4/7/2003
11:25
PM
Logfile
from Sk'lar.
Boarder
House
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^(.)(').( )' @/-- -- - --\@( )'( ).((
)^(.)^
^(`)'.(').( )@/-- -- - -- -\@ (.)'(.),( ).(').
.'." ." '.". @/- - --- -- -
-\@ '.".'.".'.".'."
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
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~~~~~~~~~^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^~~~~~~~~~
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.