All references to worlds and characters based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyright Anne McCaffrey, 1967, 2000, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey. This is a roleplay log from PernMUSH at pern.mccr.org port 4201.

Ista Weyr Infirmary

This is a very long room, large enough to fit all but bronze and gold dragons, with a small alcove at the back. The stone couch along one wall is covered with a bed of fresh rushes. There are several cabinets on the walls and beneath the counters. At the end of one counter is a deep sink, with spouts for hot and cold water. A large white circle has been painted decoratively on one wall, with a purple caduceus in the center. Newly painted on the opposite wall is a yellow circle with a purple border, with a purple dragon in the center. You can see several cots in the alcove at the back of the room. A curtained doorway leads into the Weyrhealer's office, and a short tunnel leads out to the bowl.

A wide-open archway leads back out into the bowl.

Ouryn walks into the infirmary.
Melata walks into the infirmary.
Melata comes in from the bowl, looking thoughly confused, but appears to be a little more confident as she finds herself in the infirmary...just where she wanted to be.
Shuffling through a handful of hide Records, annotating supplies and bandages in current stock for the infirmary, Steward Ouryn glances up distractedly and offers a warm smile to Melata/ "Ista's duties to the 'Reaches and her queens," he tells the rider.
Well, it's not where Langley wants to be. At least, she doesn't look exactly thrilled - which probably has a lot to do with the fact that she's seated at a table with a mound of what looks like rolled - and unrolled - gauze, sighing as she 'works'. "Hm?" she says on Ouryn's comment, looking up and toward the new entrant. "Oh. Yes. Ista's duties," she adds with sighed formality.
Melata nods to the Steward, and only provisionally to the infirmary assistant, "Reaches duties to Ista. Say, is the Healer around here anywhere? I'm on errand duty, me, a Wingleader...." Melata sighs, "...not that that means much when the 'Healer needs this delivered right away,' and so forth."
Melata pats a satchel slung across her shoulders. A very full satchel.
Melata rolls her eyes over the demands of Weyrhealers.
Ouryn chuckles wryly, knowing that look Melata currently wears. "She's actually off in one of the forest weyrs tending to her victims - ahh, her patients," the Steward explains. "Langley here is your best choice for anyting involving the infirmary right now. I'm simply taking inventory," he nods to his Records with a modest bow.
Langley wrinkles up her nose as she sets another tidily rolled bandage on top of her pile. "Some apprentice stuck his head in a while ago to tell me to tell what's-her-name that he was going to bed," she offers just a *touch* bitterly, as if she might enjoy doing something similar. "You could leave it here if you want." She gestures to her table, which seems to be lacking room presently.
Melata gives Langley a skeptical look. "Well, if you are sure." She unhooks the satchel from herself and hands it over. IT is full of hides, which in turn are full of lists and lists and lists, all in a minute hand. "And I've a few things strapped on my dragon as well. The things are a bit on the bulky and smelly side. Smells like, well, numbweed, but seems to me most medical things smell of numbweed."
Melata asks, "Thinks someone could give me a hand?"
Langley tries to look *very* intent on her work the moment the word 'numbweed' enters the picture. In fact, she even adopts a sort of absent, not-paying-very-much-attention tone when she says, "I'll make sure it gets passed along." Roll, roll, roll. (Someone obviously doesn't like numbweed.)
Raising a brow softly at Langley's sour expression, Ory nods briskly, and setting his stylus aside, takes the satchel from the rider with a smile and a grunt from the weight. "Langley, if you please, assist our guest with her needs?" the Steward asks politely, not wanting to disturb the woman's bitterness more than necessary.
Melata continues to looks at Langley. The reqquest was likely not a request, but a nicely phrased order. She is a Wingleader, after all, and has been for many, many turns, and is used to having people follow her 'suggestions'.
Melata isn't going to ask someone like a Steward, after all, when a perfectly able infirmary body will do.
Holding one of those little rolls of bandage in one hand, Langley looks sideways at Ouryn, as if contemplating just what kind of force it would take to make the thing hit him in the face. Hmmmm. "Of course," she demures, getting up with a painted smile. "Always glad to help." Hrumph.
Melata nods happily, leading Langley out to the parked dragon.
Melata walks out into the bowl.
Langley follows along. Not happily, but at least she's not complaining openly! (Yet.)
You move into the windy expanse of the bowl.

Ista Weyr Bowl -- Southeast

Clusters of dragons group around the large entrance to the living cavern. Smaller entrances line up to lead to the lower caverns and the infirmary. Smoke issues forth from square holes cut into the mountain high above the living cavern. The bowl extends to the northwest, and high above, the southernmost points of the spindles reach for the sky.
The sunset bathes the northeastern side of the bowl in red light.
Ruddy evening light filters down from the clear summer sky, over the bustle of the active Weyr. Stiff winds howl around the peaks, through the forests, and along the beaches, driving heavy surf far up the black sand. The temperature hovers in the comfortable range, while visibility is excellent.


Weyrs and entrances to the lower caverns are visible on all three sides of the Weyr walls that bound you.

Ouryn moves out of the shadows of the infirmary's entrance.
Verenth rumbles very quietly as his rider comes out to remove the smelly medicine stuff from between his neck ridges. And it /is/ quite a load Verenth is caryying.
Ouryn smiles back just as sweetly, glad to see he's able to oil the cogs of helpful-handedness without any kicking and screaming and pulling of one's hair as he drags bodies out the doorway to work. He's certain no one would -ever- try to hit him with a roll of gauze, seeing as how he's the Steward.
Melata points, "This is Verneth, my blue. He's eager to rid himself of the cargo."
Melata is blue Verenth's rider, at HighReaches Weyr.
Langley would never *try*, but everyone ought to indulge their little fancies now and again... Anyway, she trundles out, dragging her sandalled heels as much as possible. "I bet," she comments, all but plugging her nose as she eyes the blue speculatively. "Numbweed..." Shudder.
Melata vaults up onto Verenth's back, as the dragon warbles a greeting.
Ouryn supresses a mysterious smile as he watches Langley drag her heels, shuffling through his Records as a good Steward ought. Yes, its a lovely day.
On Verenth, Melata climbs up on Verenth to untie the bundles. "Here," she yells, "let me hand them down." Shepicks up a squishy roll and tosses it down.
Verenth shifts slightly so that the roll tumbles. Melata stomps on his shoulder to be still.
Wincing, Langley hesitates between trying to catch the bundle and letting it fall to the ground. Of course, the hesitation solves it and she winces further when it hits. "Nothing broke!" she's quick to inform, hedging toward the parcel with obvious reluctance. "How many are there?" she inquires, taking up the first one and already starting back toward the infirmary.
On Verenth, Melata frowns down at the ground, and calls, "What if that had been breakable? The 'reaches Weyrhealer and your own would likely have had /fits/!"
On Verenth, Melata continues, "And it'll be done when it'll be done! Here, have another!"
Ouryn clucks his tongue, mostly at Melata who did not see how Langley struggled with the too-heavy burden as it was launched at her open hands from the back of Verenth. "I'd like to know too, if you happen to know Melata," the Steward explains in a touch of pity for Langley. "For the continued inventory."
Langley catches herself before she can mutter anything incriminating under her breath, and flashes a perfectly polished smile up at the bluerider. "Humblest apologies. Butterfingers, y'know." She scurries back to collect the second bundle before lugging both over her shoulders to ditch them inside the infirmary. No unpacking just yet. On the way, she sends a more genuine smile to Ouryn; so she's fickle, big deal.
On Verenth, Melata looks at the pile on Verneth's neck, "Not too much, actually. Just mostly smelly, squishy bundles. Healer stuff, I presume. Samples, or some such."
Verenth shirts some more, this time swinging his head in the way as the next bundle is tossed down. The bundle explodes, or at least squishes, all over the blue's head. He sneezes, then tries to rub his head in the dirt in front of Langley.
Ouryn involuntarily takes a step back, avoiding the explosions on Verenth's head as he shakes his own, dismayed at the mess.
On Verenth, Melata groans as Verenth continues to rub his head in the dirt, getting awfully close to Langley.
From afar, Melata mind if I have Verenth smear you with numbweed sample?
Langley grimaces, a wholly unattractive expression. "Okay, that was *not* my fault," she informs, back-pedalling several steps away from the blue and the... er... squishy stuff, falling flat on her rear-end in her haste. "Ew! Keepitaway!" she insists, scrabbling with an utter lack of dignity.
Verenth sucks in his breath and /snorts/ to get numbweed out of his face. His face is going, well, numb, as his is tongue, his mouth, and so forth. Eyes still closed, he turns his head and rubs numbweed sample and dragon slobber all over Langley, knocking her to the ground.
Melata hops down Verenth's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds.
Melata oh gads, and slides off her dragon's back, trying to push away the blue head without getting numb hands herself. "You okay?" she asks Langley.
Ouryn is too busy wiping something from his face, which splattered at the bundle's opening, to be of much use. His thick muttering is dark with rumbling curses at his displeasure, though not aimed at any person present.
Well, there's adding insult to near-injury. Langley, not only knocked to the bowl floor but now slippery and numb, breaks into a sudden fit of absolutely childish tears. "No!" she says temperamentally at Melata's question. "I'm dirty and slobbery and - " The hand she had been using to prop herself goes limp from the elbow down, and she wails some more. "And now I can't feel my arm! Or my foot! Or my nose!"
Ouryn tries to laugh even as he wipes the stinking numbweed from his face, thankful that none of it got into his eyes, only his nose and one side of his head. "L-langley? Is she injured?" he tries to peer over at the beslobbered, crying lass, concern knitting lines in his brow.
Verenth hears the cry, and risks opening one eye. It rolls yellow with concern.
Melata winces, "I'm sorry. Verenth says he is sorry too." She holds out one (gloved) hand to help the girl to her feet.
Verenth opens the other eye. Both begin to whirl a bit of blue in the yellow.
Langley certainly doesn't *look* hurt, aside from the weeping like a little girl that makes her face puffy and pretty much unattractive. "Or my ear!" Using one arm to get herself up off the ground a little ways, she manages to sit up and then tugs rather viciously on the offended appendage. "I should say so!" she snaps, sniffing as bravely as she can and taking the offered hand. Standing up is a comical affair, since she can't put any weight on her sensory deprived foot. Sniffle.
Ouryn wants to cover his rueful smile with his hands, but fears he has numbweed on his fingers as well, so simply gawks like an uncultured Hold bumpkin, barely able not to laugh aloud at poor Langley in her predicament.
Langley starts to shake a finger at the Steward, but it doesn't work since that's the hand she can't feel. "It's not funny!" she says tartly, peering at the arm that hangs useless from her elbow. "It's terrible! I'm dirty, and slobbery, and numb!" And about to start crying again if the quiver of her lip is any judge...
Verenth moves his head closer, head still wet with numbweed and gritty with dirt, to regard Langley.
Melata glares at the approaching head. "You've done enough trouble, you blue lump." Verenth, however, doesn't listen.
Ouryn sighs, supposing its asking too much for the numbweed to hit Langley's -mouth- instead of all her other limbs. "Well ... you seem able-bodied enough, making all that ruckus," he chuckles richly, making his way over to the lass, and the curious blue dragon.
Hobbling, all but hopping, Langley scurries out of the way of the dragon who started all this. "Yeah! You've done enough trouble," she's quick to echo, forgetting to cry in her concern for evading the dirty, gritty dragon.
Verenth cocks his head, then abruptly pushes Langley to the ground again, this time with a deliberate butting. He begins to make an odd crone, which is hampered by the fact his face is quite numb, causing him to drool uncontrolably.
And here Langley just managed to get control of herself again. Eyes, red with previously shed tears, water over again as she lands flat on her rump. "Stoppit! Just you stoppit!" she cries, very much like a kid being tormented by a zealous bully. "Make him stop," she appeals to the bluerider.
Melata is openly trying not to laugh. She shakes her head, "Here, girl, you need to help me get the rest of this stuff off my blue's back. Looks like you may be seeing a lot more of Verenth after this evening."
Shaking her head furiously, Langley says petulantly, "I don't *want* to. I can't even feel my foot or my arm. Go get someone else to help." With quivering lip, she makes a feeble attempt to find her feet - er, foot again, hobbling stupidly and scrubbing her eyes with her good hand. "...have a bath... good night's sleep..." Muttering under her breath.
Verenth begins to look quite worried, and quickly knocks Langley over again to drool upon her. Normally Verneth doesn't drool at all, but he can't help himself. He /creels/ again.
Melata ughs, and tries to intercept Verenth before he can knock the girl over again, failing. "Lass, didn't you hear me? Verenth /isn't/ going to let you leave here. You have no clue how sulky he can get. There are eggs on the sands at High Reaches, and he wants you to come back, numbweed and all."
Furious now, Langley thumps her (numb) leg with her (not numb) fist and says, "Will you just stop doing that! I don't like being drooled on!" She swats at her dampened person irritably and pastes on what's meant to be a threatening frown. "Go drool on him!" She points haphazardly at Ouryn. "It's cold there," she tells Melata without really thinking about the matter.
Melata looks at Ouryn with puzzlement. "Girl.. Are you deaf? High Reaches is in Search, and Verenth wants you to come back and stand for our Queen's eggs."
"But... but..." Langley scoots back away from the blue a little, still looking at him like she might punch him in the nose if he weren't, well, a dragon. "I - " She stutters for a few more seconds, and then all of the sudden lifts her chin. No doubt seeing this as some sort of meager salvage for shattered dignity, she clears her throat and says as graciously as she possibly can, "Very well, then. I'll do it." Like it was some great honor she just bestowed.
Verenth quietly regards you with a slowly spinning blue eye.
Melata groans and rolls her eyes, "It isn't just up to you, lass. Is your Steward, there, willing to part with you? We don't go just stealing people, you know."
Bringing his hands together in a slow applaud, the Steward of Ista bows to Melata and Candidate Langley. "Clear skies, Candidate," he wishes the lass with a smile and a wink.
Verenth stops creeling, although the drooling is still on-going. "Langley? Why don't you go and get your stuff. I'm sure I can find someone else to help me unload my dragon. Meet me back here shortly."
Langley makes a face over at Melata, which is difficult to do since she can't scruntch up an unfeeling nose. She mumbles something about "maybe not stealing, but an awful lot of slobbering" as she manages her feet once more, this time moving back quite a ways from the bothersome blue. "I still can't feel my toes, you know," she says a little impetuously, shaking her sandalled foot as she hobbles into the living caverns and beyond, no doubt.
You walk into the huge living cavern.
You walk down the corridor.
You walk into the residents' dormitory.
You slip beneath the well-worn archway into the cavern beyond.
You walk west into the living cavern.
You walk outside, into the bowl.
Melata asks, "You ready to go?"
Melata jumps up onto Verenth's back, using his foreleg as a step.
Let us not ask how Langley got together three rather large bags full of things in the space of a few moments, but she did it. Oversized is a good word for the 'luggage' that she and another girl haul out to the bowl, setting them down just outside the living caverns. "Quite, though I don't have a coat and my fingers are tingling," she tells Melata promptly.
On Verenth, Melata climbs onto Verenth to help Ouryn get her stuff up to the space recently vacated by numbweed samples.
On Verenth, Melata sighs, "There are pleanty of coats to be had at High Reaches, and is all that stuff really necessary? High Reaches supplies their Candidates with all that they need, and you'll be in barracks with many other people, so you won't have all that much room."
Langley says, with a toss of her chin, "Of course it's necessary. It's my *clothes*." All of them, apparently.
Ouryn rolls his eyes at Melata as though to say, 'she's all yours now'. "Fine choice!!" the Steward booms out, clapping Verenth on one blue flank, chuckling low in his throat. With a hefty toss, he manages to help the rider wrest the goods aboard, rolling his eyes with the effort - or is it mock-horror at the load?
Langley narrows her eyes a little at Ouryn as if to assure him she caught that look, but nonetheless manages to look the picture of (slightly limping) pride as she and the silent girl she managed to coerce into helping her heft the three bags toward the blue. "A little help would be nice," she says, heaving the bags toward the rider a little clumsily.
On Verenth, Melata helps get the bags on Verenth, then indicates how to mount Verneth.
Langley does this as awkwardly as one would expect...
"Yeeees, it would, now wouldn't it??" Ouryn laughs softly, half to himself. "One of the first duties of a Candidate is to be self-sufficient, and to obey when commanded," he offers helpfully to Langley's retreating backside. The Steward lifts his head to glance at Melata. 'Thank you,' his lips mouth the unspoken words.
Scrabbling, Langley nonetheless peers at Ouryn as if to mutely 'thank' him for his advice. Hmph.
You vault up onto Verenth's back, using his foreleg as a step.
Verenth quietly regards you with a slowly spinning blue eye.

Verenth
You are up at the base of Verenth's neck, just in front of the wings you can see out of the corner of your eye. This blue's lean, lithe form stretches before both before you and back, giving you the impression of speed and manuverability. The highlights of moonlight that are swirled over his dark hide are more noticable up here, as are the dark blue ribbons on his wings when you take the time to look in that direction.
Between you legs, you can feel the the quiet breathing of the blue, and every once in a while he peers over his shoulder with whirling eyes to make sure everything is alright. There is a complex series of straps about Verenth's neck. You may 'buckle' yourself in, or 'unbuckle' yourself if you are already straped in.

Melata looks over her shoulder at Langley, helps the other to buckle in, then waves as Verenth takes to the sky.
You rise into the air.
You climb with a powerful downbeat of your wings. The air is moist and scented with the sea, and the constant treacherous updrafts and cross-currents from the ocean blow around you as you climb higher above the bowl.
Melata calls, "You ready to between?"
Langley has probably done the whole dragonback thing before, but she still clutches like her life depends on it - at the dragon, the rider, the straps, you name it. "Uhm. Gulp. Yes." Her numb fingers try to tighten but don't work too well.
>> Verenth disappears into Between.
Between
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest!
You suddenly emerge...
Sky High in the Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
>> Verenth emerges from Between with a blast of cold air!
>> On the Star Stones, Ulanoth bugles loudly, welcoming Blue Verenth home.
You wing down in the bowl, towards the west wall.
You swoop down to a landing on the ground.
Langley gasps. Several times, in fact. "I *knew* I needed a coat," she can be heard to mutter around chattering teeth.
Melata says, "We are here. Time to get off."
Melata climbs down Verenth's side to the ground, as the dragon rumbles softly.
You vault down Verenth's side to the ground, using his straps as handholds.

Eastern Bowl, High Reaches Weyr
Standing on the eastern side of the bowl, you realize why this is one of the most striking Weyrs on Pern. Arrayed around the north rim of the bowl are the Seven Spindles: high crownlike points formed of old volcano flows which were eroded to sharp spikes. The bowl itself is a rough ovoid shape, with a large lake taking up a good portion of the southeastern part. The bowl seems to slant down to the lake shore, and the soil becomes a little looser in that direction. From the east, the slight aroma of herdbeast and wherry hide rises from the feeding grounds. The northeast section of the bowl is full of activity: training of dragons both young and old goes on in a large clearing near the entrance to the weyrling barracks and dragon infirmary. Several small boulders dot the area to the north, forming a winding path to the ledges leading into the weyrleaders' quarters.
The evening seems darker then normal due to the overcast skies which blot out the stars and moons. There seems to be a light breeze and the summer air temperature feels comfortable. 

Melata calls up, "You can get down, now."
Langley does. It's a messy experience, consistent of a little sliding, a little clutching, and at least one clipped wail. "I still can't feel my fingers," she informs a little tartly, shaking the digits emphatically but to no avail, and limping on the half-dead foot.
Melata says, "Well, grab your stuff and follow me to the barracks."
Melata strides into the candidate barracks.
Langley grabs her stuff, lugging it along after her so that the sack drags a little behind her. She tries to scurry, but only succeeds in a *slightly* faster walk.
You walk into the candidate barracks.

Candidate Barracks
This is a large, high ceilinged cavern cut from the rock. There are rows of depressions on the floor, couches for the young dragons who will soon live here. For now, cots have temporarily been brought in for the candidates while they bide their time, waiting for the exciting day when the eggs will hatch. Men keep to one side and women to the other. At the foot of each cot lies a small press for storing clothing and other small items.
The cavern has been decorated with old dragon tapestries hung on the walls, their colors slightly faded. A threadbare rug in the middle of the room bears the emblem of High Reaches Weyr, a mountain range in black on a dark blue field. A few low tables, chairs, and pillows have been scattered about the room, and baskets of glows placed strategically throughout the room keep the place well-lit. An opening in the southwest leads out into the Bowl.

Melata waves, "Well, here are the barracks. Pick a cot. I'll tell the Steward that you are here, and you'll be added to the Candidate chore board rather soon. Any questions?"
"Where should I put my clothes?" Langley asks promptly, looking over the cots just a little distastefully.
Melata says, "I warned you there wasn't much room in the barracks. On your cot, I presume. If you need to store things, there will be room, somewhere."
Melata nod to Langley, then heads out to the bowl to help get her dragon's head scrubbed off.
Melata meanders out to the bowl.
Langley looks very, very doubtful. "Okay," she says rather hesitantly, hefting the first of the three bags onto the tidiest cot she comes across. "Uhm, bye?"