4/7/2003

11:25 PM

Logfile from Sk'lar.

 

Boarder House

 ____                             (

 LLLL\                             )

 LLLLL\                          (__

 LLLLLL\                         |="|

 """""|"_________________________|= |_____

      |LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL\

      |LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL\

      |LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL\

      ||"|"[|]"|""||""""""""""||"|"[|]"|"||""

      || | [|] |  ||  |~~~~|  || | [|] | ||

      || |_[|]_|  ||  | [] |  || |_[|]_| ||

      ||__________||  |   o|  ||_________||

      ||][][][][][||  | [] |  ||[][][][][||.'.

      ||[][][][][]||_-`----'-_||][][][][]||"."

     ^(.)(').( )' @/-- -- - --\@( )'( ).(( )^(.)^

    ^(`)'.(').( )@/-- -- - -- -\@ (.)'(.),( ).(').

   .'." ." '.". @/- - --- -- - -\@ '.".'.".'.".'."

   jgs'.".".'.'@/ - -- -- -- -- -\@".'..'".'."'.'.'

The main common room for the farm's workers.  Tables are arranged though this room, some with food and others with games and such.  By the split room to the south, it seems this place is also used for the dining area.  A large fire place is set into the wall by the main door.

The harvest season blows cooler air through the house, forcing the residents to light the hearth-fire at night and keep extra blankets as wards against the onrushing winter. The winds rattle against the window-frames as if trying to force their way inside.

Tarlin is here.

From here you can go:

Out                       Females' Quarters                                   

Males' Quarters           Dining Hall                                         

 

It's a full house tonight!  And Tarlin's right in the middle of it.  "Come on sevens!  Come on sevens!" she crows as she rattles what can only be a pair of dice in her hands.  She holds her cupped hands open slightly for the young lad next to her to blow on them, then sends them a-flying... and... "Waaaahoo!  I'm on a roll tonight, boys!"

 

Well, at least he made it this far without any ruckus being made. This is good. He quietly enters into the house, gaze sweeping the area. As a youngling passes by, Sky is reaching to enclose his fingers about his shirt to collar the lad, and make a query. A point is issued to Tarlin's table and Sky is releasing him. He trods over in that direction, smirking.

 

Tarlin spies Sk'lar out the corner of her eyes and her expression hardens, ever-so-slightly.  For someone who didn't know her, it would go unnoticed.  By a couple of the fellows at her table, it is noted, and they look up and scowl at the entering Weyrleader.  Tarlin ignores them /and/ him, draping an arm, instead, about the shoulders of the lad beside her.  "Hmm.  Why don't you throw one for me, cutie?"  She drops the dice into his hand.

 

Sk'lar's eyes immediately narrow at the sight of the arm draping. Scowl. Growl. Smirk. Die. He draws right on up to the table, only to nudge (albeit none to lightly) someone to the side. "Move." Bench is straddled as he glares across to Tarlin and then shoots a challenging glance over to the one next to her. "I'll play."

 

The game pauses as all eyes turn either towards Sk'lar, Tarlin, or anywhere but.  You could cut the sudden tension with a knife as the young woman eyes her /former/ weyrmate with a casual dislike.  Finally, she quirks a brow and grins.  "Sure.  If you don't mind losing a few marks."

 

"I don't mind loosing marks, but that isn't what I want to wager over." Nope. Sky has something else on his mind. "I've got my eye on bigger game, about your size and with your attitude. Lets bet on you, Tarlin."

Tarlin quirks a brow at the Weyrleader, though her expression flashes with a touch of anger.  "Me, hmm?  And what would you do with me when you got.. /me/?"  One fellow, clearing his throat, excuses himself from the table and leaves.

 

Sk'lar reaches over to retrieve the dice, slipping them into a cup. Always was good at dice. His best game, and Tarlin should probably remember this one well. Instead of stupid darts. Cup rattles as he speaks, "Take you back where you belong. Telgar. And you'll keep your arse there too."

 

Tarlin scowls, folding her arms as she watches him put the dice into a cup.  "I'll keep my arse where I please, thank you very much."  Still, she seems to give consideration to the bet.  "And if /I/ win?"

 

"If you win, I'll leave you be. Simple as that. You can have your farming." And slumming. Sky doesn't say it, but the look to his eyes certainly gives note to the train of his thoughts. "Game?"

 

Tarlin looks at the fellows around the table, including the couple of women sparsely interspersed in the crowd.  Most look away, some shake their heads.  The ones that matter though, simply shrug.  It's up to her, apparently.  So, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, she accepts the challenge, "You're on."

 

Sk'lar is looking rather smug, and it is plain by the wry turn to his lips. Cup is rattling once more as he simply watches her, shrugs his shoulders and lets the dice tumble. Seeing as Sky's player knows absolutely nothing about dice, what rolls and tumbles across the table turns up to show something fairly good, but still beatable. He scoops them upon once more, drops them in the cup, and then offers it to Tarlin.

 

Tarlin eyes the roll, her gaze narrowing in annoyance.  Erasing the expression from her face, she accepts the cup, tosses the dice out into her hand and then begins to roll them in her hand.  She eyes the gentlemen to either side of her, then turns to the larger of the two with an impish smile.  She holds her hand out towards him with a bit of a pout to her lips.  He takes her hand in his and brings it up to brush the dice with his lips.  Thus, her cheeks flushed, Tarlin tosses the dice.  It's a tie roll.

 

And that is all it takes for his trigger to get tripped. Sky climbs to his feet, and then quite literally climbs over the table, kicking aside the dice and whatever number they landed upon, his intent is clear as he sights upon Tarlin. Uh oh.

 

Tarlin laughs softly, fire dancing in her gaze as she taunts the Weyrleader.  "Ah, Weyrleader Sk'lar, you haven't won the game, yet."  She points at the dice, draping an arm across the fellow's shoulders as he starts to wonder what he's gotten himself into.  "Your turn to roll."

 

Sk'lar doesn't really care all that much about dice at this moment, considering he is currently seeing nothing but red at the moment. "Send the roll between for all that I care." He bounces down from the top of the table, staring at her, "You have three seconds to clear the area... by the end of the count, if you aren't gone, you'll be eating my fist." Yeah, he was talking to that man.

 

Tarlin releases the fellow and gestures for him to move even as she steps between him and Sk'lar.  Glowering, she lifts her own fists.  "I'm sorry, Sk'lar, but I think you gave up the right to fight over me a while ago."

 

Sk'lar doesn't seem to be hearing any of her words right now. Not a one. Fists are eyed for a moment, and if she punches him then good for her because he probably deserves it. "I'm not fighting over you. I'm taking you home. Where you belong." He lunges forward. Yes, folks -its the tried and true throw the woman over his shoulder technique.

 

Tarlin makes a pass at Sk'lar even as he lifts her up and over his shoulders.  She pounds on his back.  "Shard it!  Is this your answer for /everything/?  You wherry-headed dung-for-brains!"

 

And her pass is probably going to hit him. Yep. He grunts, but continues right on along with the course of action. "You don't belong here and you damn well know it, Tarlin." He adjusts her with a bounce, and then swings about only to glare at the people about. "If anyone wants to stop me, try it now." He starts for the door.

 

No one's about to stop him.  Though some are chagrined at the loss, most are simply amused, and almost everyone agrees with the Weyrleader.  Tarlin doesn't belong.  Tarlin, of course, does /not/ agree.  "Shard it, Sk'lar!  Put me down, this instant!  You can't.. you didn't win!"  She shrieks with frustration.

 

Sk'lar is ignoring all of Tarlin's rants at this moment, each and every one as he continues towards the doorway. "Sorry about the drama. You have my apologies." Another adjustment to the woman draped over his shoulder, this one purposeful in the jostling as he goes out the door.

                                 

Jowl's Gate

                      ()                     ()

                    !_II                     II_!

                 !_/I_||                     ||_I\_!

                /I_/| ||                     || |\_I\

       .--.   !//|  | ||                     || |  |\\!   .--.

      (-   ) /I/ |  | ||                     || |  | \I\ (=   )

       \__/!//|  |  | ||                     || |  |  |\\!\__/

       /  \I/ |JOWLS| ||                     || |FARM | \I/  \

      {_ __}  |  |  | ||                     || |  |  |  {____}

   _!__|= ||  |  |  | ||                     || |  |  |  ||  |__!_

   _I__|  ||__|__|__|_||     ':.      .      ||_|__|__|__||- |__I_

   -|--|- ||--|--|--|-||       []_____ :.    ||-|--|--|--||= |--|-

    |  |  ||  |  |  | ||  ____/\      \_[]   || |  |  |  ||  |  |

    |  |= ||  |  |  | ||-/\___\ \__/\__\__\--|| |  |  |  ||= |  |

    |  |- ||  |  |  | || ||'''| |''||''|''|  || |  |  |  ||= |  |

    |  |- ||  |  |  | || ``"""`"`""))""`""`  || |  |  |  ||- |  |

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    jgs|- ||  |  |  | ||:::::::::::::::::::::|| |  |  |  ||= |  |

  ~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~

A large gate attached to a fence that extends beyond the hill.  In the distance you see a building.

Color is everywhere as the exodus of summer and the advent of winter bedecks the trees with bright splashes of golden-browns, deep reds, pumpkin oranges, and summery yellow-greens. Reflecting the gradually shedding trees above, the ground is cloaked by the same fiery colors, dead leaves smothering the grass and crunching underfoot. While cool winds blow, the farm is kept busy with gathering in the year's harvest before frost sets in.

The air is crisp with the coolness of pending winter.  With the summer's heat gone and Rukbat's rays no longer shining down so intensely, Pern herself seems to be in quiet repose.   It is a fall evening.

You see Thunder, Kreeth, and Mortis here.

The following dragons are here: Kahlendroth

From here you can go:

Cave                      Boarder House              Fields                   

Farm House                Farmers Road                                

 

Tarlin doesn't give up her kicking, pounding, or screaming, though deep down inside, some demented part of her is actually enjoying this.  She swears, curses, and just generally makes enough noise to scare off all the wildlife from the area surrounding the farm.

 

Kahlendroth is waiting just without, crouched a ready for this late-night kidnapping. The dragon does warble a greeting to Tarlin. Sky is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but it is more than worth it. He hikes up to the dragon, bends forward so that she slips from his shoulder. Manhandling her still, he turns her about, presses the woman hard against the dragon, an apologetic smile appears, and then he simply kisses her -or at least tries to.

 

Tarlin stops struggling and stares at the Weyrleader, stunned.  It doesn't last long, however, suspicion creeping in to turn the stunned expression to one of annoyance.  She folds her arms across her chest and refuses to cooperate.

 

But she was stunned! And that is the whole point of it. In Tarlin's moment of inaction, he pulls away, grips her hard, and fairly tosses her up upon Kahlen's neck. A moment later and he is clambering up himself. Not wasting time with straps, "Better hang on," is all the warning she gets, Kahlen launches into the sky.

 

 

No straps???  Tarlin is forced to cling to Sk'lar.

And cling she does, wrapping her arms about his waist and holding tight.

 

Astride Kahlendroth, Sk'lar grins wryly. Well, at least Kahlen is being good about rising gently into the skies. He digs his fingers in around the strap before him, and he mutters, "Tighter..." And between they go.

 

Astride Kahlendroth, Tarlin is amazingly silent as they come out of between.  She's never been so scared s.. so scared, nor so exhilarated, in her life.  Her arms, locked around Sk'lar's waist as they are, might never move again, though.

 

Astride Kahlendroth, Sk'lar directs Kahlen towards the weyr, and the dragon eases his way towards the ledge. The bronze settles, and Sky murmurs. "We're home now. And you're still alive, Tarlin. You can let go now."

 

Astride Kahlendroth, Tarlin slowly lets go, staring at her surroundings.  When she realizes where they have landed, she frowns, disbelieving.  "I thought you were just taking me back to the Weyr," she says softly.

 

Kahlendroth's Ledge

A steepled opening gapes just off kilter from the line of the ledge, shaped roughly like a broken mount whose silhouette would be best fit along the horizon of the High Reaches chain. Crescent-shaped ledge angles outward, tappering to a narrow point just to the north of the weyr's opening. With the entrance settled more to the southern curve of the ledge, more than ample room is available for the residing dragon's bulk and plenty of callers. A worn cascade of stone tumbles near the narrowed edge, whistling when the winds are their most fierce, but just the perfect proportions for a human's stony couch.

The following dragons are here: Kahlendroth

From here you can go:

InnerWeyr                                                                     

Sk'lar slides from Kahlendroth's tilted shoulder, bounces over the bulge of the dragon's foreleg, and then lands upon the ground with a *thump*.

 

Sk'lar slips off of Kahlen, peering over at her. "I am. Tomorrow. When I'm sure you aren't going to try to run away and make a fool of yourself. Tonight you can sleep in the bed. I'll stay with Kahlen."

 

Tarlin slides from Kahlendroth's tilted shoulder, bounces over the bulge of the dragon's foreleg, and then lands upon the ground with a *thump*.

 

Tarlin ohs, her frown deepening.  With a sigh, she, too, slips from Kahlendroth's side.  She pauses to rest a hand against the bronze's shoulder with a silent thanks, then turns to follow the bronzerider into the weyr.

 

Sk'lar continues inside, and is then shooting Tarlin another glance, this one dark. "I'll have a rider go back to the farm and pick up whatever is yours, and bring it back to the caverns." He sighs, "I want your word that you won't try something stupid and run off. I'm not going to forcibly keep you here, Tarlin, but... you know damn well that you belong here."

 

Tarlin glowers at the Weyrleader.  "I know no such thing," she replies sullenly, even as she takes in the room, everything exactly as it was when she'd left, minus a few of her personal effects.  She sighs and starts up the stairs towards the 'bedroom'.

 

Sk'lar remains down below, watching as she ascends the stairs. "Trust me on this one. You belong here." He draws back a pace, sitting upon the ledge of the couch with a grump, leaning back against the lounging Kahlendroth.

 

Tarlin brushes aside his comment with a wave of her hand before disappearing into the alcove above.  The sound of her flopping into the bed can be heard from below, then nothing more.