The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by Dallaney.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction
are copyright© 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern® is
registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with
permission.
Editor's Note: It is a spring midday, with hope, new growth
and Life: fresh air! Dallan's still 10 turns and 6 months; D'aad's 31. Participants
-- Aliea and her PDed glowy green Lyssath, K'no and brown Chesketh, K'ren and bronze
Pyranth, Betha and blue Remorth, Kryten and his NPC C'bal and Fatusth, Karli and bronze
Kalith, and NPC D'aad and his brown Raplath.
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 Spyder, Saionji, Killian, Neriset, Frazap, and Marley.
You see S'am here.
Kayrelen, Robyn, R'sha, Aliea, K'no, Kryten, Toria, K'ren, Betha, and Karli are here.
From here you can go:
Lower Caverns Bowl
Infirmary
Kitchen
Gaming Room
K'ren strips off his gloves as he strides into the cavern and tosses them onto the
Weyrling table with little more than a sneer cast back towards the bowl where a certain
bronze dragon lurks. His attention is snapped back to the room as he brushes near a
certain Weyrwoman, "Whoa... excuse me, there... Toria?/."
Betha arches a brow as she steps in. All sorts of bodies about the place. Slipping off her
gloves and rider's cap she gives her head a 'Cosmopolitan' flick and her hair bounces
about lightly then cascades over her shoulders and back.
C'bal pours himself a drink, foregoing the usual containers for a large mug attached to
his belt, easily the size of your average human head. Luckily, it doesn't look like one.
Heavy footsteps take him to a table, where the ogre of a man sits in a chair several sizes
too small for him, looking very much like an adult sitting in at a child's tea party.
"So which one of you has my Fatusth all in a tizzy? Poor little guy can barely keep
himself flying straight." Little guy, right. Fatusth is usually mistaken for a large
rock, or a hillside.
Toria nods in a greeting fashion to R'sha, eyes glinting sharply with pleasure, though the
reason for the pleasure is vague if at all apparent. As she is brushed, her smile
flickers, then catches solid again. "Oh, Weyrlingmaster, ... K'ren, hello." A
very faint hint of rose tints her angular cheeks; barely a dusting.
K'no looks up at the weyrwoman and throws a her a crisp salute. "Hello, Toria!"
He grins and waves to betha, then squeezes R'sha's shoulder. He smirks at kayrelen, then
blinks. "Book? I... Uh...mm.... Uh-oh... I think I left it in my Weyr... Uhhmmmm...
I'll get it back to you tomorrow, okay?" He nods and stretches, smiling at Karli.
"Wow, everyone's in here." Soft laugh is emitted as the rider's eyes scan the
room.
Resa walks into Main Living Cavern.
Aliea nods sharply, one hand resting on the back of the nearest chair and turning it about
briskly before ploping herself into the seat. "Thanks," she replies towards
Robyn, mindless of the incoming riders. She just wants be awake for her bratty lifemate in
the bowl, and the next call. Which is on hold as she nods towards Toria in greeting. Seen
or unseen. Looking towards C'bal, she shrugs and comments, "Maybe he's just having a
bad day?" Like she is?
Neriset dozes off...
Resa pads out from the lower caverns, headed towards the pot of klah. After grabbing a mug
full of the steaming liquid she turns and surveys the room, seeing who all she knows here
tonight.
Dallaney rolls into the cavern, looking half smothered by clothes a size too big for her,
and trailing behind a man--rider only slightly taller than her ten turns of age. The brown
eyes of both scan the room in wry appraisal, but their ways split at a table; the Igenite
D'aad stretches his length into a seat with a call of "Hello, Telgar," while
Dallan herself simply heads deeper in.
Tenor wakes up from his nap.
Waving briskly to K'no, Betha walks over and fetches herself a bubbly pie. Ooooh, a scent
from the kitchen catches her so Betha scampers off to investigate.
Betha strides towards toward Telgar Kitchens.
K'ren flashes a quick smile, although it looks a bit forced, "Pyranth's been in a
foul mood. I can't think straight when he's like this... and apparently walking doesn't
come easy either. My apologies." Something in the Weyrwoman's arms catches his
attention, "What have we here?"
D'aad has arrived.
R'sha looks up -- and up -- at C'bal, blinking slowly. "Huh?" she asks, not
comprehending the question. Then, suddenly remembering that she's standing there dumbly in
the middle of the living caverns, holding a mostly-full plate and glass, she sits -- this
time making sure that there's a chair under her first -- and smiles at K'no, before
placing her dishes on the table and digging in. Something tells her she'd better eat now,
because she might not get the chance to later.
"G'd evening,m'dam," The polite greeting is directed towards the weyrwoman as
she is in the midst of pouring a mug of klah for herself. " Want some?" she
calls out to Kayrelen before shaking her head at her flit who is ignoring her ofter.
Shrugging, she carries the plate and walks back to her table. Well, she's not letting the
rolls go into waste. She finds herself a seat and watches in interest at the goings on in
the cavern with a causal nod oftered to Dallan.
C'bal shakes his lion's mane of reddish hair, laughing a booming laugh originating from
somewhere inside the carvern of his belly. "Ho, that's rich. Fatusth having a bad
day! Indeed. Fatusth hasn't had a bad day since....since who knows how long. Been keping
him rather secluded. Guess I picked th worng day to visit, no?" The amazing collosal
wine mug is have drained with one gulp, the sleeve of his dusty leather used as an
impromptu napkin for his wine-soaked beard.
Toria promptly tosses off salutes and nods where they are needed, then turns back to
K'ren. At his question she brightens further, if possible, as she offers up the tiny
bundle she is holding, "It's Summer Dawn, I just impressed her. Isn't she lovely? And
sweet, nothing like my other four." As if they understood, the quad give a chidding
scold to the Weyrwoman before dipping between to sulk.
Kayrelen pauses, eyeing the two last struggling flits while /trying/ to keep one golden
orb trailing Nightsky's every movement. "K'no... I need that book... like
today!" She doesn't look at him, she only strikes out again at the trashing bag of
wings and such. "Ow! Stop that you stupid things! I'm trying to help you!" She
lets out a hiss and pulls her wounded finger to her lips to hopefully nurse the pain away
for a few moments. But her bag isn't going to take much more of this, and so the
apprentice reaches out again and fingers quickly untangle Dusksky, who of course quickly
makes a getaway ::between::. And so there's only the she-demon left--Dawnsky. "Good
afternoon Weyrwoman." Kayre finally calls out as she hears the others greet the gold
rider and as an attempt to stall freeing the little wildly thrashing green.
Resa just watches, trying to figure out what all is going on here. Taking a sip from the
mug, she peers at the others, calling out a greeting here and there to Kayrelen and the
weyrwoman.
K'ren has probably missed any smiles and waves that were directed his way. Bad
Weyrlingmaster. An all-purpose grin is flashed to the cavern in general and then back to
Toria, "Aha... saddled with another one, are you? And gold to boot." He clucks
his tongue and winks, "May your two never go proddy at once. I don't think the Weyr
could handle it."
Toria blinks, which is promptly followed by a blanch. "Oh, I hadn't thought of
that." She suddenly looks at the sweet sleeping golden firelizard with a new light,
not a very bright one either. Frowning briefly, she shrugs and turns on her heels,
"Suddenly I'm not so hungry afterall... Good'day, Weyrlingmaster, all... " and
leaves.
Toria walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
Aliea wouldn't be much help to explain what is going on, gaze narrowly focused about the
room. All she was going to find was a /quiet/ place to be. Sinking lower into her seat for
a moment, another sip is taken as she suddenly blinks and /stares/ at her mug. This isn't
what she wanted, is it? Briskly standing, she heads back towards the the food table with
an unknown saunt to her step. Shifting her gaze towards K'ren and K'no, maybe she's
measuring both up to some standard. Passing D'aad, she boldly winks and smiles in
greeting, adding a "Hello" towards him. Blink. Wait. When did she suddenly
become intrested in men? At least enough to flirt?
Katha has arrived.
Katha arrives.
K'no lifts an eyebrow at Aliea. "Ahhmm... Hey there..." He nods to Aliea and
throws her a lopsided grin. "How do you do?" He smiles and crosses his arms over
his chest and smirks a bit, nodding to K'ren, also.
Betha strides towards into Main Living Cavern.
Tai has arrived.
Katha drops Tai.
Icey blue eyes follow Aliea's movements, C'bal thinking to himself that this might not be
so tedious after all. Just in case however, he downs the rest of his wine and sets the mug
down with a loud thud. The toothy grin is back
again, though with a definite focus.
Resa suddenly remembers a new class, and rushes off to, hoping she's not too late!
Resa walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
D'aad gets his klah from a drudge, mixed with a morose scowl at the girl. Not that she's
slow, the guy just gets to frown at everyone. His long-legged stance scoots back from the
bench and he stands, running fingers through the mop of tousled umber. The passing Aliea
gets a wink in return, a decided smirk running across slim lips. "Ahh, its springtime
again. Telgar has it good, I haven't seen a proper spring back home for turns." He
strides up and past, deliberately eyeing the girl. Question's addressed to the whole room,
"And how's Telgar today?"
(D'aad)
Dark-skinned, small, this brownrider combines wry elegance with a lank-limbed stride.
Unusually long legs and arms give him the look of a primate, and umber hair, well groomed,
has plastered itself limp back his pate, brushing past his forehead. His gait varies from
slink to seacrafter's roll, and often with his hallmark grin as well.
His leathers are basic, worn with an easy flamboyance shrugged into the tawny tans.
D'aad is 31 Turns, 4 Months, and 25 Days old.
Betha walks out from the kitchen with a tray. Upon the tray is a bowl of stew and fresh
bread. The rider's eyes go wide, lots more people her face seems to exclaim. Meekly she
walks over to a near empty table and finds herself a spot to rest and eat.
(Raplath) Northern Curve of the Bowl
(Raplath) 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.
(Raplath) It is a clear, crisp evening It is a spring evening.
(Raplath) Flittering around, you see DawnSky.
(Raplath) The following dragons are here: Azraeth, Sazarith, Janareth, Palsth, Diamath,
Lyssath, Lhanath, Chesketh, Remorth, and Pyranth
Katha walks toward Lower Caverns.
Kryten goes home.
Maybe R'sha doesn't like something in Aliea's new manner, or maybe her lifemate's jealousy
is beginning to rub off on her a little. At any rate, the greenrider has stopped eating
long enough to look up, and glance between K'no and her clutchmate. Her eyes narrow
slightly; then she brightens, smiling up at the brownrider across the table from her.
"How've you been lately?" she asks cheerfully.
K'ren strides over the weyrling table, retrieves his discarded gloves, and folds himself
neatly into a chair. A passing drudge is waved over; after a few words are spoken, she
scampers off and returns a few moments later with a steaming mug of klah. A nod is tipped
in gratitude, but nothing more is offered as he shoos her away.
(Raplath) Chesketh trumpets confusedly, not used to being.. flirted with. He looks at
Lhanath and croons to her, then looks at Lyssath and croons to her. Descisions, descision!
He stretches his wings again and coils up his muscles in preperation. Looks like he's made
his choice. His tail sweeps back behinde him as he gets ready to go aloft.
Kayrelen takes a 'hop' forwards, fingers quickly wrap about the bag and within a few
moments Dawn is separated from the bag and Kayre is up and in a full speed run towards
where her new home resides. No, she doesn't leave the chance for the green to give her
'pet' a few nasty cuts or ruin her clothes. "Don't you dare follow me you... you...
/thing/!" She manages to get out before her form dashes through the exit. Free! Free!
Well, sort of...
Vegeta has arrived.
Karli drops Vegeta.
Vegeta flitters toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Raplath the brown sits crouched, a little lazy, a little sleepy. Only
glow-tinged eyes whirl endlessly, deep from his skull sockets. Watching, waiting, and for
whom?
(Raplath) Vegeta flitters toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
Toria just changed the @party!
There's a glowing green in Telgar, and Lyssath has decided that now is a good time to take
to the skies. Pre-flight (proddy) RP will be in Telgar Weyr's Living Cavern. The flight
will start at 9 EST (8 CST). @Move to #919. Riders and non-riders are welcome to
particpate in the fun! NPC dragons are welcome. Page Aliea! /AND/ Jagged Spires kicks off
their gather tonight, so make sure to stop in! @move to #1170 or catch your local dragon
express!
Entered by Toria (#8135) at Fri Mar 24 19:54:02 2000 MST
(Raplath) Lyssath finds a sudden disattraction to the males and the annoying female and
eyes the eastern curve warily, whatever for.. the Queen prowls forward and with a hop,
skip, and jump of green body moves purposefully forward; towards the pens.. eyes whirling
a color becoming more and more to resembling orange..
(Raplath) Lyssath gracefully lumbers toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Pyranth uncoils from the ground in serpantine fashion and stretches from head to
tail. Wings billow outwards as his head turns towards the feeding grounds. The Need -- It
calls.
(Raplath) Chesketh waddles toward Ground Weyrs.
(Raplath) Pyranth launches powerfully into the air!
(Raplath) From Sky Above Northern Curve of the Bowl, Pyranth drifts gracefully, fiery
wings caressing the air, toward Sky Above the Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Chesketh has arrived.
(Raplath) Chesketh waddles toward Eastern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Lhanath slinks, swishing svelte tail rhythmically toward Western Curve.
(Raplath) Feeding Pens
(Raplath) 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.
(Raplath) It is a clear, crisp evening It is a spring evening.
(Raplath) Lounging on the pen rails, you see DawnSky.
(Raplath) The following dragons are here: Lyssath, Pyranth, and Chesketh
(Raplath) From Outside the Feeding Pens, Raplath flitters toward Feeding Pens.
Aliea continues on her way towards the food table, catching the look from D'aad with one
of her winsome smiles usually reserved for....well, other events. Pausing and just
/looking/ towards the bowl, the oddest stream of words that could only be learned from
traveling. "Why you, sharding.." Here we go again. Darting towards the bowl,
she's already upset enough to keep blooding only foremost in her mind.
(Raplath) Chesketh screeches and descends upon an unwary herdbeast, and before it even has
time to bleat, it's dead. The throat is slitted and the brown drinks from the creature's
neck, draining the life from it, slurping up the warm liquid and twitching his tail
excitedly. He discards the empty corpse and swings his head around, ravonus eyes searching
for a /new/ meal, such as that plump little heardbeast over there...
K'no looks at the two green riders, almost as bewildered as his life mate and shakes his
head. "I'm... Uh, fine really." He stands up and walks around the chair, then
the table, and heads over to the food table and picks him up a meatroll and starts to
munch down on it as he heads back. "And you? How are you, R'sha?" He smiles at
Aliea, though. He can't really control it.. Honestly.
Betha's eyes squint monentarily. Spoon begins to go from bowl to mouth as she begins
eating her meal. She gives a quick shudder, closes her eyes for a moment then returns to
eating.
(Raplath) Kalith appears, light shimmery dried dirt hued wings carry his not big, but not
exactly small bronze form down from one of the high up ledges. Tail lashes about behind
him as his mind races and the exact 'chosen' herdbeast is sought out, but not quite found
yet. Wings ripple with tension as he doesn't find what he wishes to find and down his form
'falls', down to the ground with a soft rumbling thud. He waits now, waits for just the
right time... Now? No no, not quite yet.
(Raplath) Remorth swoops down from above and quickly lands in an empty spot, surveying the
herds intently.
K'ren slumps in his chair, a posture nearly unseen in regards to the Weyrlingmaster. His
mug teeters precariously on a knee, the occasional splash of hot liquid onto leathers
going unnoticed as he focuses his narrowed gaze on the bowl.
(Raplath) Raplath springs in, and slow though he might be and behind the other dragons, he
huddles at the edges. A heartbeat later, the serrated brown launches, raucous cry ripping
from his throat-- an isolated cry of a wherry apart from the rest rings from the corner of
the grounds where he is. Jaws dip, drinking his wine of life, this unwonted intruder -not
of Telgar- glaring his anticipation.
A thump is heard from Betha's direction. Her head seems to have smacked the table for some
reason. She grins and looks up hoping nobody else has noticed her clothing.
(D'aad) Betha
(D'aad) Long flowing auburn hair now cut back to just above the collar, bangs nearly
trimmed away to a very obscure cut. No longer does it obscure her face, nor block her
view. Petite face, shows determination, green eyes have a fire to them. Her nose, looking
somewhat fragile peeks out over ruby red lips. Her skin, still has that powdery whiteness
to it. Glancing at her now and then you might notice a freckle or two.
(D'aad)
(D'aad) Although not to short, she still stands approximately 5ft 3in or so. Her form not
gasply thin seems to suit her just fine. Now and then, her lips part in a smile, or some
other expression.
(D'aad)
(D'aad) Eyes shifting this way and that now and again to take in her surroundings. Now and
again for no particular reason she smiles. But now, that's few and far between it seems.
(D'aad) Her hair glistens with water, a towel wrapped about her. Feet bare but gathering
dirt from the bowl's floor. Water glistens and shimmers as it dribbles down her arms and
legs. A sparkle of reflected light draws sudden attention to a pair of copper earings
nestled snugly in Betha's ears.
(D'aad) Who know's how old.
(D'aad) She is awake and looks alert.
(D'aad) Perceptibly quiet.
(D'aad) It would appear that this woman as had waaay to much klah to drink.
R'sha glances after Aliea, peering outside again, and frowns -- and then, the lightbulb
goes off at last. Her eyes widen as her gaze snaps back to K'no. "Did -- did Chesketh
-- is he... maybe you'd better go follow her," she says, nodding in the direction of
the departing greenrider. "I... don't think she ought to be by herself right
now." She smiles weakly. Perhaps like dragon, like rider isn't always the case.
(Raplath) Pyranth lunges towards a fleeing buck, snags it with a sudden flex of his
talons, and draws the twitching body closer to his hulking form. Wings fold into a canopy,
keeping his prey hidden from those around him as he dips his muzzle and drink languidly of
the warm fluid. His tail lashes behind and a deep rumble surfaces from bronzen depths as
he quickly drains the carcass.
K'no bites his lower lip and nods to R'sha. "You'll be alright, won't you,
R'sha?" He looks at her a bit worried, then gives her a kiss on the cheek and stands
back up and makes off after the other green rider, at an easy pace.
(Raplath) She's not a beast; she's royalty. You have to eat with /style/. Lyssath
gracefully moves forward, slightly gliding as she does. Now wary beasts move away from
Queen-frequented areas but speedy talons rip through flesh. Just as large muzzle moves for
the flesh; a renegade thought flashes through her mind and blood is sought only. Not ready
to be tamed, flesh is sought for again yet denied, and so the Queen calms, that is the
only thing that she will obey now.
Betha slips her hand to her forhead hiding her eyes in some fashion as she returns to
eating. Her other hand reaches for the thick slice of bread resting on the tray and is
bitten into as it enters Betha's mouth.
That constant stream of swearing has maintained all the way towards the bowl, Aliea
striding and stumbling outside with a narrowed gaze. There was a reason for that spiked
klah, wasn't there?
Aliea confidently strides towards toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
Karli walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
K'no walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
D'aad strides past Betha's table, engaging in a bit of pacing himself. Hands crooked, he
screeches his nails, long ones, past the surface, a grin emerging for the rider's outfit.
"You look wonderful," he remarks wryly. A moment later, his head snaps up, eyes
wild. A sulk occurs to pull down his lips into their habitual expression. "Not
/now/!" He snaps at the offending creature's rider, and cringes as if in pain. His
boots inevitably follow though.
D'aad flitters toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Kalith's angular head then is pulled back, faceted eyes shift ever so
dangerously between the shade of deep sapphire and brilliant violet. Paper thin wings are
outstretched and taunt muscles suddenly bunch up before releasing, sending the young
inexperienced bronze into the air and ruthlessly down upon a herdbeast that strayed too
close in an attempt to get away from one of the other blooding males. The muffled snap of
vertebrae is emitted from the dragon's massive jaws and hardly a moment later the limp and
drained form of the animal is dropped lifelessly upon the verdant tainted soil. And as
Lyssath moves, as her form looms ever so regally above him, he has no choice but to be
content with one dose of sanguine life fluid, and his wings unfurls to send him skittering
away from the glowing green's intimidating form.
(Raplath) Chesketh smacks said herdbeast with his tail, sending it into a flurry of pain
as he pounces on it. No sooner than does he cut the throat on this beast too, and starts
gulping down the blood. Granted, it's not as filling as hercbeast flesh, but for now, it
will definatly do. he slurps the last of the blood from the corpse and looks around for
any other victems, but instead keeps his eye on Queeny.
K'ren lurches up from his chair, tosses his mug onto the table, and follows the train of
riders. How can he not?
K'ren saunters toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Remorth raises his head sniffing the morning air. Wings flick out smartly as he
takes to the air. His whole body arches as he dives upon a herdbeast and fells it. The
fallen prey is pounced upon and nigh a drop is is spilled as he begins to suckle crimson
liquid from the beast's neck.
R'sha will be fine, naturally. She'll just sit here... and eat her lunch... and drink her
juice... and maybe stare at the wall some, since everybody else seems to be abandoning
her. At least she'll get to eat in peace.
Betha blinks a few times the dispatches herself from the cavern. Like a firelizard drawn
to food the blue ride follows the pack.
(D'aad) Aliea confidently strides towards toward Ground Weyrs.
(D'aad) K'no walks toward Ground Weyrs.
(D'aad) K'ren saunters toward Ground Weyrs.
(D'aad) Ground Weyrs
(D'aad) This is entrance to a complex set of immense tunnels capable of allowing even the
largest bronzes and golds to move without much hindrance. Scents of redwort and numbweed
alert you that the infirmary and invalid weyr is in this area. The ground is kept void of
all plant life. Throughout the day you may spy some apprentices or weyr children cleaning
the grounds outside of here. There is a few ground weyrs for important guest or double as
invalid weyrs if the need is enough.
(D'aad) It is a clear, crisp evening It is a spring evening.
(D'aad) K'no and K'ren are here.
Betha strides towards toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(D'aad) K'no walks toward Guest Ground Weyr.
(D'aad) Guest Ground Weyr
(D'aad) 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.
(D'aad) Aliea and K'no are here.
(D'aad) From here you can go:
(D'aad) Out
(D'aad) K'ren has arrived.
(D'aad) Karli has arrived.
Robyn remains in her seat, quietly finishing her meatrolls
as she watches the departure of the people in the room before she searches for any familar
face , for she does not feel like eatting alone.
(D'aad) Betha has arrived.
(Raplath) Pyranth discards the lifeless body with little more than a grunt and, again, is
aloft! Wings shear the air as he descends rapidly towards another beast, its wild calls
silenced the instant the bronze shadow makes contact and drags the poor, broken body to
the ground. Talons claw against the still-warm body, streams of blood pouring from each
talon-pricked opening. Pleased with the result, the bronze lowers his head and laps
slowly, savoring the moment.
(Raplath) Raplath is already on his second one, eating neatly for his scar-marked age.
Rearing again, he snags a milling herdbeast out of its pack, snapping the jugular in a
brief burst of rage. Neck rotates to appraise each and every one, a born-again calm
shimmering thoroughout his sinuous frame. He feasts cleanly, no doubt, and ignore the
vermillion smattering the tawny paws.
(Raplath) Lyssath sips dry her fourth victim beast, tossing prim head from side to side;
throwing corpse outwards towards equally wary males. All these appears to bore female
mind, something more is sought, something more then the dripping blood she knows exists
inside herdbeast now eyed eagerly. Eyes begin to roll upwards.. towards those darling
little clouds; what a beautiful world up there.. with a deep punching of muscles, swift,
lithe body shoots upwards, what a joy! Up, up.. to be one with the clouds.
Aodh flitters in from Infirmary.
Aodh flitters toward Lower Caverns.
(Raplath) Chesketh bugles happily. Now's the time he's been waiting for! His powerful hid
muscles uncoil, sending the brown zipping up into the air as his snaps his wings open and
takes up pursuit of Aliea, eyes now whirling orange and red, not a single bit of blue can
be seen in the large orbs. He focuses on the green Lyssath and cuts all the other dragons
out of his mind. For the moment, she is the only one here.
(Raplath) Remorth once again tosses his head skywards and trumpets his eagerness to catch
the green. Without a third thought he springs to join in the flight. Wings and claws
grasping at the winds to light him higher, to reach the only green jewel in the sky.
(Raplath) Pyranth snaps his wings outwards with a sudden rumble, whirling orbs following
the green's ascent just a moment before talons push off against the half-drained corpse of
his prey, launching him into the sky. Nostrils flare against the onrush of wind as he
rises, swift and sure, violet-tinged gaze focused on one -- and she is Lyssath.
(Raplath) Raplath is playing the evil-doer just for today-- or is it today? Like his
lifemate, he is clad in a shade that's almost sable, certainly somber. He drops the dry
corpse to the ground as well in a swift swing, a graceful if gory dance in itself.
Following Lyssath's example in this too, he tilts towards the skies, cloaked shape
unbunching in order to launch the brown. He /is/ other.
(Raplath) Kalith's little bronzen form comes alive movement. Every muscle upon his body
was bunched up and then the energy is released and his small--not overly so mind you--form
shoots up. Wings are violently pushed up, out, and then down, sending a spray of little
soil clots, balls, and even little rocks jumping in every direction. Frail, seemingly
breakable wing sails are filled with air and away he goes, up, up, further away from the
now forgotten world that lay so far below his dancing form. He's captured by her, the
queen of the sky rises and he has been caught in her web and made to serve her--or at
least chase helplessly after her with all his heart and soul. Eyes whirl, pushing the navy
away so that the violet can take over every facet upon his eyes. He's fallen victim to
her, completely, and he will not give up! Or at least he doesn't think he will...
R'sha finishes her meal at last and stands up, offering a wave of departure to the others
as she heads off to go try and console her lifemate.
R'sha walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
Aodh flitters into Main Living Cavern.
Aodh flitters toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(D'aad) Aodh has arrived.
Dallaney has her head buried in her hands, a small kidlet quite marooned. D'aad's off
somewhere, she just knows it.
Kayrelen goes home.
Falanis has arrived.
Falanis walks toward Northern Curve of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Orante patteners; flowery garlands shimmering as
sunlight flings across mint hide. Lyssath wrinkles muzzle in slight disgust; how boring to
merely shoot upwards. Lithe body stretches to the side and dives headlong into the clouds,
head popping downwards to look expectantly down at Chesketh. Why aren't you flying
/better/, my dear? And then she's gone again, swooping through out, sometimes swirling
through their slow, male, midsts. Is this flirty one dancing to find her knight in shining
armor? Or perhaps the shadowy phantom to sweep her off her feet..
(Raplath) Chesketh rumbles. So she wants to see /real/ flying? That's what I'm built for!
He catches a thermal and shoots up after the green, folding his wings back to gain speed
and catch up with her. /This/ better? He trumpets to her and barrel-rolls after her, wings
pumping easily to keep up with the green queen.
(Raplath) The clouds above swallow up Remorth's form in
it's cold clutches then he drops from the clouds happily. Wings fold to their sides as he
dives towards flowering green. Eyes swirling bloody crimson only seeing Lyssath's glow.
Tail snakes through the air stearing him keenly.
(Raplath) Kalith is a knight, by the looks of his pale bronze form he is, but in heart he
is more like the lowly squire that only /dreams/ of being the knight he's served every
waking moment with every inch of their heart and soul. He'd follow that knight to his
death and be none the prouder, and this is what Kalith is, one that would push until he
can't push any further. Slender wings give a quick pump and he quickly tries to close to
not so good gap between him and the speeding queen of the sky. A gust suddenly kisses his
wings, sending him further up into the sky, higher, higher, so all that can be seen of him
from the ground is a little speck of muted bronze. I follow m'lady, don't forget about
your loyal Knight's squire. Just let him prove himself, he can be a Knight, Phantom, or
whatever else she wants if she'd only let him try...
(Raplath) Raplath can do omniscience too; he releases barely tensed muscles in a so-soft
lofting upwards that belies his large size. And all for the beauteous green who's skirting
convention. Sunlit wingspan spread wide to embrace the air, he slips into a current
directly below her path. Brown hide seeks concealment in clouds, for that undertow to pull
her under--he bypasses a too-tiny blue with a bugle, a bassoon's chuckle-- tracing
Lyssath's dance in his own dark glory.
(Raplath) Pyranth is a shadow indeed -- Lyssath's shadow. Wings flirt with the drafts and
pinions scour the air as he follows the green into the clouds. Muscles coil about
attendant bone as ichor boils within his veins, encouraging more speed from his long,
lithe body. Persistence is the key, says he... and his experience shall be her bane.
Dallaney notices a child she knows and beckons to him, and both scamper away.
(Raplath) Piccolo! A flute; whistling calmly through the
clouds; Lyssath plays upon the clouds, like a bow across a sky-blue violin. Ah, the
beauty. Shadow, indeed, swift as an arrow, Queen shall dismiss these slaves that do her
bidding. Swooping and diving among the clouds, sometimes hiding, sometimes popping out to
tease a few. Mint hide brushes past Pyranth temptingly but is gone too fast for capture;
lets see how a shadow can cling, yet green body is zooming past. Knights, squires.. only
the best can capture the attention of this Lady of Them All; and that one will have
/style/, and /grace/,.. and
/speed/..
(Raplath) Chesketh trumpets. Doesn't trumpeting signify the entrance of a knight? Well,
that doesn't matter, as the brown ascends to heights after the green, using his compact
body to keep up with the green, and to avoid any annoying turbulance. He zips up after
her, sending out another joyous trumpet to her, and barrel-rolls, then backwings a bit to
slow down as he gets a bit dizzy from the speed. He follows her to the best of his
abilities, arching upside down in and out of clouds after her, getting lost when he
doesn't see her re-emerge.
(Raplath) Style, /that/ he has. Grace... well, he's working on that you see, and speed,
no, he's fast but not as swift as a blue, or even of a small brown. Kalith is still young
yet, not /quite/ fully grown, and still young and foolish, which he shows quite well by
continuing to soar up into the air, fluffy pillow like clouds tempt every tiring muscle in
his body, but he does not stray, whirling eyes continue to follow the glowing near lime
dragon. Above and the rest of her tantalizing pursuers, which equally deserve her of
course. But he, /he/ wants to be the one to claim, and at the thought of her with another
dragon his wings kick into high gear and his energy supply is tapped and quickly burned.
And he /is/ the best squire, the little boy /everyone/ wants but only one can have. But
then she'd have to find that out for herself, he couldn't prove it any more then that. And
while others
trumpet or bellow, he stays silent, clinging to the upper skies like a hawk before
swooping in for it's latest kill.
(Raplath) Pyranth twitches at the sudden brush of green hide against bronze and rumbles in
protest as she slips away. No Knight is he; forget the baggage of chivalry that comes with
such a position -- he is the shadow, the mysterious Merlin, weaving speed from the very
air with those fire-bright wings. He calls again to the lady, low and rumbling like
distant thunder -- the promise of rain, the promise of sweet, sublime release.
(Raplath) Remorth darts towards blossoming green in hopes of catching her. Wings begin to
beat somewhat daringly to catch her then suddenly something overcomes him. His head
swivels towards the weyr's bowl. His body contorts slightly so he can scritch an itchy
spot. Of course it does look like something else but he's doing it with style, grace,
poise and such.
(Raplath) Raplath pursues the lady indeed, draconic breath emitting in a shiny, trombone's
rumble. He sings for her as well, deep rumbles urging on the continued umbrella of
widespread 'sails. And he hulks below, deftly dodging the clouds that obscure Her from
him; awareness encompassing the rest of the pack that seeks the green's favours. Slowly
but surely, he arches in flight, through the tickling clouds, the alien rising just
beneath the rest.
(Raplath) Bronzes, browns, blues. All that is boring, and yet, what would be more
interesting then someone to dance in the clouds with? A smooth phantom dancer would be
nice; or a flowery prince. Lyssath spreads out apple-hued wings, speculating the scene of
males underneath her. Tail deftly smashes a cloud passed by, mint hide rippling with the
passing air; release! O' Blessed release.. and the promise of things, perhaps males are
not so bad? Green body twists backwards and darts past those of the males, this time
surveying each, scrutinizing.
(Raplath) Chesketh croons to the green as she passes him by and flips up onto his back and
turns over, doing a neat 180 and zipping back fater the green, but sneakily keeping his
distance, as he is a wary one. He bugles to her and dips in and out of dives and climbs,
making his flight as erratic, but some how pretty, as he can, yet still keeping that
glowing green queen in his orange and red whirlwind sights. His wings fold back to gain
speed and he bobs left and right, hitting a thermal every now and then. Hey, even a
knight can trip up in full suit of armor, can't he?
(Raplath) Remorth twists about with wings outstreatched tail slicing the wind. His head
crains out in hopefullness to touch the green's supple hide. His draconic voice calls out
enticingly to Lyssath.
(Raplath) Pyranth twists back unto himself, head briefly
meeting his tail as he turns, intent on keeping up with such an acrobatic green. He dances
higher, spirals against the brisk thermals as wings greedily cup at the air. Muscles
strain against gravity's unforgiving hold; the shadow struggles on, reluctant to fade into
darkness when the light is so becoming.
(Raplath) Raplath silently strives, whip-like, to splice the clouds, swooping in the steps
of the age-old tango, the rose in his repertoire. He, unlike Lyssath, has only one goal
for now, and keeps his gaze trained /there/, molten glowlamps eerily bright in his wedge
head. His path is taking him in the right direction, or so thinks he, and the umber
villain keeps pacing her, wingbeats shredding the sky in decisive fits.
(Raplath) Kalith's form is tiring, slowly falling behind as much as he struggles to keep
up. But he's failing, his pale dust colored form is, as much as he'd deny that fact,
falling further and further behind the pack of wolves that seem to be moving in for the
kill, and so he just watches from above, gliding and then struggling to stay close enough
yet not too close--not as if he could /get/ too close with the loss of energy taking it's
toll upon his form. Wings pump, once, then twice, he can finish this, or at least stay up
here until the Queen makes her decision, or a fatal mistake falls victim to the mass of
starving swift wolves.
(Raplath) Lyssath swerves amongst these striving males; what fools these male-ones be.
Green body moves like a shadow across Pyranth's hide again, and then tail whaps upon
Raplath's back. Green Queen knows you're there. Chesketh is eyed, following the Flower
Queen, hmm? Kalith is glanced upon also, poor tired one, hmm.
(Raplath) Chesketh has a long ways to go before he sleeps, and he's not going to sleep
without that green by his side! He does another barrel roll and snaps his wings out and
speeds up after the green. Maybe I can catch her and be the Rose Knight? Time will tell.
The brown flaps his powerful wings, speeding up again after the green, orange orbs causing
a dazzling effect against his brown head as he dips and swerves after the rosebud green
queen.
(Raplath) Remorth begins to tire, wings faultering slightly as he begins to make a mad
dash for the gree M&M that Lyssath is. Is this enough to catch her, to feel his hide
against hers? Who knows........
(Raplath) Raplath feels the whapping of that the green's tail, and follows it with a
fuzzed brown muzzle, not chasing but a gentle nudge in the way he thinks is right. For
this one will capture, not join, and he cuts up through the air to the -open?- space
slightly above and in front of him in an attempt at interception. He might be tired, but
this dark one would not show it; a bare rippling of muscled flanks is the merest shudder
he will manifest.
(Raplath) Pyranth rumbles again, frustration marking his very tone as he's brushed once
more. Weakened wings struggle against atmosphere as the bronze tries to edge through the
crowd of other males -- closer, he must get closer. Limbs and tail extend as he reaches
for the cooling promise of mint-hide, intent on matching it against the gilded flames of
his own.
(Raplath) Kalith is allowed to be tired, to not pity the tired young bronze, he does not
need your pitty! A sound is allowed to push free from his half agape air gasping muzzle, a
trumpet, challenging of sorts, but laden with tiredness. He's /trying/ to keep up, proving
to her, the queen of the fae who live in the flowers, he's /trying/ to keep up with the
near dream of the green, but he's failing, even if he's refusing to give, he /is/ falling
behind and his struggles are not helping anything but to tire him. But still, he pushes
on, oblivious to all else but catching up and teaching that verdant queen what type of
beautiful spring they could have. The flowers that could spring forth from of such a
perfect union. But those are all dreams, and at about this time he is realizing that.
Wings are slowing, form is loosing altitude, but... he... can't... give... up...
(Raplath) Lyssath has settled down for a gentle slumber, dreaming about flowers.
(Raplath) Lyssath soars upon the bodies of the others before landing in the clutches of
one, eyes blooming into a deepened blue from the orange they were. Rippling wings relax;
the phantom has struck, a knight in itself. Lyssath and Raplath. The green furls and
pitches, comfortable finally, relaxing finally; in the grasp of the chosen.
(Raplath) Pyranth coils away from the entwined dragons and heads directly for the lake.
(Raplath) Pyranth strikes a path toward Outside the Feeding Pens.
(Raplath) From Outside the Feeding Pens, Pyranth strikes a path toward Training Grounds.
(Raplath) Chesketh trumpets, wether in rage, jealousy, or congratulations, only He and his
rider can tell. but whichever it is, he hitails it from there, altogether.
(Raplath) Chesketh waddles toward Outside the Feeding Pens.
(Raplath) Betha clambers up limb and straps, finally settling on Remorth's neck.
(Raplath) From Outside the Feeding Pens, Chesketh waddles toward Center of the Bowl.
(Raplath) Kalith finally gives up, wings too tired to do more then let the poor young
bronze drop, or fall, to his ledge where he quickly disappears. Good flight, even if he
lost...
(Raplath) DawnSky goes ::between::
(Raplath) Remorth glides, facing windward then vanishes between.
(Raplath) Raplath -- finds the flower of his, and wraps wings and tail tight-- to hold the
gem he claims for his.
(Raplath) Lyssath disappears suddenly for parts unknown.
=================================================================
Message 17 of 19 on
*TelgarWeyr (#280):
Date: Sat Mar 25 13:18:02 2000 MST
From: Aliea (#6889)
To: *TelgarWeyr (#280) and *Riders (#1492)
Subject: Lyssath's Flight (Part Dux.)
After a long and merry chase though Telgar's afternoon skies, Brown Raplath managed to be
the steadfast knight that Lyssath was looking for. Congratulations to D'aad and Brown
Raplath (NPC'ed by Dallaney) and many, many thanks to K'no and Chesketh , K'ren and
Pyranth, Betha and Remorth, and to Bronze Kalith (NPC'ed by Kayrelen )! And optional
sorrows, to Raplath and D'aad who will now be the new "flower-fetchers".
Aliea and Lyssath -- The Flower Power Duo
--------------------------