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.
You lead D'aad toward the Main Living Cavern.
Main Living Cavern
The careless glitter of rose quartz reflects and refracts the light from within its bed of
granite, each beam bringing a new shifting, a new subtlty of sight. Rows of long trestle
table are seated in orderly awareness under the carven vault of the ceiling, centered
around a great dais upon which sits the best-made one; this, too, shows the roughness of
the others, but a roughness smoothed by time, and accented by the complexity of beams that
show Turns-taken tesselation in their upward arch. Neither tapestries nor
coverings mar the marbling of wild beauty, leaving unadorned grandeur that in naturalistic
simplicity provides comfort to the occupants of the cavern.
One archway, the only covered by a drape of black and gold, shields the entrance to the
bowl from the blow of sand; another, almost unobtrusive, marks the entrance to the lower
caverns through a short, winding and uncarefully-carved tunnel.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Pedro, Stub, Zippo, Boebabe, Akio, and Kamas.
You see Sarilee here.
G'tar, K'no, Cylara, Siobhan, G'min, and K'den are here.
From here you can go:
Bowl Lower Caverns Infirmary
D'aad has arrived.
You lead D'aad from the Lower Caverns.
Siobhan unwraps her sari shawl from her shoulders. "Is it hot in here, or is it just
me?" she says sweetly, flush deepening to a rose matching the flowers on the sisal
cloth. She fans herself indolently, loath to move from her perch. "Play me something
about love, will you G'tar?" She favours the bronzerider with a singularly brilliant
smile.
G'min reaches up to scratch his head, wondering how much time until Sayurith becomes more
than Siobhan can bear. He's got to get her to the Ground Weyrs. He has a mission. And so
he's trying to focus /away/ from Eratoth's thoughts about how wonderful Sayurith looks.
Dallaney shuttles in at 'lizard speed, munching on a meatroll while dogging her parent's
steps. The latter arrows a glance to the kidling then heads straight to their wingrider's
table, with the greediness of their brethren. D'aad drops various greetings, and
sinks down for a meal.
G'tar begins to sing the Ballad of Moreta with a strong, pure baritone, his resounding
tone echoing from the concavity of the ceiling, filling the large room. Louder and softer
as the music requires, sad and happy where it insists, he tells the tale of her ride until
he stops full and sings the last verse a 'capella save the flute, a soft, sorrowful
ballad, and then ends with a flutter of fingers to garnish, head bowed.
(Raplath) Feeding Grounds
(Raplath)
(Raplath) Blood of the weyr's food supply --for beast and human-- spots the
thirsty ground, marks the gory passing of herdbeasts and wherries lost to the
voracity of feasting dragons. Patches of ripped greenery attest to the
struggles that rile within while the odd bone scattered about bleaches under
the hot Igen sun. The rail's smoothly worn horizontals betray turns of
tight-fisted visitors, rider and resident, their nauseous swirl of grain amid
the carnage before them stayed only by wood's timely stability and rigid
pastoralness.
(Raplath)
(Raplath) The following dragons are here: Ankhoth, Tyranoth, Ysaeth, Cath,
Sayurith, Aeoliath, Eratoth, and Chesketh
Kaze has arrived.
Cylara drops Kaze.
Astrea glides with lithe grace in from NorthWest Bowl.
Kaze flitters toward NorthWest Bowl.
K'no blinks and looks at G'tar. "That's going to change the music, isn't it?"
K'no eeps, realizing he missed his opening and stares at the flute, then snaps his
fingers. "Ah well. Sounded just fine without me, Right?" He laughs softly and
stands up, cradleing the flute as he spots another drudge. "Ah hah. Finally can get
something to drink. Yes, a wine. Benden white. Not to strong, please." He ushers the
drudge off.
(Raplath) Aeoliath dozes off...
G'tar has disconnected.
(Raplath) Kaze flitters in from Southwestern Bowl.
(Raplath) Kohath has arrived.
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, 5 Months, and 21 Days old.
Astrea? An innocent bystander, though she spares a moment of appreciation for such a fine
congregation of manflesh. Never does she give a thought to why they all have gathered.
D'aad wipes a quick hand across his hairline, damping umber-dark, fine-wired hair back
into its usual parting. From his table, he swivels backwards, raising his glass to the
music, though he does offer too: "Get a harper, they play better!" Cider backlit
by the glows into liquid fire, he goes on to toast the females -- Siobhan, and Astrea
even.
(Raplath) Kaze goes ::between::
Kaze pops in from ::between::
(Raplath) Sayurith stirs, gently twitching her tail as she sleeps, though she appears to
be rousing.
K'den keeps a cautious eye on Siobhan, from as far across the room as possible as he picks
out several sandwich-sized pieces of leftover herdbeast and stuffs them into Artur's
mouth. Wine? That's probably the last thing he needs right now. "Erm... maybe I'll
just... eat lunch back in my weyr today, you know, I have some hides I need to study up
on, and..." excuses.
(Raplath) Eratoth croons softly, singing a gentle song to the golden sleeper, his throat
vibrating alluringly, perfect in pitch and tone.
Kentelth flitters toward NorthWest Bowl.
(Raplath) Kentelth flitters in from Southwestern Bowl.
(Raplath) Kohath cranes his neck and simply stares at the young queen with open, frank
expectancy, keeping his tactless wooing to himself for now.
(Raplath) Chesketh swoops in gently, newly washed hide
gleaming in the light. The brown dragon lands with an easy thump. He folds his wings back
and looks at all the other dragons and shies back a bit.
(Raplath) Tyranoth closes one eye, then the next, reluctant to doze off when he could be
exploring.
(Raplath) Kentelth rumbles as he floats down toward the ground and watches it all, eyes
flicking everywhere, and taking in all.
Siobhan slips off the table suddenly, eyes aglow.
"Dance with me, K'den," she calls to the brownrider, holding out her arms to
him. Then, suddenly, she stops and blinks, eyes unfocussing sharply.
Lexiana walks in from Lower Caverns.
(Raplath) Raplath is the big, heavy brown at the side, light tremors shimmering through
his hide and ending to twitch at tail-tip. He hunkers, wings cloaking his form, eyes
densely lidded in the uncomplicated midday doze.
K'no smiles at the drudge and takes the glass. He peers at it a moment. "Wine is
something delicate and something to be savored. It washes away worries. Sip it slow, and
I't will make you feel happy. Sip it fast and.." K'no downs the wine, two gulps and
licks his lips. "You loose most resonable thoughts." He laughs and sits back
down, looking over at Siobhan curiously. "Huh..." The rider ponders a moment and
starts piping on his flute, softly.
(Raplath) Sayurith's eyes snap open, and the gold one growls at finding herself in the
company of so many males - so many males, when she hasn't had nearly enough time to pull
herself together! Wedge-shaped head tilts subtly, whirling red-tinged eyes sizing up the
crowd before she arches her neck and stretches, glorying in her own strength, her own
independence. Tongue licks at her muzzle, as she considers the others carefully.
Siobhan strides purposefully toward NorthWest Bowl.
K'no walks toward NorthWest Bowl.
G'min can do naught but follow the goldrider.
G'min strides toward NorthWest Bowl.
K'den walks toward NorthWest Bowl.
(Raplath) Eratoth croons softly, lowly, seductively at the gold, his tenor echoing
slightly in the bowl of the weyr. He tilts his head, letting the light play off his
perfect hide, and perfect features.
D'aad, slow to realise, slow to heed, carries his goblet with him as the others stride
out. "Going, and gone," he laughs; taken; muddied.
Astrea petulantly props her hands on her hips as all the men leave. "What's going
/on/ here?"
(D'aad) Sayurith's Weyr
(D'aad)
(D'aad) A treasure trove of semi-precious minerals are both the decorations and the
furnishings for this luminous weyr which echoes quietly with the burble of water from
somewhere deep inside. Veins of brown-flecked red jasper, bright moonstone, deep amethyst,
and even alexandrite start near the entrance and race towards the back before separating
and easing down the sides of the weyr, each to its own indisputable section. Moonstone
envelops the rather large main cavern which branches off into several alcoves.
Delicate etchings of geometric design give personality to the concave ceiling, curving
into calm white walls marred only by a torn tapestry barely hanging from one of four
stakes. Unfortunately, a prankster's trick has marred the beauty of the design of the
moonstone hearth with broad strokes of soot and accompanying handprints, and even the
perpetrator's name, childishly carved into a corner of the marble mantle, proclaims that,
"Felnarin was here."
(D'aad) Alexandrite, the weyr's true glory, overtakes the entire back wall --true to its
nature, the stone deepens its green color in sun's light, only to slowly fade to a light
red during the night until the next sunrise. The wide area here is bare of all
furnishings, unless one counts the piecemeal remains of an old bed, at least half of which
seems to have been used as kindling, and a cozy sunken pool in the farthest corner which
bubbles softly
at its steamy center."
(D'aad) Amethyst's alcove, to the left, has escaped the wrath of adolescence, if not the
wrath of time. Dust and debris has found its way into the corners and around the
stone-carved benches and shelves which poke out of walls around a huge marble slab table.
The seats, slightly depressed, and carefully smoothed, still require pillows or furs to
cushion human bodies from otherwise hard stone, however, as evidenced by the wispy remains
of an old pillow which still lies in the fourth seat. The shelves hold the remnants
of old bottles holding some sort of liquid, each appearing the same --stains flow from the
wake of three of them, deep ochre, jasmine and faded scarlet, right into an old tool box
full of leather and other abandoned tanner treasures, nearly hidden by the shadows and
debris of time.
(D'aad) To the right, Jasper's section provides a comfortable, if a trifle irregular,
dragon's wallow. The blackish green stone, carefully smoothed into a gently-sloped ledge,
invites dragon to rest her head, while a limestone stalagmite close to the end is perfect
for curling her tail around. Though the odiferous rotting rushes in the shallows and
around the edges of the couch deface the masterly beauty of the carefully-tooled raised
white inlay that rims the cup of this dragon's lair, a good cleaning would reveal it the most
carefully-planned and richly-decorated couch of all Igen Weyr's queen's quarters.
(D'aad)
(D'aad) Perched somewhere up high, you see Tribble.
(D'aad) Siobhan, K'den, G'min, and K'no are here.
(D'aad) From here you can go:
(D'aad) Ledge Secret Bath
Dallaney shrugs as she scratches at a scrap of hide. These things happen.
(D'aad) Cylara has arrived.
Astrea shrinks into her eyes, two slate blue orbs hovering on the air. Then they vanish.
(Raplath) Sayurith swiftly leaps from her repose in one breathtaking motion. Her dainty
paws extend to rake over the unsuspecting flank of a herdbeast, neatly breaking its' neck
with the other paw, then disembowelling it. Her muzzle hovers disobediently over the
entrails, then, screaming her protest, she fastens her jaws on the throat, sucking
greedily.
(D'aad) Siobhan's eyes flutter closed as she attempts to maintain contact with her
lifemate, one hand describing a motion that echoes that on the feeding grounds. She gasps,
then concentrates, and is rewarded by a distant scream of protest before the gold one
obeys.
(Raplath) Eratoth, seeing that the gold has chosen her first victim, leaps lightly into
the air, choosing his own, his great perfect white teeth fastening on it's neck, greedily
draining it's blood, both eyes focused on the glowing queen.
(Raplath) Chesketh warbles in supris and looks down at his
chest, then reasons with himself, and his talons flash out, slaying a nearby herdbeast,
and he catches the creature's neck in his jaws and slurps greedily from the incision. He
sucks the last bit of the hot liquid from the beast and slits it's stomach and lets the
corpse drop. His head swings about to face another potential prey. Hello. Goodbye. Another
herdbeast meets it's demise and has it's blood sucked from it's throat.
(D'aad) G'min just focuses on Siobhan, ignoring the other riders present, his eyes hungry,
his demeanor, however, tentative. It's her queen's first flight. He's willing to use
restraint.
(D'aad) K'no winces and sits down, flute all but droped from his hands. "I'll never
get used to that" he mutters. K'no lays the flute down in his lap and puts his elbows
on his knees and his chin on his hands. He looks up at Siobhan weakly, trying to block out
the gruesome images and the other riders.
(Raplath) Raplath awakes, alerts in one swift, jaw lolling moment. Tongue reaches out to
caress his jaw, and he - too - leaps, dispatching his first and by no means last with one
sparring lunge. Quick, simple and easy; the creature yet spurts its crimson juices towards
his inviting mouth. Yes, the meal's begotten, and his head whips back, to the queen, to
further prey.
(Raplath) Sayurith drains her victim, elegantly cleaning her muzzle for a brief second
before despatching a second herdbeast with a single stroke. This time, there is no scream
of protest, no disobedience; it seems that the queenling has acquired a taste for blood.
Before too long, she is onto her third victim, oblivious to the males feasting around her,
and aware only of the throbbing beat of instinct.
(D'aad) D'aad stretches his legs in a brief, wary circling of the weyr's entrance, staying
back from the lady in their midst. The glass in one hand rises to trace his lips; tips in
a fell sweep as eyes blaze darkly above his sharpened chin, and he drinks deeply, nearly
till empty. Support -- he grasps for the gem-encrusted wall.
(D'aad) Siobhan groans, settling herself onto a heap of cushions yet to be distributed
throughout the weyr. Eyes remain closed, mind elsewhere.
(Raplath) Chesketh hisses as the last of his current herdbeast's blood is siphoned out of
its body. HE tosses the corpse away and whirls about, spotting an unwary wherry. Chesketh
slinks up behind it and pounces on it. The avian screeches madly, but is wuickly silenced
by a talon cutting it's throat and the brown's maw clamping down on the opening and
sucking the blood out hungerily.
(Raplath) Raplath turns back for his second herdbeast, long staked out and hunted for.
Splaying claws wide over the ill-fated hide, he rakes hair for a heartbeat before he
reaches the prime stock. Twanging seemingly light on that life-giving artery, he dips over
it. Drinks, then rears back, 'lids unravelling fully to better gaze at his rivals. Larger,
more powerful rivals. As for the crumpled critter, he tramples it underfoot.
(Raplath) Eratoth takes one heardbeast for each of the golden queens, making her for
stroke and form. Graceful? Yes, as he lifts his neck from the third bloodless body licking
his lips as quickly whirling eyes glow with the violet of lust.
(D'aad) Another shiver runs down the brownriders spine and he closes his eyes tightly.
K'no takes a long, deep breath and unfastens a few of the clasps on his jacket, trying to
get some cool air onto his chest. The heat is always unbearable, and this flight is no
exception. He slowly opens his eyes and gazes at Siobhan again.
(Raplath) Sayurith pauses from her vampiric forays to lick her muzzle again, seeming to
pulse like a sunburst before she is suddenly airbourne, the glory of the flight making her
the centre of attention and the demure maiko gone, all gone - to be replaced by the sheer
feminine beauty of the full-fledged geisha she has become.
(Raplath) Sayurith flies toward Sky Above the Feeding Grounds.
(D'aad) D'aad shuts his eyes, its so much easier to do so. He leans back, propping up
against the wall, tilted hearth-wards through mere instinct. Momentum though, carries him
onwards in that same pacing trajectory, and he stumbles, then reclines again.
(Raplath) Eratoth glides with perfect grace toward Sky Above the Feeding Grounds.
(Raplath) Chesketh flies toward Sky Above the Feeding Grounds.
(Raplath) Sky Above the Feeding Grounds
(Raplath)
(Raplath) Unruly winds circulate aloft the equivalently unyielding ground below, the scent
of freshly blooded herdbeast and wherry potent within the air's irregular currents. Wind-
and dragon-scoured ledges dwell upon jagged intervals, providing a common perch for the
hunting dragons as well. Nearby, volcano's distinct formation gives way to the
over-powering presence of the lake, it's crystal-clear luminescence luring from even this
distance.
(Raplath)
(Raplath) Type 'ledges' to see a list of connected weyrs.
(Raplath) The following dragons are here: Sayurith, Eratoth, and Chesketh
(Raplath) Eratoth is up and after Sayurith in the very next instant, leaping into the sky
like the samurai mounted on his powerful steed, only, Eratoth is warrior and steed all in
one, moving with perfect grace and fluidity through the sky that is his firmament,
charging after the fleeing geisha, for she is a prize worth the winning.
(Raplath) Chesketh sucks the last of the blood from the wherrie's throat and lets the
corpse drop. He stares at it a moment longer, then his head jerks up as he notices the
gold's launch. He coils up his legs and then lets them spring out, launching him in the
air as gracefully as a slice from a katana, wings snapping into place and catching an
updraft. He takes advantage of his smaller body and speeds up after the gold, eyes red as
a rising sun, and the brown hide resembling leather armor.
(Raplath) Raplath takes up where Sayurith left off -- in that perfect dance of the geisha
queen. Looping his tail, he aims high and gliding in an arching thermal that might
possibly bring him into her path eventually. No mere spectator, he rises along with the
waning evening, a dim wraith terribly small, yet dipped sienna by the final rays of Igen.
The dried beasts he leaves behind, the future he pursues, wings outstretched.
(Raplath) Sayurith's wings dazzle, twin sails bursting upon the reddening skies like a new
sun, beating incessantly as the lithe geisha queen strives for the very vault of the
heavens. Coyly, she snakes her head under one wing, taunting her suitors with raucous
mocking tones as she crows her superiority to the weyr, to the heavens, to the very stars
in the firmament; her voice proclaiming her story with more passion than ever before
witnessed, with more fervour than the most ardent of lovers, only wingspans before her
followers.
(Raplath) Eratoth starts to drop back. Not because he can't handle the speed, rather, as
his eyes narrow, calculating. She is a prize worth the winning, something any warrior of
Honor would desire. But she is no easy prize, and the wise warrior is the one who will
catch the prize. Eratoth croons lowly, a sultry song of love.
(Raplath) Chesketh trumpets his arrival, be it royal or not. The honorable brown dragon
flaps his wings once more as he catches and rides an updraft. His tail lashes about behind
him like a banner caught in the wind and his legs tuck up inder him, talons sparkling in
the light like ebony wakizshi's, sharp points gleaming. His eyes roil in turmoil of
colors, Orange battling red for dominance, yet they are both focused on a common goal, the
golden
geisha.
(Raplath) From Sky Above Southwest Bowl, Saguaro has arrived.
(Raplath) Saguaro has arrived.
(Raplath) Raplath chases the trail of the teaser indeed, gliding further and ahead of his
erstwhile rivals while he still can. Wingtips brushing thermals, he pierces the looming
skies, looking to be more than a follower and the brown outsider in the crowd. A
trombone's rumble emitted, he shoots higher up even as a blue falls beside and behind him.
(Raplath) Sayurith twists elegantly in the air, her geisha's dance taking her weaving
amongst the remainder of her guests, a shooting star brilliant yet aloof, daring yet
darling. She plunges towards the weyr, then, catching a thermal, is off in a completely
new direction with only a flip of her tail to guide her followers along her path.
(Raplath) Chesketh rumbles, curving down and after the gold, cutting through the air, fast
as an arrow. He's got energy to spare. He curves up, trying to catch the same updraft, but
misses. Instead, he tilts to the side and pumps his wings again, catching a different
thermal and takes off after the teasing geisha, wings folded back to gain more speed. In
his eyes, orange is gaining dominance over red as the battle speeds up and his eyes whirl
faster.
(Raplath) Raplath's smaller bulk brings him an advantage for once as he writhes 'sails in
a turn that blazes his trailing coat-tails above him, a sabled mirror of the geisha's
gyrations. He strives only to follow, and at the cornerlines too till she deigns fit --
knife-edged ridges gleam, intelligence shoved deep and away to culminate in a vague
glimmer in widened sockets, putting his all into the struggle and boosted by mad-driven strength.
(Raplath) Eratoth watches, flying straight, not given to dances yet, instead watching,
biding his time, his great wings creaking with the speed and power of his efforts, perfect
bronzen form rippling in the light. He will catch her, for he is the most honourable of
all warriors, the brightest and best of them all. (At least...in his own mind.)
(Raplath) Sayurith tires of her teasing ways, once again snaking her long neck under a
still-pulsing wing to see if any still brave the geisha's flirtatiousness. A dip and she
reverses course again, this time slightly slower, her burnished gold hide glimmering in
the last rays of Rukbat with the last of her flight opalesence.
(Raplath) From Sky Above the Weyr Entrance, Claudio dozes off...
(Raplath) Now! Now! Now is the time, as the power and energy he'd been saving surging to
the fore, his arms extending, as he arrows after her, luke the surest shot of some noble
warrior, his eyes burning violet flame, a shimmering bronze streak in the sky. To catch
that gem, that beautiful geisha and make her his own, that would indeed be a battle, and a
dance, worth the winning. [Eratoth]
(Raplath) Saguaro dozes off...
(Raplath) Chesketh warbles and forgets to stop as he passes the gold when she turns. He
pivots in midair to follow the geisha's retreat and folds back his copper-toned wings,
orange eys focusing on the flirting geisha. The shogun of a dragon streaks after the
glimmering gold, banner-like tail sashaying side to side, caught int the draft that the
scale-armored body leaves. Chesketh emits a glorious trumpet again, and dives at the gold
one last time.
(D'aad) Siobhan holds her breath, every part of her attuned to the potential of the moment
high in the skies above. Her eyes snap open, burnished gold fires burning deep within as
Sayurith's flight winds to an inevitable closure.
(Raplath) Raplath never admits weariness but does, eventually. Sensing the dancer slowing,
he instead puts on a burst of speed, blasting hot air away from inevitably jittering
wings. Folding the cumbrous cloak to himself, he spurts forward on a diver's course,
gravitating towards a spot below her from sheer momentum. On the verge of dropping
stone-tired, he tucks himself together -- and faintly reaches.
(D'aad) D'aad sags; his feet aren't holding him up by much, and he crouches near the
entrance, swaying in his boots.
(D'aad) G'min just stares at Saab hungrily, his eyes alight with the flame that fuels his
lifemate.
(D'aad) K'no's hand drops and clutches his flute, his katana, his pride and joy. Blue eyes
shut once again and he bites his lower lip tightly, his mind not here, but in the mind of
his dragon, taking every dip and turn with him.
(Raplath) Sayurith glances over her shoulder one last time, neglecting to account for
attacks from above, keeping Chesketh and Raplath in her sights. Suddenly a force greater
than she transforms her forward momentum into a passionate spiral she cannot escape - and
she struggles but once and then surrenders herself to the bronze warrior who has captured
her attentions, the distant bells chiming in accord as she twines necks with him. <<
Eratoth. >>
(Raplath) Eratoth croons softly, no longer fighting as he twins necks with the golden
geisha, his wings and body infolding hers. <<My Sayurith.>>
(Raplath) Chesketh croons, This shogun has decended from his thrown, overthrown by a
ninja. The brown blinks ::Between::
(Raplath) Chesketh goes ::between::
(D'aad) D'aad cradles glass to chest, and bolts, the long-unuttered groan ripped from his
lips, "Sharding --Raplath!"
(D'aad) Sayurith's Ledge
(D'aad)
(D'aad) From here you can go:
(D'aad) Queen's Ledge Weyr
(D'aad) Viewing Ledge Up
(D'aad) K'no has arrived.
(D'aad) K'no walks toward Queens' Ledge.
(Raplath) Raplath completes his dive, and goes for his poor rider. He's obedient too,
sometimes.
(Raplath) Feeding Grounds
(Raplath)
(Raplath) Blood of the weyr's food supply --for beast and human-- spots the thirsty
ground, marks the gory passing of herdbeasts and wherries lost to the voracity of feasting
dragons. Patches of ripped greenery attest to the struggles that rile within while the odd
bone scattered about bleaches under the hot Igen sun. The rail's smoothly worn horizontals
betray turns of tight-fisted visitors, rider and resident, their nauseous swirl of grain
amid the carnage before them stayed only by wood's timely stability and rigid
pastoralness.
(Raplath)
(Raplath) The following dragons are here: Ankhoth, Tyranoth, Ysaeth, Cath, Aeoliath, and
Kohath
Message 37 of 37 on *Announcements (#697):
Date: Sat Apr 1 20:58:54 2000 MST
From: Siobhan (#8275)
To: *IgenWeyr (#5328), *Gossip (#165), and *Announcements (#697)
Subject: Sayurith's Flight
After driving her lifemate to distraction with proddiness for a sevenday, the lovely
geisha Sayurith finally took to the skies on her maiden voyage. In hot pursuit were
G'min's bronze Eratoth, G'tar's bronze Aeoliath, K'no's brown Chesketh, K'den's brown
Kohath, Sh'lor's bronze Sanath, S'dal's bronze Kentelth (NPCd by Cylara), and D'aad's
brown Raplath (NPCd by Dallaney). The queen took them high above Igen Weyr, and on a merry
dance, forcing out Aeoliath, Kentelth, Kohath and Sanath before whisking the rest on a
chase that ended with her catch by bronze Eratoth.
Thanks so much to all who participated and made Sayurith's
maiden flight so absolutely wonderful - I wish you all could have caught! Just a reminder
to everyone: this clutch will be NPC.
~o~ Siobhan & Sayurith ~o~
<< Mmmmm, yesssss... >>
--------------------------