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! **
---------------------------------------------
as if
their cold world of numbers and ledgers
was more important than fantasy and vision!
~*~
Annie & Serath
---------------------------------------------