F'lick's weyr

You enter a warm, stone weyr. Almost as soon as you enter, a huge tan-and-white canine jumps on top of you, knocking you down. It starts licking your face, getting its sticky slobber all over you. You splutter and try to get it--he?--off of you.

"Potch! Here, boy!"

The canine stops licking your face and hops off, trotting merrily up to a young man of about sixteen Turns. He kneels down next to the dog and strokes his fur. The canine--Potch, did he call him?--wags his tail and looks up adoringly at the boy. He stands. "Sorry about ol' Potch here," he says in a mellow voice tinged in a Southern accent. "He's too friendly for his own good. Here, let's get you a towel, shall we?"

You follow him into the weyr, and he occasionally glances back at you with his aquamarine eyes, as Potch the canine runs on ahead, barking back at both of you. The boy grins and starts to talk to you. "This weyr is pretty big, and it's a long way to Lower Caverns. I haven't any towels of my own so you'll have to borrow one. I'm F'lick, by the way, rider of blue Ramath, and head Searchrider. You?" You answer his query. "Ah, I see. Ramath's asleep. Whoops, better be quiet right now," he whispers as you pass an opening where an average-sized blue (which is really still very large) dragon sleeps. His hide gleams in good health. "That's Ramath, by the way," F'lick adds.

Finally, you get to the Lower Caverns, where the Headwoman Kitera is scolding a drudge for being idle. She waves absently at F'lick and you as you pass, and F'lick finds a towel for your still-slobbery face. You wipe off and ask about him, because you really don't have much else to do.

He looks surprised. "Well... Hm, that's the first time anyone's really asked about me in, say, two Turns." He grins at you. "Let's see... I was born in Southern--" that explains his accent-- "and lived there till I was twelve. I moved to Middle Weyr with my mother and father, and lived with them until I Impressed Ramath," there is an unmistakable tone of affection in his voice at the dragon's name, "where I got my own weyr." He shrugs. "Ramath is good at finding the most likely candidates, and most of the people he picks Impress." He grins. "T'yir was one of 'em. Oh, but I've probably bored you to death with my unexciting life, now haven't I? Whoops, Ramath's getting up. I'd better bring him down to the feeding grounds. Potch, c'mere," he calls as he waves farewell, walking back towards his weyr with Potch, leaving you to explore Middle Weyr more.

back