6/19/2002

08:54 PM

Logfile from Sk'lar.

 

 

Look! See that? It's a glowing gold dragon! Annie's golden Serath flies in a Telgarian leadership flight soon ... Pre-flight rp (aka insanity) in Telgar Weyr's MLC starting nowish. Flight starting in half-an-hour-ish. [Everyone welcome to rp! NPCs and Igenites welcome to chase!]

Entered by Annie (#9180) at Wed Jun 19 20:48:45 2002 CDT

                                      

(Kahlendroth) Northern Curve of the Bowl

(Kahlendroth) A symphony of sounds resonate off the weathered face of the cliff as raucous activity dominates this side of the bowl. Wisps of conversations can be heard as weyrfolk to and from the living cavern while riders, brandishing full stomachs, head back to restless lifemates. Shallow grooves, made by powerful talons, mar the sandy floor and make walking a bit tricky as you try to navigate through patchy crowds of people in search of your next destination.

(Kahlendroth)    Light clouds wisk along high in the sky.   It is a fall evening.

(Kahlendroth) Flittering around, you see Elly-Phant and Repugno.

(Kahlendroth) The following dragons are here: Nhetoth, Lyssath, Khaleth, Yveseth, Dezaith, Aramyth, Daemoth, Njordth, Paenth, Azraeth, Saoirth, Kataneth, Asuenoth, Aiswenath, and Serath

(Kahlendroth) From here you can go:

(Kahlendroth) Central Bowl              Western Curve              Up                       

(Kahlendroth) Living Cavern             Eastern Curve                                       

(Kahlendroth) Tunnel                    Ground Weyrs                                        

 

 

Main Living Cavern

Melodic laughter rings throughout the spacious cavern as riders socialize with one another, boasting of adventures a-dragonback, and gossiping about stodgy wingleaders and sordid affairs. Drudges rush past you, their arms laden with dishes and mugs of Klah, desperate to relieve themselves of their burden while pesky 'lizards inhibit their progress.

The light from the glows warmly illuminates the domed cavern and shimmers off the walls as miniscule mineral particles reflect the soft lighting like twinkling stars blanketed in a wintry gray sky. Numerous tables lie scattered across the room, some large enough to hold a whole wing of riders while others were made only for two.  Towards the back, a large hearth breathes soul soothing warmth into weary bodies as its flames dance with hypnotic grace and puppet flickering shadows across the spacious stone stage.     Sultry, mouth-watering aromas float in from a small archway that leads to the kitchens while chattering can be heard emanating from a wide hallway.

Flopped atop various perches are Blazet, Fallon, Sanctus, and Mysti.

You see A small runnerbeast carving, kitten carving, Reni, and Telgar Weyr Menu here.

Annie and Ri are here.

From here you can go:

Lower Caverns             Bowl                       Infirmary                

Kitchen                   Gaming Room                                         

 

Annie is not busy. Annie is not lucky. Annie barely is. She is slouched in one of the head seats at the Weyrleaders' table, chin propped heavily in the upturned palm of one hand. A plate of untouched tuber-salad sits before her, accompanied by a full glass of wine. Brows knit, she stares at a very interesting point high on the ceiling, perhaps considering the best way to escape the Weyr without any pesky bronzeriders following. She's no dummy. She knows what's coming.

Annie just looked at you.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

 

Sk'lar trudges into the caverns at something close to a crawl, only he came in on two feet. Leather pack slides unceremoniously from his shoulder to plop just as lazily into the seat of a pulled-out chair. Two more steps and he is shrugging out of his jacket that is draped over the back of yet a different chair. Beat. And the jacket is falling to the floor. Ohhhh, how Sky would enjoy slumping onto the floor as well.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath lounges lazily near the entrance to the living caverns, deep in sleep. Her hide -- usually a matte desert gold -- simply /gleams/.

 

C'oot ambles into the living caverns, trailing a noxious cloud of yesterday's perfume, a wicked gleam in his craggy eyes.  He's put on his "Sunday's best" from the weathered brown jacket with the patches on the elbows to the eye-searing plaid trous that were -briefly- in fashion when he was young... a long, long time ago.  Lanky limbs a-knocking and shoulders bowed with age, the old fellow makes his way up to Annie's table to profer a wilting red bud to the goldrider.  "Fine day it's turned out ta be, eh, young miss?"

 

Ri looks up at the bronzer and considers asking him if he is done. But thinks twice and better of it. No need to get into yet another shouting match. Yet. Merely nods to him, if he sees it, fine.. if not? Shrug. A glass of juice is procured and she settles with the hides, while food is considered.

 

Eir has arrived.

Tarlin has arrived.

 

Annie's gaze falls from the ceiling, shifts warily across the caverns, then befalls C'oot. "Euh?" She eyes the flower suspiciously, reaching for her wineglass. "I thought it was rather horrible, myself." Contrary young miss, she is. Wine is sipped, and eyes flicker, sighting Sk'lar with obvious dismay. "Why aren't you on leave like I told you to?" she shouts across the bustling cavern at him.

 

And it is another pair of steps before Sky is drooping into a chair -again, thankfully pulled out and left that way by its last occupant. Elbows are rudely left upon the table as he slumps over as well to pillow his head upon folded arms. He'll just die right here, thank you very much. Any nods or other such looks his way are simply not seen, but Annie's bellowing is responded to with some sort of mumbling.

 

A few young, male riders sit hunched about their wineskin, eyes occasionally darting toward the goldrider. One mutters something distinctly off-color, and they all burst into laughter.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith folds his wings at his sides with angular precision as he is left to roost on the ground, a scowling, mute gargoyle - though more by genetics than temperment. Eyes gleam dully, when they're not half-shut, though Serath's idle form produces twin sparks from biological memory.

 

Tarlin bustles in from the kitchens, wiping her hands on a worn rag of a towel before tucking it into a front pocket of her apron.  With her passage wafts the scent of fresh bread and something else a little sweeter.  Dashing flour from her hair, she takes in the anxious crowd surrounding the Weyrwoman.  She frowns, mutters something to herself, and dashes back into the kitchens.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth is already settled upon the ground, looking rather sphynxlike as he patiently waits for his rider to emerge once more. He is in desperate need of a bath, as evidenced by the streaking lines of dirt from chest to hindquarters by the pull of the wind. Dust and whatnot also crests his head and basically dulls him, as compared to any dayglow golds in the vicinity.

 

Ri turns and stares at the rude riders, never mind they are not her skimmers.. right? A look meant to quell may bring laughter, but she will try anyway. a hissed.. "shush, she is your weyrwoman.." is sent towards them. "Umm Annie? He had to stay for messengering duty, remember?" And quakes, hoping she will remember that one smalld etail.

 

Eir fiddles with her message roll as she walks in, unhappy with its tendency to roll around from bony hip to bony hip. One hand grips the end like a sword hilt as the strolls briskly across the caverns - attempting to look, at least, like she's on official business. A shiver betrays her true purposes, however; where do they keep the sharding klah pots?

 

Annie offers the laughing riders and baleful glare, then lets her gaze again scan the cavern. She truly feels less than safe being here. Perhaps she should take her meal in her weyr. Sounds safer, what with all these /men/ on the loose. Tuber-salad is poked, wine is sipped. A bit of the wine splashes from her cup, staining the front of her shell-pink muumuu. She peers at the spreading stain and frowns, then the frown lifts to Ri. "Did you? I didn't recall. I just want him gone." Ah, and the truth emerges -- ulterior motives from the beginning!

 

(Kahlendroth) Chesketh lands lightly on the ground and furls his wings.

 

C'oot props himself against the table, leaning -hovering- over Annie with a sly look in his weathered features.  "And what is it that has our fine young Weyrwoman out of sorts?"  That wicked gleam enters his dark brown gaze as he leans further attendance on her.  "Anything an old fellow might do to.. eh.. loosen ya up?"  He waggles bushy brows with no small hint.

 

K'no has arrived.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith lurks by the entrance to the living cavern like the twin of a sentinel with his brother misplaced. Faint sounds of breathing - perhaps the tic of of muscle, jumping - are all that reassures that he's still alive. Just silent, observing.

 

Sk'lar is now quite finished with messenger duty for the day, thank you. One more run and you might just watch the teenager cry. "Still fighting over me," he murmurs enough to actually be understood as his head lolls to the side. His weyr for a drudge to walk by and offering him a drink, preferably of the alcoholic variety.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath sleeps on, though restlessness now marks her slumber. She moves, then stills, then repeats the process. Even in eveningtime's dimming light, she somehow managed to look brilliant.

 

Tarlin returns from the kitchens, burdened with a hearty helping of fresh fruit and meat strips, and a drudge carrying a pitcher of juice behind her, which she sends on a round of the living caverns and the waiting bronzeriders.  One bronzerider in particular catches her eye and, with lips compressed, she approaches Sk'lar.  "Need anything to drink?  Eat?"

 

Annie glowers at C'oot as if she might dis/member/ him at any moment. "No. Go away, you filthy old man." Insulting, isn't she? "Can't I eat a sharding meal in peace?" She stabs a chunk of tuber-salad with a vengeance, rattling her plate.

 

K'no whistles a dinky little harper tune while he walks into the caverns, tromp tromp tromp.  Who'se looking for a good time?  K'no's looking for a good time!  And the wine tables /always/ have good times.  Like this particular Vintage.  K'no strolls over to the table and picks up one of the wine skins and opens it up.  "Feelin' lucky today," he murmers as he fills up a glass with the red liquid.  "Red?  Shards," K'no grunts.  He's not a fan, but he's still thirsty for a drink.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth curls his neck to the side, lowering it enough so that his forepaw can rub just above the eyeknob, at a most particularly stubborn itchy spot. *itchitchitch* Bronze croons a slow note deep in his throat at the attention. Ohhhhhh, that was good.

 

C'oot is hardly deterred by the glower, scooting closer to the annoyed goldrider with a flash of teeth that /would/ be even if he still had them all.  "Not until that pretty of yours flies, m'dear," he replies with a chortle of glee.  Someone's feeling his oats.

 

Eir clings to her klah mug with with all ten fingers, inhaling klah-steam with an indulgent sigh before actually drinking it. It /smells/ good, at any rate. It proves to taste good as well, for she sips and continues to do so. The conversation starts to float to her ears, and a brief flash of panic ripples over her face before it's smoothed over again. She's cool.

 

Ri nods, yea Annie wnated him gone, but Ri wanted him punished and for once, greenrider won over gold. Luckily Annie was still thinking almost clearly enough to understand the importance of backing up the new Wingleader. But now there is a question of the returned knot.. Sigh.. and back to her hides, just as the drudge appears with her mashed tuber and wherry with cheese dinner.. Don't forget the fish sauce.. Ahh, manna!

 

Sk'lar would melt into the floor now at the sight of Tarlin. A sigh somehow manages to cause his shoulders to slump further, but there is actually activity and interest in his eyes, "Just a little something-something to drink... but whatever you do, don't get too close. I've been told in the middle of the last messengering run that I have the distinct odor of a moldering herdbeast."

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath awakens suddenly, eyes unlidding like a shot. Hide resplendant, she stretches in a leisurely sort of way, massive wings spreading in all their golden glory. She glances around, sighting those near her -- those males especially -- she takes to the sky, aiming her hungry self for the feeding grounds.

 

Tarlin wrinkles her nose as the scent reaches her, then grins at her weyrmate.  "Anything for you, love, you know that."  She winks, and then charges off on a mission to find the pot of juice she'd sent roundabout.

 

"She's /not/ going to fly!" Annie stands, slamming her wineglass to the table, ignoring the shattering of glass as the stem splinters. "So get it out of your dirty old mind!" C'oot sure knows how to piss off his Weyrwoman, eh? And she continues to stand there, broken wineglass in hand, eyes now gazing out toward the bowl. Now, where is Serath going? Damn that gold dragon, always had a mind of her own.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath launches powerfully into the air!

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith suddenly stirs with poised fluidity, only a few joints popping from disuse, as Serath's wings open. Pinions unfurl the antithesis of that golden expanse, muggy urban night stretching smoke-black.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith launches powerfully into the air!

 

K'no swirls his glass around a few times, watching a little whirl pool form in the glass.  he lifts the glass to his lips and takes a long drink from it.  "Mmmm... Not too bad."  The rider walks away from the table and manuvers over to another one and sits on the bench.  "Doo...  Oooh?"  K'no looks about the caverns, eye-spying gold, green and bronze.  And Tarlin!  But he's busy with his wine.  Gulp.

 

Sk'lar pushes up from where he sits, following Tarlin's progress with an almost giddy attentiveness. Sappy, isn't it? Considering that she is about to get him something to drink, he would fall to his feet before her. Bronzer twitches at all the yelling coming from Annie's voice. She always seems to be yelling. He flickers her a weary glance. "Oh, for the love of little green... Don't you ever shut up." Patience is gone.. and I suppose that talking-to by Ri earlier didn't exactly sink in.

 

(Kahlendroth) Feeding Pens

(Kahlendroth) The cupric tang of life's energy hangs heavy in the air and whirls with a nauseous glee across the wide expanse of feeding ground that takes up half of the southern end of the bowl. The startled cries of herdbeast and wherry alike are quickly muffled by the rapid descent of dragon bulk, soon to be silenced forever, leaving behind a mottled pool of blood, the only testimony that they ever existed. A twisted barrier of wood surrounds the outer perimeter, keeping the beasts within the corral and, conveniently enough, providing a perch for both human and 'lizard.

(Kahlendroth) The sky is clear and bright without a cloud to be seen.  Belior is a new moon and Timor is slightly more than three-quarters dark.  It is a fall night.

(Kahlendroth) You see Baby here.

(Kahlendroth) The following dragons are here: Serath and Aidubaith

(Kahlendroth) From here you can go:

(Kahlendroth) Bowl                      Up                         Watering Hole            

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath has landed, and surveys the herds. She sights a choice buck (and knowing he's been sighted, said choice buck /runs/), and takes flight again, to end his little life.

 

Ri says, "Sk'lar." Not a yell, just a sharp bark. "You want to stay in the Skimmers, you will live by my two rules. If you can't do that. You may be totally dismissed." She's not angry, she's just making a point. "It's your call."

 

Tarlin stares at Annie after the Weyrwoman's outburst, then with a shake of her head, rescues the pot of fruit juice from certain drainage.  A glass plucked from the serving boards on her way past, she pours a glass for her poor beleaguered bronzerider and profers it to him... from a distance.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth seems to have found interest in seeing just what that suddenly wakeful Serath is up to, either that or he knows exactly what's going on with the dayglow goldie. Sailing in on arching sails, he swoops low enough so that the dried grasses in the pens tickle his tummy, sent to swaying and undulating in his wake.

 

Shadows, shadows... Eir is faintly distressed, unable to find a spot dark enough, or secluded enough. Deciding, then, to whistle in the dark (no pun intended) she plunks herself down at a remotely-populated table - foresightedly, however, not between the goldrider and the other riders. K'no's glass of wine is eyed wistfully, for it's mental anaesthesia.

 

C'oot smirks, his dirty old mind already picturing what Annie looks like under her clothing as he gives her one of those clearly undressing looks.  At Sk'lar's retort, the elderly brownrider straightens and regards the younger man with a glower.  "Now you listen here, whipper snapper!  You treat your leaders with more respect!" he whistles.

 

K'no's glass of wine is like a spitdrop in a lake.  It takes more than that to get him amnesia.  Or something.  "Woo, Sk'lar, better watch your tongue boy.  The wrath of a greenrider is not something to be suffered.  Especially when she's pregnant."  The man guestures to Ri with his wine glass, then he takes another sip of it.

 

Annie seems about to toss more abuses at C'oot and his gutter-mind, but Sk'lar draws her attention. "You're-- you're /grounded/ to your /weyr/," she growls at the bronzerider, stalking toward him, broken wineglass still in hand. "As of now. Go awa--" But she breaks off, feeling the moment when Serath seizes the buck in deadly talons. "Oh. Oh /no/ you do-- just blood-- oh, /bloody/ /eggshards/." And with that odd curse, she storms out of the cavern, pretty pink muumuu billowing behind her.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith backwings with a great eddies of wind, rearing up as he drops to the ground. It spooks the herdbeasts, true, but the effect /is/ (hopefully) impressive. However, a few more calories of energy must be expended to chase down one, but the sacrifice hits the ground quickly, its desparing moan choked off with surgical precision.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth regards the young 'buck' of a bronze with a rumble of warning, severing the head of his recent meal from the neck with a neat snap of his jaws.  He drops the spent carcass and lashes out at the nearest beast, an aged female too tired to skitter away with the rest of the herd.  With a slash of claws and a spurt of blood, the beast's lifeforce spills to the ground and she collapses with nary a bleat in protest.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath has caught that juicy buck, and the welling of hunger within her causes her to rip its throat with a certain sadistic glee. She looks up for a moment, contact made with her rider, blood dripping from her muzzle, and frustration is bellowed. /Blood/? Only /blood/? Oh, she knows the drill, but she'll complain nonetheless. Hot, sticky herdbeast blood is sucked by the plump queen/

Eir closes her eyes and takes a few cards from Aidubaith's deck in stolid meditation. She is rock, she is dark, she is... getting up from her chair, under no power of her own, feet dragging after the muumuu'd one as if by invisible tether.

 

Annie treads toward Infirmary.

 

Sk'lar winces as, once more, his mouth gets away from him. He expects the grumbling directed at him, and answers all of it with a depreciating smile. YeahYeahYeah. He bobs his head in understanding. What's a little more punishment? He flickers another glance to Tarlin, smile wane. "Thank you." Forgive him, puh-lease. As Annie storms out, his smirk deepens. Glace is back to Tarlin, "You know what... somehow it is just poetic justice that Serath would be proddy right about now, and Kahlen is there."

 

Eir walks toward Infirmary.

 

K'no waves byebye to the three riders.  "Makes me glad Chesketh's out like a glowbasket."  K'no's got this whole flight pattern thing down.  Tire the mess out of the dragon in the morning during drills and they'll sleep right through the rest of the day.  K'no laughs evilly and finishes off his wine.  "Woo!"  The man puts the glass down on the table and looks around.  "So Ri, why're his pants all up in a bunch?"  K'no leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

 

Tarlin sighs, her own gaze trailing after the departing goldrider.  "I.. suppose you should follow," she suggests, offering to take the glass of juice from him.  She smiles.  "Poetic justice would be if Kahlen actually won."

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth drives hindlegs into the earth, paws impacting hard as he shoves against the ground. Bronze is propelled forth, looking much like a pouncing feline -only much bigger, bronze, with wings, and other assorted differences- and he shoves towards a mottled herdbeast. Shoulder drives into the creature, instantly breaking its back, and leaving it for the dragon's newest meal.

 

Ri says, "I have no clue. I don't try and understand Sk'lar at all." Of course the fact that he's back to wearing a simple rider's knot may have something to do with it? Or the messengering all day? Smirk "Too bad Kahlen's so tired, eh Sk'."

 

(Kahlendroth) A number of bronzes and a few brows amass at the feeding grounds, most eyes intent upon the bloody-muzzled gold. An extra tension is there, for the winner will lead Telgar Weyr.

 

K'no eyes Tarlin.  "That's not poetic justice.  That's evil.  This is gonna be a weyrleader flight thingy, right?  That's worse than him being wingsecond.  That's down-right cruelty."  K'no rolls his eyes and looks back to Ri.  "Me neither.  I stopped trying to understand people during my Turns in Igen.  That kind of stuff will make your brains turn to ash."  K'no grins and thumps the edge of his glass.  Ding!

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith drags one claw down the beast's neck, tracing the line of the still-pulsing artery before the heart relaxes completely. One paw presses on its shoulder, supplementing arerial pressure as he laps at the gory mess. Oblivious of power-struggles and politics, the brown knows only the metallic taste in his mouth and the slow-burning need to chase, fly, win.

 

Sk'lar reaches a hand up to rub at his forehead, as if somehow that will manage to put the jumble inside to rest. He downs the last of the juice in one quick gulp before handing the glass back to Tarlin. As he pushes up to stand, he inflicts his smelly self upon his weyrmate with a quick kiss to her cheek. "That woman has it in for me. I'll be back." *Get the Arnold voice out of your head!* He flashes a glance to Ri, "Well, apparently he isn't tired enough..." And with that, he heads out as well.

             

Guest Ground Weyr

Large cavern built to house visiting dragons and riders from other Weyrs. There is a small nook housing cots and other items for the human riders to use. The only real splash of color in this barren cavern is the murals on the walls. Scenes depicting hatchings, weyrlings flights, wings training, and mating flights.

Perched somewhere up high, you see Sanctus.

Annie and Eir are here.

From here you can go:

Out                                                                           

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth slurps noisily at the crimson fountain slowly dying with the herdbeast's passing.  He licks his maw with a hunger attributed as much to lust as the rumbling of his stomach as a new life he hasn't felt in turns surges through his veins.  He might not be a close winner, but he'll definitely give his opponents a run for their money.

 

Eir wrinkles her brow with the mental effort of trying to keep Aid grounded, teeth bared in a ferocious grin. "And you'd better not /win/. I don't want to lead a weyr," she grunts through a clenched jaw, backing up from the gathering throng until she runs out of floor and finds the wall by way of her rear end.

 

(Fallon) Tarlin sighs after Sk'lar, shaking her head as she takes the glass and begins a slow circuit across the cavern.  Ri and K'no receive a wicked grin.  "Kahlen too tired to chase?  You've got to be joking," she retorts.

 

"Shod off," Annie hisses at C'oot. "You're too old to be Weyrleader. No one would take your seriously. You're just a senile old rider, /decades/ past his prime." Her green-eyed gaze zips about the ground weyr as she back toward a corner, finding safety with at least two walls around her. Eyes fall upon Eir. A woman? Less intimidating. C'oot? Too old. Sk'lar? As her eyes fall upon him, she actually laughs in disbelief. Eyes travel onward, trying to Guess-the-Winner.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath has blooded one, and another falls to her fatal talons. It, too, is sucked almost completely dry. Two are enough -- and her beloved rider holds her back -- and then, with a challenging roar, the golden dragon shoves her bulk from the ground, wings spreading to carry her up, up, up.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath launches powerfully into the air, scattering the various groups of herdbeast into a tizzy.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith launches powerfully into the air, scattering the various groups of herdbeast into a tizzy.

 

Sk'lar smirks as the moment he enters into the ground weyr, he is laughed at. Awwww jeeze. "Thank you," he murmurs, rolling his eyes as he settles back against the wall. Its a place he finds himself very often, considering the fact that Kahlen seems to feel the need to fly everything but bloated wherries.

 

(Kahlendroth) Sky Above the Feeding Grounds

(Kahlendroth) Across the wide expanse of feeding ground the low thrum of hoofbeats, the hungered rumble of dragons, and the soured tang of spillt blood combines into a chilling symphony that assaults your senses, drawing your attention to the harried carnage below.  The occasional breeze that blows by provides little help in dispelling the stifling smell of the hunt.

(Kahlendroth) The sky is clear and bright without a cloud to be seen.  Belior is a new moon and Timor is slightly more than three-quarters dark.  It is a fall night.

(Kahlendroth) Flittering around is Repugno.

(Kahlendroth) The following dragons are here: Fyseith, Hotcroth, Serath, and Aidubaith

(Kahlendroth) From here you can go:

(Kahlendroth) Training Grounds          Lake                       Down                     

(Kahlendroth) Up                        Eastern Curve              Central Bowl             

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith launches into the sky with a pump of mighty wings, exhilerated by the hunt - even if there won't be any blooding at the end. The stony facade melts away visibly with every dragonlength he gets from the ground, a fierce grin of predatory ecstasy on his face. Tongue doesn't loll yet, but it threatens to; instead, a thunderous growl rips from his throat to echo faintly across the bowl.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth was just lapping up the last of the spilt blood from the rent carcass of the 'beast, allowing the life-bringing liquid to trickle down his throat and revitalize, when she lifts to the air. Dulled and dirtied bronze lifts darkened wings to cloak his figure just a breath before he is pushing into the skies. One wingbeat after another denies gravity its hold as he stretches after.

 

C'oot shoots his own dark look at the bronzerider, sizing up the competition with hardly veiled disdain.  He sidles up to Annie, that dirty old man look in his eyes.  "Looks like your lass has quite a choice to make, eh?  Why don'tcha make it for her, missy?"  He waggles those bushy brows again and puckers up his dry, furrowed lips, waiting for the kiss or the blow to fall.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath flies, flees, massive wings pumping to propell her considerable bulk upward, arrowing for Pern's twin moons -- the moonlight glitters against a brilliant hide, pale and silvery. A coy challenge is again roared, and she pushes upward, lit with the strength of hot, fresh blood.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth puddle jumps his way into the skies with a put-put-puttering of his wrinkled wings and the sound of crinkled paper in his wake.  Once airborne, instinct takes over, and the old beast pumps fast and hard, the beat of excitement in his veins giving him the strength to continue.

 

Sk'lar rocks his head back against the stone, his gaze falling upon Eir and her knot. Igen? There always seems to be one in every flight, even if it is a leadership.... Ohhhh, fardles. Panicked glance is cast back to Annie and then to the others present. Does he /really/ want to be here?

 

It's the blow for you, sorry to say it, C'oot. Annie pulls back and gives the old man a firm slap across the cheek. "Go away!" she shouts. Then, in a lower voice, she adds, "I never make the choices for her. She's always made her own." The Weyrwoman seems a bit distant as she speaks, for much of her is off with Serath, racing through Pern's skies, taunting, teasing.

 

Eir isn't a woman; she's a girl. And, between the roiling chaos of Aidubaith's thoughts, traitorous ideas of her own bubble to the surface. It C'oot won, /she/ wouldn't have to deal with him. As it is, she scoots along the wall toward the exit, just in case.

 

Tss'a hugs Sk'lar! Sk'lar pounces you to the ground, wraps you up in a big huggle, and declares that you are 'bout the bestest best hugger in the world. Awwww, he doesn't say that to everyone. Don't you feel special?

 

C'oot fingers the spreading bruise across his tender cheek like a badge of love, unguarded lust leaping into his eyes.  "Ah, missy.  I ain't never had anyone hit me like that before."  His voice almost pleads for her to do it again as he sidles close again.  He ventures a hand towards her waist.

 

Annie edges away from C'oot, slapping his hand as it comes anywhere /near/ her skinny self. "Go /away/," she hisses, continuing to edge along the wall. Her edging causes her to run into a grinning bronzerider, who attempts to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She socks him one to the gut and edges back to her corner. To fly with Serath.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth climbs into the air, upon the fringes of the drooling mob of chasing dragonflesh. Sails scoop and plunge, forcing the air away to ascend after Serath with desire's intent. Nostrils flare as the gold above tries to reach the vault of the sky, merging with the lunar beauty, only to be eclipsed by.... creaking darkness? Youthful bronze folds a wing as the bulk of Geezerth darkens before him, yawing to the side.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith swoops after Serath like trailing dogfighter, wings extended to catch every thermal to use to his advantage. Urgency spurs him onward, somewhere deep in his brain the knowledge that his endurance won't hold up again Kahlendroth's. Another pump of wings, and he surges forward, attempting to pull ahead of the pack.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth flicks his tail in warning at the young bronze, a subtle hint that the geriatric brown might become incontinent at any moment.  The spade snapped in Kahlendroth's face, the brown surges forward with a sweep of wings growing heavier by the moment, pride awakening in his brittle bones to drive him onward.

 

Sk'lar winces at the sound of the slapping going one. Such violence. If he makes it out of this with nothing more than a black eye, to go with the big bruise on his shin from Annie the day before, he will count himself lucky. Annie's wall-edging gets a frown, a heavy frown. Just stay in the corner, will ya?!

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath snakes her head back to admire the sight of so many dragons enamored of /her/, but enjoying the scenery only allows a coppery-hued bronze to draw too close. She hisses, pushing herself forward, out of reach, beyond their capabilities, beyond their wildest imaginings. She crows to the twin moons, then dips, losing altitude rapidly before pushing up again.

 

Annie can have the corner. Annie can have all of Telgar Weyr, as far as Eir is concerned. The brownrider vacillates between huddling and running, Aidubaith's consciousness(es) submerging hers in surrealistic flashes.

 

C'oot lets Annie alone, though not through choice as he's drawn into the chase, mind and body.  His legs give out beneath him and he sinks to the floor, sliding along the wall, babbling nonsense and cackling every now and then.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth snaps at the brown's taunting tail, maw opening and shutting on nothing but air.  Bronze slips to the side as a wayward thermal slips over the wall of the weyr, tickling under his wings as he wrestles it to his will. The pirate of the skies spies an opening in the pack -be it there or not. Shouldering himself forward, hindleg strikes out against another bronze's shoulder, shoving the older bronze to the side with vicious negligence and not looking back.

 

Annie hovers in her corner. Sk'lar is smart not to approach her-- too many leave her flights not only disappointed, but bruised and bleeding. Her bony arms wrap tight about her, causing the pastel pink tent of a dress to bunch up about her stickish form. Coppery locks fall into her face, dampened by sweat. Eyes are distant. She is with Serath, for the most part, though occasional cautious glances around warn anyone against trying anything stupid.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith can feel the fatigue starting to build in his muscles, the effortless flapping of wings now becoming drudgery as they grow more and more leaden. He may not be able to chase her down, no, but lust-crazed eyes are hyperalert for any tricky tactics which his slipping position might give him advantage in.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth bugles fury as the shoved bronze is thrust into his path, spoiling his flight.  He just manages to keep from tearing a sail or breaking a fragile bone, but at the cost of his position in the pack.  With disappointment, he watches the gold growing ever smaller in the distance.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath has a disadvantage: it is her overabundance of flesh. Unlike most dragons, she forever seems to be a bit too pudgy, and bit overweight. And this disadvantage manifests itself as she slows just /slightly/, crowing and taunting ceasing for now; she cannot carry her great bulk so far and so fast for long. But she has the advantage, and soars onward.

 

(Kahlendroth) ...But she /still/ has the advantage... *ahem*

 

Sk'lar reaches a hand up to rake fingers through his hair, darkened locks sweat-dampened on the edges. His eyes drift shut, the boy wincing as his lifemate ruthlessly shoves aside the others, which seems to be more and more prevalent in the bronze's flights. He licks parched lips, before finally looking back to Annie.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith knows physics, at least rudimentally; dragons which go up must come down, at some point. Rather than chase upwards, fighting harder against gravity, he cuts under the pack, trying to estimate when Serath will drop. Wingstrokes slow as he tests out the bowl's thermals, undulating through the currents.

 

C'oot cries out in dismay as he feels his lifemate falter.  He glowers across the room at Sk'lar--the upstart bronzerider--and works his way to his feet with a creaking of ancient sinew and bone.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth drops back, feeling the strain as pain shoots through rarely worked muscles.  He bugles again, his disappointment resonating across the bowl, and drops towards the ground, giving in to the pressures of age and gravity.

 

Eir doesn't have any locks to brush out of her eyes, so sweat has nothing to do but bead on her flushed forhead and run over eyebrows into her eyes. No fists come up to knuckle the drops out of her eyes, however - she /is/ Aidubaith, shoulders twitching faintly with the beats of his wings, arms and legs held at her sides as she streams through the air.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth croons not a sound as he slices his way through the pack, leaving only his whip-cord tail to lash in their faces at his wake. Dirt and midnight darkened bronze folds in his portside pinion, fingersail crumpling in on itself as he shoves to the side. Spars extend once more, snapping sails filling with the air and wind of his passage. A flurry of wingbeats brings him above the pack, exhausting and built upon the energy of desire.

 

(Fallon) At that remark, Arte seems to pop out of her funk - "Huh? The other night? Oh, yeah.." Staring over at Tarlin, she blinks and yawns again. "Oh, really? I hadn't heard." Shows you have incrediably awake she's been the past few days, huh? "Oh, and I was doing -stuff-," is said rather quietly and a sly smile is flashed in the brown-rider's direction.

 

Annie's jaw clenches as she feels Serath falter -- the indicator that soon, soon they will both have to succomb to the dictates of draconic instinct. Murky eyes dart from one intense visage to another, attempting to figure it out, attempting to discern the winner, but the rapture of the shared emotion of flight impedes critical thought. Fists clench.

 

"Stuff, suuuuuuure.  When's the party, Tarlin?"  K'no changes the topic from Arte's nightlife to Tarlin's dayjob.  "I hadn't heard we were having one.  Who'se it for?"

 

Sk'lar stares blandly right on back at C'oot. What? Its a flight, get over it. Smug glance to the elder -much elder- slowly transfers back over to Annie. His gaze rakes over her skinny form for but a second, before he is back with his own lifemate, drawn into the chase. More murmurings from him, some not exactly best heard by innocent ears.

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath's bulk pulls her down, succombing to the forces of this thing called gravity. Fighting it as best she can, she wings onward, but a mere two bucks blooded were not enough to keep her aloft for long. She gives another, ear-splitting bugle of triumph, for -- despite being caught by the 'winner' -- she remains the /true/ champion, the true Queen.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith turns on a wingtip as Serath begins to drop, his final burst of speed put into meeting the Rubenesque queen as she descends. If he actually catches her, keeping the two of them in the air might be more than his flagging strength can handle, but Serath's proximity erases anything but the urge to mate from his mind.

 

(Kahlendroth) Geezerth wails disconsolately and wanders off to be by himself.  He should've known better, but he had to try.

 

Eir wobbles from the dizzy tilting that Aidubaith executes in the air, the wall seeming to loom up behind her as the floor sweeps up to meet here. She manages to stay on her feet, however, the cold revulsion of C'oot sobering her up as Geezerth drops out of the running.

 

C'oot shoots one last scathing look at Sk'lar before his expression turns stricken and he wanders on out of the weyr.  /Both/ of them should've known better than to try, but they had to try.

 

Annie winces as she feels Serath slowing, as she feels the inevitable ending approaching. Letting all thoughts slips away, she tries to prepare herself for the moment -- her fists tighten, back stiffens -- that she knows is upon her. Whoever the new Weyrleader will be, you will likely recognize him by his limp.

 

(Kahlendroth) Kahlendroth arches upon a night-borne thermal, cresting where celestial-bodies cast their sylvan glimmer upon the broad of his back, lending their brief glow to his muted metalics.. while below, the dark, murky shadows of depthless night posses his underside. A moment held in chance as the gamble is made. He plummets, stoops, lets the pull of gravity and the draw of beguiling gold have its claim on him. The only heralding to his presence is the onrush of air, and he is there. Another suitor is slashed to the bone with a trio of rending talons but moments before bronze reaches to capture and plunder her for his very own.

 

"Ohhhhh, fard-" And the rest of the curse is cut off as Sk'lar shivers at the draconic contact. He doesn't even have a moment to give voice to the rest of the nasty oaths and expletives at what just happened in the air. "Mine!" he growls, moments before reaching for Annie, curling fingers in the cloth of her pink whatever it is.

 

Free at last! Eir sworls briefly with Aidubaith's depression, but soon she's off the ground and on her feet, heading for the door and planning to avoid any of the losers... well, groping for consolation.

 

That's a muumuu to /you/, mister. Annie blanches as the realization hits-- /Sk'lar/? The teenager? With the ego? The woman's fury is evident as red flushes her cheeks and she lashes out, first flying for the bronzerider's jaw. But, as impact is made, Serath forces her to surrender -- and the woman simply... gives up. (For now anyhow. Wait till the morning.)

 

(Kahlendroth) Serath entwines, falls, tail twisted with the handsome, wily young bronze. Her choice is made, of course, and the fate of the Weyr is now decided. The two fall, plummeting toward the floor of the bowl, creating quite the spectacle in silvered moonlight.

 

(Kahlendroth) Aidubaith swoops down towards the scattering herds in the feeding pen.

 

Sk'lar jerks at the impact. Owwww. That is gonna hurt in the morning, among other things. Ah, this will be one 'fun' experience...

 

Message 68 of 68 on *TelgarWeyr (#280):

Date:     Wed Jun 19 23:11:48 2002 CDT

From:     Annie (#9180)

To:       *Announcements (#697) and *TelgarWeyr (#280)

Subject:  A New Weyrleader at Telgar!

 

Annie's golden Serath took to the skies, and soon the bronzes and a few ambitious browns were giving chase. Old bronze Geezerth tried his best, but a determined Kahlendroth made sure the aged dragon did not last long. Intelligent brown Aidubaith attempted to calculate his way into winning, but in the end, Sk'lar's strong, young Kahlendroth caught the zaftig queen.

 

...And as Sk'lar caught Annie, she awarded him with a fist to the face. It is safe to say that while Serath and Kahlendroth seem quite pleased with the flight, Sk'lar remains sore, and Annie remains livid: no egotistical teenager is going to run /her/ Weyr, if she has anything to do with it!

 

** Welcome Sk'lar as Telgar Weyr's new Weyrleader! **

 

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as if their cold world of numbers and ledgers

 was more important than fantasy and vision!

                    ~*~

               Annie & Serath               

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