?" She eyes the both of them, though Elbareth's thoughtfull gaze is on the bronze. Someone needs to teach him that there is no such thing as /only/ a girl... Bralath, entirely oblivious to Elbareth's gaze upon him, warbles soundly, R'ian laughing nervously at something the dragon has noted. "*He* believes so, and I'm not so--unwilling, as to believe him." He straightens, face regaining full colour, hand moving to shift through his hair to tidy it--a failed gesture if ever there was one. "We can make it back safely ma'am." Kazra says softly, with Xylyth crooning an agreement. Not that he wants to go down, but if they have to...Kazra affectiontly pats the browns neck. "We'll be up again soon." she tells him. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar chuckles and nods. "Just be carefull. You know your life mates. I'd recomend restraint until /they/ are completely mature. Though it isn't quite as critical for you as it is for the green riders." She grins at them. "Now, dismissed." From Bralath's neck, "Thank you," says R'ian, sincerely, his head dipping once more towards Tstar, and then a grin sent off to Kazra, cheerful - so far. "I suppose...no, we'll just have to see. It requires having *someone* one wants to get that close to." Bralath huffs, unamused, but R'ian only grins. "Hush, you." "Thank you ma'am." Kazra says formally before grinning back at R'ian. "Shall we head downwards now?" she asks her fellow weyrling, still grinning. If you ever lose Kazra in the future, check the air. From Elbareth's neck, Tstar remembers those feelings only too well. "go for it. And just remember, don't let your lifemates strain themselves or you'll be grounded until they heal." Not out of punishment, but just cold practicality. From Bralath's neck, R'ian responds to Kazra's grin with one of his own, broad smile unabated by the sheer terror of having to fly back down - the experience made altogether different by it being one's own lifemate, rather than someone else's. "All right," he agrees, head bobbing, tawny locks moving in time - and continuing after the movement stops. "Let's." He pauses once more, Tstar's comments drawing a thoughtful grimace. "Thank you. We'll be careful, I'm sure." Kazra pats Xylyth's neck. "Okay, lets head down." she says softely, with Xylyth extending his wings carefully and givig then a few practise sweeps as he prepares to take of again. Whee! From Elbareth's neck, Tstar shakes her head. What a group. One terrified the other extatic... now if only she could manage to average the two she'd be happy. Bralath needs no second prompting: he hesitates but once, and then pushes up - up, up, and away! Bralath takes off. You take off. Sky High Over Northeastern Bowl You're flying nearly level with the Weyr's towering pinnacles, at this height. Far below you can see the Weyrling training grounds, and the waterfall pool. Numerous ledges line the Weyr wall here. And above you to the north are the Weyr's Star Stones and watchrider's post. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Bronze Bralath is here. Obvious exits: Star Stones Center Bowl Forest Pools Ledges You fly southwest across the bowl. Sky High Over Central Bowl Thermal updrafts carry you easily over the Ista Weyr bowl. The warm sea breeze blows in from the ocean to the west, filling the bowl with whirling air currents. Towering above you, the five pointed pinnacles of the Weyr Rim reach skyward in an impressive display. The Weyr bowl stretches away to the northeast and southeast, and to the west lies the plateau, beaches, and ocean. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. To the northeast, you see Bralath. Obvious exits: Up Northeastern Bowl Southeastern Bowl Plateau Ledges Bralath flies across the bowl from the northeast. You fold your wings a little and descend. Sky over Central Bowl Ista heat breeds whirling, swirling, dragon-tossing thermals that send you up over the bowl and off towards the east. Here, beneath the towering pinnacles of the Weyr's jagged rim, ledges dot the cliffside and tier down to the hatching grounds to southeast just beyond queen's weyrs and living cavern, and to the northeast the weyrling barracks and training ground are made of hard pounded earth and ash-pits It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Above, you see Bralath. Obvious exits: Down Northeastern Bowl Southeastern Bowl Plateau Ledges Above, Bralath folds his wings a little and descends. Bralath descends from above. You glide down for a landing. Central Bowl You stand in the center of the Ista Weyr bowl. You feel small as you crane your neck to look into the sky, at the towering five pinnacles of the Weyr rim, so tall they seem to reach into the clouds. The bowl floor slopes gently upward to the southeast, where various tunnels lead to the hatching grounds, ground weyrs, and living caverns. Across the bowl to the northeast are the weyrling barracks and training grounds. You can see the Weyr's artificial waterfall as it sheets down along the northern wall of the Bowl, its pool concealed at the base of the bowl by an ethereal cloud of mist. West, the entire wall of the bowl has been blown out by some long-distant eruption, and you can see clear out to the ocean from here. The view is breathtaking. It is a summer afternoon. The sun sinks westward over the land, its blazing heat only moderated by the sea breezes coming from the ocean. White cumulus clouds begin to roll in from the east. Gliding about are Shinigami, Djau, Sanosuke, Silence, Fusuke, and Pyxis. Bronze Umeth and green Rionath are here. Obvious exits: Northeastern Bowl Plateau Southeastern Bowl |
| They Fly! |