The following is a log of roleplay on Star Stones MOO, logged by D'ney.
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.
Weyrling Pool
Gradually going from shallow to deeper, this secluded pool has been
specifically set apart for use by the Weyrlings during their isolation. The
water almost seems to be a near-perfect temperature: cool in the hottest part
of day and room-temperature during the cooler nights.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Mik, Rock, Zippo, and Fredo.
Betha, Mink, and Lina are here.
The following dragons are here: Olexath, Remorth, and Caedmith
From here you can go:
Barracks
"Well, Mink since you asked....You never know. Dragons mate...male to
female...Every colour to greens and only brown and bronze to gold...Of course
that could lead to oooooh, odd situations. You could, well get caught up in
your dragon's throws and very well end up with somebody you might not have
feelings for or think odd about..such as woman to woman...or man to man. If
you're holdbred....well...it'll be something."
"/I/'m Holdbred!" Mink wails. "And I have never had sex with anyone, man OR
woman. When am I going to have to have sex?" Clearly, this is all news to
her, and not very welcome news, at that.
Olexath wakes up from his nap.
Lina looks towards Betha. "You got to be kidding me." It's simple, it's clear,
and it such should be heard. "I don't think I'd really enjoy that."
Halis has arrived.
D'ney splashes into the crowded pool, her ruddy comrade steps behind.
Nhaeth-steps, that is, which include a tense episode of the brown nearly
stepping on his own swishing tail. But he plunges into the water soon
enough, sending up grateful looks, and the harried lifemate sets to scrubbing
-- not forgetting a smart salute for the known trio.
D'ney
Short, slightly gaunt around the edges, this adolescent bears Igen's glare in
the burnt brownness of her skin. Uncertain growth has worked away the
childish plumpness from the avid angles of nose and chin, further accenting
pinched features with their harsh planes and abrupt peaks. Below forehead's
darkness, a primal acidity informs her hazel eyes, restrained by stubborn
mahogany curls -- but flaring inevitably into the compact rebellion of a
muscled shape and habitually agile motion.
A golden-yellow linen tunic drapes from her shoulders, straggling under a
thick jet belt at the waist and falling nearly to her hips. The trousers of
black linen are similarly buckled in to keep the outfit snug against the
hazards of adolescent frolic, its hems disppearing into a pair of
extra-polished wherhide boots.
Double cords of maize and jet intertwine in a single, simple loop, wrapped
with a brown sisal ribbon, to denote her rank as an Igen Weyr Junior
Weyrling, rider of Nhaeth.
She is awake and looks alert.
Carrying:
Rip
A sense of reflected smugness twangs off her.
[15 Turns, 7 Months, and 10 Days]
Inky dollops of dusty rose salmon coalesce the creases of his vast expanse of
seasoned black cherry hide, cluttering into gangly extremities seeped in
sepia before vanishing beneath a facade of dusky darkness. Sleek sheets of
lengthy mocha-washed wings drizzled with an ethereal edge of frosty pink
coral veins engulf him, cluttering the smooth, rounded ridges that bud from
his elongated neck and rosewood headknobs, leaving only a whim of the large,
expressive eyes that light his nervous triangular head. Hints of deep well
metallicy limn his soot-smudged physique, creating golden glimpses that
overshadow the disproportions and discrepancies and glitter the lengthy
starscape frame from rich hazelnut tail to clever ebon talons with heroic
motes of succulent, suffering incandescence.
Nhaeth is 8 Months and 27 Days old.
Betha ponders for a moment, "Oh, don't worry about it, any of you...we'll talk
about that for the mating lesson...But now you've something to think about.
Oh, I'm almost done with the lesson. A couple of items I've missed. Eye
ridges, headknobs and of course eye lids. Since dragons don't have eye
lashes they have three sets of lids, the first one is clear enough for them
to see through, the second a little thicker and the third as you can see most
noticeable is when they are sleeping. Each has a particular function.
Swimming, stuff like that. The headknobs, aid in hearing and are pretty
sensative. When a dragon offers it's eye ridges to be scritched it is a sign
of trust." Then she goes to answer Lina, "No, not kidding Linna. Never know
until you try..." The blue rider winks. "Now, enough of that that's another
lesson. Now, anybody have any questions on wings, tail, eyes, ears, nose,
mouth, tummy...oh that reminds me...tummy is very ticklish on some
dragons...wash with great care."
Lina grins, looking towards Betha. "Oh, okay. Well." It dims though, and
everything turns back to normal. "Still, are we always going to feel like our
dragons?" It's a weird, intensive - kind of question.
Mink still isn't quite comfortable with knowing that she's going to have to
worry about it later, but she forces the thoughts to the back of her mind and
concentrates on washing her dragon, a task done all the quicker with Mik and
Dexter's help. "Nope, no questions here, except Caedmith wants to know if,
since he got in the water, will he really get to fly now?"
D'ney brandishes the brush with gusto, even though she's doing Nhaeth's
stomach at the moment and half-heard words refer to it. The brown squirms, a
period of heated assurances follow, and Dallan sighs, not unhappily. She
goes on to straighten the crumpled wingsails, scrambling from side to side in
the resulting murk.
"Mmmm, sometimes...most noticebly during mating flights. Other times you
might feel hungry, angry, or something else...but you're not quite sure where
it's coming from. Well with the exception of gold riders...that's
different...Stay away from them as much as you can." She shifts her
attention to Mink, "Yes, we'll have a quick lesson on Firestone stuff then a
quick lesson on ground flying stuff then zooom, off to the skys for them on
their first flight..." Betha looks to Remorth <Poor weyrlings, as holders
they think you're all cute and cudley grand to fly..but nobody ever bothers
to tell them...hey, as a rider of a male dragon you could get more action in
a month than you ever could as a holder...or as a rider of a female dragon
you'll be so sore, and not from going from between that she'll be up to her
ears in babies in no time.> Remorth resplies <Yep, yep, yep, yep.> Betha
looks around, "No more questions?"
Lina is done. Perhaps. "Uh. Yeah, I guess." Gee, that's interesting. "So, I
can ovine-out whenever I have a flight?" Keeeeewl!
Halis comes wandering out, oil in one hand and well .. nothing in the other.
She's looking for Lexie of course. He's in need of an oiling or so he's
said. She blinks ever so slightly when she spots the crowd. More blinking
to soon follow when she spots Betha. Blue rider gets a salute as Halis
passes by rather quickly over to Olexath who's snoozing off on the other side
of the pool.
S'olan has arrived.
Laenaoth has arrived.
Betha smiles, "You may Lina, but you've got to keep your green from doing
that. Not very challenging to catch a dragon that's wanting to take a nap.
Now, we'll save all this stuff about mating for later. Just remember, boy
dragons chase girl dragons...The riders will have to work the mechanations
between themselves." She spots Halis and returns the salute,
"Alright...everybody, outside."
Caedmith stands absolutely still in the water, his hide quivering each time
water flows across it. It's clear that he is only interested in flying, and
not at all in the bathing. He senses that Mink is full of disturning thoughts
and puzzling emotions, so he decides that he will help her. Dropping his
neck, he submerges his head, first lids shielding against the water, yet
still allowing the soft blue light of his eyes to shine through. Silently, he
submarines through the water, only to erupt in a blowing, bugling mass at
Mink's feet! Shocked, Mink utters a short scream that transumtes itself into
laughter. "Oh, Caedmith!" She flings her arms about the brown's neck,
shutting out that remorseless 'boy dragons chase girl dragons' repitition...
up to a point.
Nhaeth raises those dripping wings of his above water-level and crooks them
experimentally, slicing each through the buoyant liquid. "Now I've told you
again and again. You have to--" D'ney stops her lecture to glance
backwards, at the departing instructress and the other weyrlings. "What's
up?" Someone didn't read the schedule properly.
Lina looks towards Circeoth, "Oh girl, promise me you'll never act weird."
That's vague. Circeoth makes a dragonic-shrug look towards Aline. >>Okay.
Whatever.<< Oh. Childish notions. "Uh, good." Looking towards Betha.
"How do
you stop them though? It's...It seems impossible!"
Betha waves a hand, "Go, out...outside...last one outside gets to muck out the
couch of the first person outside...go."
Laenaoth sluices silent and serpentine through the water, finally pulling
himself out with a shift of wings that sends water droplets spraying
everywhere. He snakes his neck out, glancing in question to S'olan, who
shrugs and follow's Betha's instructions to head outside. "I don't know,
love," S'olan says, "but we can hope."
Mink strolls, hips gently swaying, toward Weyrling Barracks.
S'olan lopes coltishly toward Weyrling Barracks.
Caedmith saunters in that don't-I-own-the-place manner toward Weyrling
Barracks.
Laenaoth waddles toward Weyrling Barracks.
Halis convinces Olexath to wake up with a little toe prodding and grumbling
from both. And out they go, not bothering to say anything to anyone just
yet. She idily wonders how much attention she'll have to pay to the first
part of the lesson since it's stuff she had at the last one she went to.
Olexath rumbles and looks rather happy since he's looking forwards to the
second part of the lesson.
Halis walks toward Weyrling Barracks.
Olexath waddles toward Weyrling Barracks.
Betha walks along side Remorth, neck outstreached, head held regally high and
tail trailing along swishing about as they walk towards the Weyrling Barracks.
Betha walks toward Weyrling Barracks.
Oh, well. "It's possible," D'ney mutters, and shoves on Nhaeth's wing.
Outside.
Nhaeth slinks in from Weyrling Pool.
Weyrling Grounds
When in use by a class of Weyrlings, the Weyrlings' training ground area is
often busy with Weyrling pairs employed in practice drills or relaxing. The
air space overhead can be a danger zone to those not used to the antics that
young pairs tend to engage in, often seeming crowded as young dragonets test
their wings. The ground area seems spacious, never being quite as cramped as
the area overhead. Well-worn paths in the packed sand show the take-offs and
landings that many Turns have dug. The southeast section of the bowl is
northwest from here and in the southeastern direction is where the Weyrling
pairs call 'home'.
Perched somewhere up high, you see Satler.
Mink, S'olan, Betha, and Halis are here.
The following dragons are here: Muppeth, Sanath, Kezasuth, Murath, Aidubaith,
Circeoth, Laenaoth, Caedmith, Remorth, and Olexath
From here you can go:
Lake
Weyrling Barracks
The current weather report:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IgenW: Center Bowl Area (#5491)
It is a bright, cheery day. Belior is slightly more than a quarter full and
Timor is slightly more than three-quarters dark. It is a winter early
morning.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nhaeth has arrived.
Betha smiles, "Be right back...I have to check something."
Betha walks toward Weyrling Barracks.
Betha has arrived.
Betha smiles, "Alrighty...two thi..err three things...who was first, who was
last...and do we have any miners here?"
Halis wasn't first, wasn't last, and isn't a miner so her mouth stays shut as
she scritches at Olexath.
Mink looks up, panting a bit from the dash. "Caedmith and I were here first,
followed by Solan, Halis and D'ney and their lifemates."
Nhaeth does the belly walk outside: that is, he creeps out, interspersed with
jerky hops of the hindquarters to keep up with the rest of him. D'ney
strides out, irritation capped over by faint amusement. "Yes, yes."
Promises, no doubt. They join the file of weyrlings, and she waves a hand in
the air, aimed at Betha. "Okay, we were last," she will admit that.
S'olan wasn't first, either, nor last, nor a miner, so he follows Halis'
example and keeps his mouth shut once he's assured himself that Laenaoth has
made his way safely outside without stepping on his slightly oversized wings.
Betha smiles, "Well then...Now we know who's going to be mucking who's couch
out for a couple of days..." She rubs her hands together then walks over to
Remorth. Today Remorth is styling a blue hide of dragon, about his neck is a
fine pair of fighting straps and tied to his side is a lively firestone sack
accessory...no dragon or dragon should be without one. "Ok, firestone, plain
and simple...If you take note of the colour that will denote it's purrity."
She holds up two samples she pulled out, "Good stuff, bad stuff." shifty them
back and forth, "Dragons have two stomachs..one for food, one for firestone.
Simple enough...Dragons chew firestone with their back teeth, carefull not to
bite their tongues, swallow...wait...and belch...flame. Get rid of the ash
in their stomachs...belch it up...it is not good for them to leave in there,
it will make them sick...After you have them belch it up, you clean it
up....I do not want to hear of holders getting bombarded by TWO things..one
Firestone mash and the other is dragon doo...you got it..."
Halis has a question and debates raising her hand to ask it ... instead she
simply clears her throat and steps forwards. Looking at Betha she asks,
"Excuse me, umm, Leigha said that all dragons but gold's had two stomachs.
I've heard both ways, that they do and they don't. Which is it?" Then she
steps back next to Olexath to continue with the scritches.
Caedmith has turned to three-quarters profile, arching his neck proudly and
idly vaning his wingsails high over his head, those seal-lined velvety
wingspars a sharp contrast to the golden glory of his 'sails, and causing the
fiery stripes across his chest to flex and flare. Mink raises her hand and
asks, "Is there a special place that we're supposed to have them put it then?"
D'ney trots over -- to lift a finger sail that was dragging on the ground --
before she turns to frown at Betha. She opens her mouth, then shuts it,
repeating the motion in an almost-comical reaction. But the smile tingling
at the ends of her lips wins the field and the youngster simply nods, both to
the bluerider and Halis. From the corners of her mouth, the mutter goes, "We
have to /muck/." Oh, that distasteful word that will occupy her for the
sevenday.
Betha glances over to Halis, "All dragons have two stomachs. And yes, since
golds do not chew firestone, they probably use it for something else...like
holding more food. And although a gold is much larger than the rest, they
certainly...but don't let 'em here you telling this to somebody...they come
from the same stock...dragons. And, as you've heard, all dragons have two
stomachs."
Halis nods, "So Leigha was wrong then?" It's not really a question. Halis
files away the information for no apparent reason. Then back to being quiet
she goes.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that...It would certainly seem silly for gold dragons to
be the only dragon not to have two stomachs. But then it's not like we can
find a dead one laying about and cut it open and check. And we've never
found a rider brave enough to let a gold swallow 'em.. O' course we could
find out one way or the other." Betha looks around, "Now, this next question
might seem a little silly...but who here has riding straps?"
Halis ahs and nods at Betha before answering the question, "I have the ones
you were having me make." Betha's answer to her question makes her come up
with another one but she doesn't ask it. Instead she quiets again and leans
against Olexath. Let everyone else talk now.
Mink looks up from her rapt adoration of how the sunlight caresses Caedmith's
neckridges, brow furrowed. "Well... does part of a set count? I've been
working on them, but he keeps outgrowing them." She shakes her head, and
looks askance to her brown. "Well, you /do/."
D'ney was listening with careless attention, one hand flung over the 'sail she
was scratching, so the question takes her by surprise. "Not prop--finished
ones," she shrugs. The materials are somewhere inside, but D'ney isn't a
good Weaver.
S'olan says, "I've part of a set," partially echoing Halis and Mink and
glancing at Laenaoth, eyebrows quirked in affectionate amusement. "But I've
had to change things so often, what with Lae growing, that it's hard to keep
up. It was almost done, and then he had another spurt, more than the growth
I'd figured for when I started making them."
Circeoth dozes off...
"Hmm, right...Ok...those aren't needed for the flight....A few more things
about firestone...It contains minerals in it that when mixed with dragon's
stomachs cause a reaction...and fwoosh you have flame." Oh, look, well don't
look, off to one side a stray beast has entered into the weyrling grounds.
Betha looks over to Mink, "Noooo, but don't worry, you'll all get yours done
in no time...or else you'll be doing a lot of walking around...in the
barracks. Ok...I think that's about it for firestone save for this little
demonstration. I'm going to feed Remorth these firestones and he's going to
flame for us." She gives Remorth the firestone who happily chews on it then
shakes his head for more and given thus. At that point he turns his
head...Oh my GAAAWWWWWD the humanity of it all!!! He flamed the BEAST!!!!!!
MOOOOOOOOMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Betha clasps her face, "Oh, by the first egg....That reminds me..." she turns
to look at all the weyrlings, "Look before you flame!!!!! That" and she
points at the flaming beast, "Could be your wingmate's dragon, a holder
anybody... Remorth...Bar-b-que sauce." Remorth puts the beast out and eats
it...MMMmmm well done..."Any questions?"
Halis blinks at the demonstration and shakes her head.
S'olan draws back very slightly in startlement at the demonstration -- or,
more specifically, the target of said demonstration -- and then shakes his
head. No questions here. Not at all.
Oh my. Blood and gore and whatever not. D'ney spears a grin through gleaming
eyes, obscurely pleased. "Can't flame in the wrong direction. Right," she
agrees, stepping sidewards. A paw in the right place can hurt. "So when do
the dragons get to use firestone?"
Betha eyes the weyrlings, "Well, that is another lesson. But, " ride walks
over to remorth and pulls out a couple of samples, one bad, one good.
"D'ney, you take this good sample and keep it with you at all times...When
you get the chance ask your fellow weyrlings if it is the good one or the bad
one. S'olan, you take this good bad sample and keep it with you at all
times, and do the same...then at some point when you think everybody knows
which one...switch then see if they still get it right. Now for the fun
stuff....flight. Is everybody ready? This is going to be the dragon's first
solo flight...Here are the ground rules...Take off, get a little altitude,
glide. Land...turn around...do the same thing to get back. Any dragons that
don't injure themselves in this lesson...I just might have a little more
sustained flight. Understand?"
Setebos wakes up from his nap.
Olexath perks up at the mention of flight. He's been trying his bestest to be
good and not try this before he was allowed to. He ruffles his wings ever so
slightly in silent answer to Betha's question if everyone understands. His
rider supresses a giggle and gently slaps the blue's hide, "Alright ya lug,
let's see how you do." Olexath gets ready to take off and then just stops as
he considers how to best do this, letting the others go first.
Betha eyes everybody, "Oh, forgot...Who's mucking for a sevenday?"
Nhaeth makes a soggy, sad noise, then is distracted by a stray vtol on his
shoulder. He swings to one side, effectively dislodging D'ney's arm; she
winces and trots away to get the sample. "Flight, Nhaeth," the weyrling
offers brightly once she gets back. "Remember the--" Maybe she'll just
ignore Betha's query and... Sigh. Swivel. "Here."
Mink looks hard at D'ney's firestone, imprinting the look of the rock into her
brain, even going so far as to touch the rock lightly with one finger and
sniff it. "Ewww. Stinks." She looks equally hard at S'olan's piece, then
turns back to Betha. She's the muckee, not the mucker. aedmith settles a bit
on his haunches and slowly begins to work his wings back and forth, warming
up the muscles.
S'olan takes the bad sample with a nod at Betha's instructions, and then looks
to Laenaoth. The bronze has perked up considerably at the instructions, and
cocks his head eagerly at his lifemate, who silently reiterates Betha's
instructions. Lae swivels his head in a silent gesture of annoyance, but
after a moment more of private communication sinks back a little in
acquiescence, and then works his wings in anticpation, the sails fluttering.
Betha smiles, "Good, Your Nhaeth gets to go first. Just have him stand over
there...take off glide, land and then come back. Rest of you, get lined up
behind Nhaeth, be careful, largest to smallest....Oh, D'ney...have your brown
land two dragonlengths, oh, dragon lengths are the distance of the particular
dragon you are talking about. So, D'ney, have your brown land three dragon
lengths to the left of the line...we don't want him crashing into everybody
and we all end up in the infirmary."
Yes, Betha changed her mind about the distance to land, it's three not two.
She got smart all of a sudden.
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Nhaeth trembles like an overheated kettle, wisps of
anticipation constantly seeping beneath the lid and darting into the air
above. A puff of steam fountains up suddenly, and then there's a wet plonk.
"Three dragonlengths," D'ney nods, patting Nhaeth's flank with some private
reiteration. As the other weyrlings form up, she walks with him to the
appropriate place. Nhaeth takes those first few hops in his stride,
hindquarters pumping him onwards strongly, his spindly wings unfurling to
their full length. He sweeps them downwards then, gaining some height as a
result, but gets confused afterwards; the air sees a flurry of quick
wingbeats, and he barely makes the three-dragonlength distance before he
glides to the ground, forepaws thumping hard into the dust.
(Nhaeth) [*] Remorth airs this bulletin ddit..ddit...dit dit dit <Warning
Warning Warning - weyrling dragons in the air...keep clear...NFO NFO WG>
Betha watches Nhaeth, "Hmmm, right..c...oooh, good landing...ok, have him come
on back...take him aside and then next weyrling up."
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Laenaoth :flares bright with anticipatory colors as he
prepares to take off, reds and golds and blues melding together with an
unvoiced but definite feeling of excitement that mingles with the mind-sound
of rushing wind.
D'ney has a pained expression on her face as she lopes over to check on her
dark 'mate. "--Isn't as easy as it looks," her scolding drifts. "C'mon, get
up." They hustle towards the corner, Nhaeth's fingersails dangling
lopsidedly on the sand.
Betha watches D'ney and Nhaeth, "Is he alright?"
Betha holds a hand up, "Hold up...let's get a little evaluation from D'ney and
Nhaeth...D'ney, if you would...please have your Nhaeth tell the other dragons
what it was like to fly."
Caedmith remains silent, keeping whatever random thoughts he may have to
himself; posed to show himself off to the best advantage, whirling blue eyes
watching his clutchsibling as he takes to the air, flies the required
distance, then returns. Statue-still, as if he can learn from the other, take
his knowlege into himself and, being himself, change and adapt it to /his/
needs. Only scent betrays the keyed-up suspense that infuses the brown:
curry's richness, cumin's bite both permeating the air about the middling
brown.
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Nhaeth didn't mean to do that. His deflated voice threads
through the clamour, a whine mingled with the tangy scent of Igen-dust. <<
It was just a bit hard. The wind would not carry me up properly. >> A
backlit scene of brown wings, juxtaposed with the vision of the sky he
glimpsed so briefly. << But it is exciting! Fun-- >>
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Caedmith listens, only the merest whisperings of zitherstrings
giving his presence away. Long and long the brown is silent, before, << Then
I shall have to try harder to go UP before I go OUT. >>
Nhaeth flips his wing up and his head down, hiding the latter behind the
former. His weyrling screws up her forehead, squinting at the sun. "No,
we're okay. He's just sore, I think." And half to herself, D'ney tacks on,
"It's harder to really fly then he thought it would be. I think he-- he
imagined something else." Beside her, a brown headknob dares to show itself.
Betha nods slowly, "Ok then, thank you D'ney...Nhaeth, that was very good.
Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it." She looks to the others, "Ok, who's
next?"
Laenaoth is ready, ready, ready to go. He can do this. He can do near about
anything, if S'olan is there behind him, after all. "We are," S'olan says,
and nods to Laenaoth. He takes a step forward, then lowers his hindquarters
slightly. Legs uncoil like springs into an awkward take-off, and he does the
midair equivalent of a stumble, wings beating unevenly as he seeks to
straighten out. "Yes, love," S'olan whispers. "Now glide...." And the
dragon does, wingbeats levelling out as dawnfire sails stretch to carry him
in a glide more elegant than his take-off, skittering into a landing two
lengths away, holding his wings carefully clear of feet and tail.
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth warbles softly <That was very good...not easy your first
try...I know. And tell your rider she'll not need to do any mucking for the
seven day. Just one day. Very good flying.>
Circeoth wakes up from her nap.
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth fell -- he notes in crestfallen voice: << It
seems simple. I see the thermals, but I cannot catch them. >> The shadow of
dreams looms again in his vision, and therefore yours by transferance. The
repeated motif is there, of beating wingspan, of flight that is as easy as
swimming is to him.
Betha watches Laenaoth, "Very good...have him come back...get settles in...and
the next can go."
D'ney watches Laenaoth from her corner, eyes widening and losing their former
crumple. "He's good," she declares, pummelling the brown's bent knee with a
light fist. "Watch and learn, don't just think." The whining is getting on
her nerves.
(Nhaeth) [-] Remorth <You will do well...do not worry.>
(Nhaeth) Remorth sees: Nhaeth is timidly peeved. << I b-believe I bent a
finger there but my 'mate does not think so. >> He pauses a moment, tugged
back by a certain force of will. The uttered words shrink as rapidly as he
does, crumpling into a sodden ball to be thrown away. << Uh. Never mind.
It is good that she does not have to muck. >>
Laenaoth adjust his takeoff, which is a bit better this time, though he still
has to work to get that first upward thrust. And then another sweeping
glide; the oversized wings that so plague his walking are a boon, not a
hindrance, when it comes to a glide. He sweeps into another skittery sliding
landing, lifting his head for a soft trumpet; even the comparatively
even-tempered Laenaoth has a bronze's pride. S'olan grins at his lifemate,
matching that pride with his own.
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Laenaoth :echos the trumpet with a mental whirl of bold, rich
colors as his mind-voice richens into brassy tones. << It is amazing! But
as Nhaeth said, hard to move up at first. But the wind... >> His mental
communication flushes with the sound and smell of the wind in one's face and
beneath one's wings. << It is exciting. >>
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Nhaeth breezes with that wind's very thrust and parry. <<
Yes, >> he agrees less tentatively, spanning the spectrum from sienna to
vibrato red, then subsides to a mere pulse-beat.
Lina has arrived.
Caedmith moves now, breaking that statuesque pose and moving in his deboinair
way to the flight deck. Or would it more properly be called the launch pad?
Nemmind, the brown dragon spreads his wings, those sunset-draped 'sails
providing a different, more diffuse, contrast against the blue of the sky, as
opposed to the seal-darkness of his nose and 'spars. He flexes his legs,
bending at hocks and knees: once, twice he bounces, some crazed feline
mock-pouncing on a feather. Third time's the charm, however, as he deepens
his crouch still more and launches himself up. And up. And up. Swift as a
hawk, he arrows towards the clouds, then, setting his wings full out,
gliiiiiides. He's in his element now, soaring, flying, an effortless maneover
as beautiful as it is economical. He overshoots the far mark a bit, having to
backwing quite hard to drop his body from it's height. Another of those
bouncing takeoffs, another effortless glide, and then Caedmith's padded paws
touch the earth at his white-faced, tight-lipped lifemate's feet. Like a
well-muscled stallion, he poses again, wings mantled, jaw dropped in a
draconic grin.
With a sleepy creel and a blink of eyes, Setebos slips off to sleep.
Betha blinks, "See, now that's how you do it." She looks, "Ok, if your
dragon
is feeling sore, go wait over there...If your dragon is ready to take off,
stay in line. We'll get you all patched up."
Mink isn't fooled by the posturings of her dragon. "He says he hurts." She
looks at Caedmith, then Betha, and moves to stand in the 'injured reserves'
area, limping a bit on his off hind leg.
Betha nods, "Ok, Mink...stand by." She eyes the others, "Anybody else? Now,
don't be shy...if your dragon is sore, or hurt now is the time to speak...we
don't want to risk further injury to the dragon and make matters worse."
Lina looks over towards Betha. That was sudden. All she had to do is show up,
and the catastrophe starts. Moving over to the line, she converses with a few
of the other weyrlings. So, your dragon has a funny soft smell to him too? --
<<Hey, I heard that. It's not funny>>... Sorry babe.
Nhaeth rumbles praise, then rustles his mainsail back to cover the peeping
eye. D'ney grunts, pumping her arm in approval of Caedmith's flight. A
whispered discussion follows from their side, and both soon scamper to their
feet to join the line. "Doesn't look like he needs more practice, huh?" the
dark-haired girl grunts to Mink as they pass the pair.
Olexath is last? Well almost, there are one or two behind him. He waits his
turn though, filing away things he sees the others do. Once it is his turn
he carefuly strides forward to take his spot. Rider giggling quietly back
behind and out of the way. Lexie doesn't care if he looks all that great,
nor does he care what everyone else thinks, he just wants to do it. He hops
a bit to get going then he's off. He flys a couple of dragonlengths before
he looks like a plane who's had an engine knocked out. First one wing then
the other nears the ground like a teeter-totter. Wheeee, and down he goes.
Little tufts of dust float up as he lands. With a hint of pride he turns his
head to look over at Halis who's sliently clapping for her blueling, "Come on
back now ya lug." This time he does the crashing plane bit on his way out
instead of when he lands. He nearly lands on Halis this time and rumbles
happily. Thankfully he doesn't injure himself.
(Nhaeth) [#iww] Caedmith isn't letting a little thing like a pulled leg muscle
keep him from sharing the incredible feeling of his first flight. Zithers
jangle in excitement, and a mote of citrus envelopes cumin's zing. << We fly!
It is good! >> Pride in himself and his clutchsiblings infuses the link as
hops infuse in a fine ale. << Only, don't bounce /too/ hard when you take
off, or you leg will pain. >>
Betha closes one eye and dares to watch with the other, "Noooo, you're not
suppose to land on the rider."
S'olan winces at the crash-landing blue. Oh, my. He glances at Lae, who is
still preening just a little, though the bronze has rumbled agreement with
Caedmith's assesment of the flying as good.
You overhear Betha mutter "You ... ... ... ... stop sending those weyrlings
out to do ... drills. gets those ... all ... to really prove ... ...
sheeesh." to Betha.
Halis meeps and steps back, echoing Betha's remark, "Eep! Watch it Lexie, no
landing on people, got it?" Well at least her blue is happy even if she was
nearly squashed.
Here they come, a couple of healers and the a dragon healer. Yippee.."Ok,
who's got the injured dragon now?" The trio stand around, "Over there I
think." ANd off they go, to do their inspection of the situation.
Mink bends over a little sheet of paper and begins penning a letter.
Mink has arrived.
Mink looks up from her letter and ties it to the leg of a waiting firelizard
who promptly goes ::between:: with the message.
Halis decides to limp on off to the barracks to nurse her toe. Olexath
rumbling on behind her crooning with worry the whole time.
Halis limps ever so slightly toward Weyrling Barracks.
Circeoth looks towards Lina, her neck reaching out and snout touching the top
of Line's head. "Hey, hey. You can do it. I know you'll like it. Go ahead.
I'll be down here." It wasn't really needed to throw in those few words -
Circeoth is definately already motivated to go! Circeoth manages to start a
bit of a run type of thing, starting off with not much poise, but a clean
run. Launching into wing action and gliding, Circeoth takes to the sky,
gliding. "Hey, you can come down now!" Lina shouts up to the skies. Although,
Circeoth likes it much up there. "Come. On. Down." <<Do I have to?
"Yes."
Simply put. Circeoth manages a downward spiral, one leg coming down quicker
then the other. Deep mindvoice comes out and pounds Lina right in the head.
"Oh-Oh man. Gee." She can't even make out clear messages. Everything is just
too strong and the impact is definately there. "She-She did something bad."
Olexath waddles toward Weyrling Barracks.
Mink leads Caedmith toward the Weyrling Barracks.
Mink strolls, hips gently swaying, toward Weyrling Barracks.
D'ney is preoccupied with urging Nhaeth to the front as dragons launch and
land in the background.
Nhaeth will heed his weyrling and clutchmate's warnings. With murmured
encouragement from D'ney, he slinks forward, leaping once to test for height,
hide distinctly lightening with anxiety. Flaring tense wings, he begins the
short lope to take-off, taking a nearly perfect starting leap without jarring
his leg muscles too much; his subsequent flaps are relatively weak, but do
provide that ounce of lift to propel him into the aether -- the brown tries
desperately to /stay/ air-bound afterwards, bobbing with the sheer strength
of his downsweeps. Unfortunately, the wings don't quite synchronise as yet,
and he hangs in the air like a wounded avian for a while before instinct
returns, allowing him to lean into a fair glide that brings the dragon the
obligatory length, angling into the ground with a joint-popping 'fwoosh'.
His head rears backwards, and so does his voice, uttering a startled
warble-shriek.
S'olan glances up from his mutual-adoration-society with Laenaoth at the
shriek, and the dragon shifts with sympathy, wincing and twisting his great
head. S'olan furrows his brow in concern.
Oooh, that didn't sound to good. After one injured dragon is looked at the
trio of 'healers' scramble to have a look at Nhaeth. "Rider, get your dragon
to hold still."
Lina gets taken down by a platform, the simple lava lamps are the only thing
you still see.
D'ney holds up her hands in defeat. "Now he's really injured. No, you won't
die, Nhaeth. I think he hurt his leg," she gingerly bends to touch her own
limb at the correct place. "Can't move on it very well. A sprain, perhaps,"
adds she clinically to the healers. Nhaeth is, indeed, squirming, muzzle
tossing from side to side in fitful worry. "He'll be all right, right?
/You/ tell him."
S'olan lopes coltishly toward Weyrling Barracks.
Laenaoth waddles toward Weyrling Barracks.
The huddled circle of healers, Nhaeth and D'ney proceed to engage in a
spirited debate, with much frantic wriggling on the brown dragon's part. He
should be ashamed of himself, and is, with the head hanging down low.
--------------------------
Message 12 of 12 on *IWWeyrlings (#3057):
Date: Sat Jun 23 21:42:51 2001 MDT
From: Betha (#2285)
To: *IWWeyrlingMasters (#3981), *IWWeyrlings (#3057), *IgenWeyr (#5328),
and Leigha (#7319)
Subject: Sick Lame and ummm...lazy...
Clear the skies, clear the skies...weyrling dragons in the air..even if it was
a brief glide. Went without a hitch... Well almost...
They also got their lesson on basic firestone, new chewing just looking. And
they all are aware of what flame can do to that errant bovine that just
happen to walk into the path of a flaming dragon. Needless to say, Remorth
had bar-be-que that night.
Please mark them down for the flight, solo, and also mark down Mink for
Anatomy. Now that they've got injured dragons they'll get firsthand
experience with taking care of those lovely whining sniveling dragons of
theirs that they so dearly love.
If I missed somebody in this list speak now or forever hold your peace.
Thank you.
Solo flight (Dragon only)
Halis - blue Olexath
Mink - brown Caedmith - Injury - Pulled muscle*
Lina - green Circeoth - Injury **
D'ney - brown Nhaeth - Injury **
S'olan - bronze Laenaoth
* minor injury, no flying for a sevenday
** OOC undetermined injury most likey see *
--------------------------