Pern: A Dragonrider's Tale [lé beginning]

[Weasel Overlord]

Pern

A Dragonrider’s Tale
An RPG by Weasel Overlord
(Based on the Pern Universe, by Anne McCaffrey)

Seas boil and mountains move,

Sands heat, dragons prove;

Red Star passes.

Stones pile and fires burn

Green wither, arm Pern.

Guard all passes.

Star Stone watch, scan sky.

Ready the weyrs, all riders fly;

Red Star passes.

But the Red Star has not passed in over two hundred turns, and common opinion is that Thread is no more. But if Thread is no more, then why is it that for turns now, dragon clutches have been growing steadily larger? What are the Star Stones for, if not to watch for the presence of the Red Star in the sky?

The answers to these many questions are not easily found, and we can but wait; outlast these dissenting Holds who scorn their dragonriders openly.

But can we stand against Weyr, at the same time? When Thread is in the sky, dragonmen must fly.

But there is no Thread.

Only fighting amongst ourselves, dragonrider pitted against dragonrider in war that should never have come to pass.

But it is to the glory of Impression that we turn our eyes and hearts today, for golden Nemath has clutched at Benden once more, and there are fourteen mighty eggs on the hatching ground. Candidates from all over Pern gather, hope lighting their eyes at the thought of riding one of our mighty dragons.

The humming reverberates through every silent watcher, growing intense in pitch until, to a gasp of awe, the first egg begins to crack.

It begins.

-----*-----

Cast List

Gold: Tamanth, played by Weasel Overlord

-

Bronze: Larsith, played by Bulbasaur4

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Brown: Lahlileth the Forgotten, played by Plantae

Brown: Myrreth, played by Emotional Faun Chiko-sai

Brown: Zorenth, played by Kuro Espeon

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Blue: Kanaleth, played by River

Blue: Burganth, played by Mystic_Clown

Blue: Joseth, played by Zcade0

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Green: Kraellath, played by Hyperness is a Good Thing

Green: Volath, played by Crystal Tears

Green: Kilnth, played by Crazy Elf Boy

Green: Kirenth, played by Dark-San

-

Reuxus Arienifh the Alchemist, played by EngiMatikul
Inigo Enrique Falzon the Bandit, played by Prof. JB Wolf

-----*-----

My Sign-up

Rinna
Tamanth
*

The dragons hum was all that I could hear, almost all of the time. It pervaded my sleep and even my thoughts, until my teeth nearly chattered with the sound and the vibrations.

The Headwoman had told me not to worry, that the dragons were merely humming to welcome the hatchlings into our world, but her reassurances did nothing to soothe my restless spirit.

Happy though I was to have been brought to Benden on Search, I was already beginning to miss the bustle of the Harper Hall, and the roughness of the Drum Towers. I fingered the drum-sticks Rin gave me with a sigh, but an optimistic thought flashed through my mind.

The dragons noise wasn’t dissimilar to the booming of the big drums when a message was received, and by the first shell, I was definitely used to that sound.

I’d been at Benden Weyr for a week now, under the hospitality of Weyrwoman Tylana and her Weyrleader, R’nael. I’d only caught a glimpse of the two; this seemed to be such a busy time I had no other expectations, so I stayed in the little group of Queen candidates, as I was instructed, doing nothing to alienate myself from these stuffy-seeming girls.

Most of them, it seemed, had been Searched from various Holds across Pern, but none were involved in any sort of craft. If anything, they appeared to be merely awaiting the time when their fathers married them off, one by one, and this only lessened any urge I might have felt to engage them in conversation.

As it were, they kept together at all times; as if they felt themselves to be kindred spirits in their misery. Indeed the lack of people to wait upon them seemed to be taken as some sort of personal insult, and the leader of the group, Menala, took it upon herself to flounce around our amply-sized room making incredibly rude observations about the hospitality of Benden, the state of their wall-hangings, anything she could grasp upon to insult. She was under the firm impression, also, that she was the only worthy candidate for the Queen egg, so it was with these airs that she elected herself leader.

We had come to blows, once or twice, over her haughtiness, and it was to our latest quarrel, over some trifle or other, that the humming reached an unbearable crescendo, and the frantic Headwoman came to hustle us all down to the Hatching Sands, as we struggled to don our perfectly white tunics in time.

As we walked out from the Weyr, the heat of the sand blasted in my face. The air seemed to shimmer with the heat, and the thin sandals I was wearing did nothing to keep the heat from my feet.

With an ungainly hop-skip, shuffling walk, we made our way as quickly as we could to the largest egg of the clutch. It was separated out from the rest, and Nemath sat gazing at it proprietarily, turning her yellowed glare upon us as we arranged ourselves into a semi-circle about the egg.

I knew that there was an audience for the hatching, as always, and I knew also that there were at least thirty other candidates gathering around the other eggs, but I could think of nothing but the heat beneath my feet and the great golden egg which nestled in the sand in front of my eyes.

The Queen egg reached about to my thighs in height, and it shone in the pale morning sun, a vision of beauty like I had never seen, nor ever expected to see.

Suddenly, I was extremely glad that I’d always insisted on having my hair clipped short, as the girls to each side of me looked immensely uncomfortable in the sun, with their hair sheeting down their backs.

As I gazed at the Queen egg, lost in my own thoughts, I realised that the dragons surrounding the Hatching Ground had ceased their humming, and for a second, I knew silence. Blessed, sweet silence, before chaos began to reign.

A resounding “crack” sounded to a gasp from the audience, and I knew that it had begun. The cracking sound came from the other eggs, and our golden egg was deathly still. I held myself stiffly, filled with apprehension. What if the Queen never hatched? What if the Search was for nothing?

But my questions were instantly thrust out of my mind as the golden egg began to shake, noises coming from within.

I waited with bated breath. This was it.

The girl next to me, Lem, threw a hand to her mouth and shrieked as the egg cracked straight down the middle. One of the others pointed rather over-dramatically, and I couldn’t help but wonder why they were here if the sight of a hatching dragon filled them with such fear.

Myself, I watched with increasing interest as a dainty wing emerged from the crack. It was followed by a foot, a tail, a second wing, and finally the pieces of egg fell apart around the little Queen. And oh, what a Queen she was. She shone a rich gold in the sunlight, and as she raised her head imperiously, I breathed a sigh of awe.

This was something of the ballads, after all. But nothing had prepared me for how our little golden Queen would react. With but a seconds notice, she sprang from the remains of her egg at the closest girl to her; Menala.

Obviously our so-called leader expected that she had been chosen, for she let out a delighted whoop, but it was cut woefully short as the little gold collided with her, raking her vicious claws straight down the girls’ face and chest, leaving a ribbon of blood behind that blossomed through the white tunic like a flower.

The rest of the girls cried out in horror, and panic set in. The Queen leapt at one after another, glancing into their eyes and then discarding them with a snap of her jaws or a slash of her claws, leaving destruction in her golden wake.

Her wings fluttered in a mild breeze as it gusted across the sands, and then our eyes met across the fallen bodies of injured girls.

Her wings fluttered once, and then settled into place at her back as she stalked over to me imperiously.

I was aware of nothing else. My eyes, riveted to the swirling blues and greens of my Queen. For I felt her mind touch mine; but a whisper at first, and then stronger as we realised our bond.

I fell to my knees before her, holding her wedge-shaped head in my arms, tears running freely down my face for the first time since I could remember.

My name is Tamanth. And you are mine, Rinna.

“Tamanth.” I breathed into her neck. “Tamanth.”

I’m hungry, she spoke into my mind, a touch of petulance in her mind-voice. I ran a sand-encrusted sleeve across my face and smiled down at her.

What would you like to eat, dear Tamanth?

Anything! I laughed, and rubbed her head before attempting to get to my feet.

A tall man I didn’t know appeared next to me, grinning.

“So you’re the one our Queen chose, eh? What’s her name?”

“She’s Tamanth. Where can I get her some food?” His grin grew wider and he stepped aside with a flourish of his hand.

“Follow me, Queen rider.” He had laughter in his voice, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his dramatics.

Stooping down, I helped Tamanth to her feet and we leaned against each other, tottering off the sands as if we had both hatched merely minutes ago.

I looked around at the others who were following our lead, brand new Dragonriders, all, and was surprised to see quite a few girls among them. I resolved to find out how Queen candidates were selected and then my reverie was broken by an insistent nudge from Tamanth.

Hurry up! I beamed at her, and increased our pace until we finally reached the feeding grounds.

Sinking down onto a welcome boulder, I watched blissfully as Tamanth ran clumsily at a Herdbeast, bringing it down with a well-timed leap.

Are you sure you can manage such a large beast Tamanth?

Of course I can. I am a Queen, she ruffled her wings haughtily and sank her muzzle into the flesh of the beast.

Watching my Queen messily cover herself in blood and gore, I realised that I had never felt so happy in my life.

I love you, I smiled, as she wobbled back over to me, appetite finally sated.

And I love you, but oh, I am tired. Where can I sleep?

Wherever you want to. You are a Queen. I felt her sleepy amusement as we tottered off once more. The strange man lead us to a Weyr and Tamanth collapsed onto a stone couch, her eyes closing almost instantly as I sank down into a waiting cot, equally exhausted.

A flash of concern lit my mind for a second about all the injured girls left on the sands, but I was far too sleepy to give it any further consideration, and I allowed the snores of my dragon to lull me into sleep.

Okay. Dragonriders, post your Impression. It's perfectly alright if you want the dragons to maul some NPCs. It happens. Maul away. XD
Non-Dragonriders, urm, post your impression of the Hatching, perhaps? Talk to me if you're unsure, but you two can basically post what you want.
A note: Each dragon can only speak into its riders mind, and those of other dragons. No dragon can speak to another rider, nor can any rider hear any other dragon but their own. The ability to hear all dragons is a rare one, and I decided not to have it in this RPG.
EDIT: Also, the tall NPC who guided Rinna is miiiiine. *grabs him protectively* More will be said next post, but no-one use him please! ^_^

[Mystic_clown]

Tamrelan – T’lan

----------------------------------------------------
Tamrelan muttered something inaudible as he stood with the rest of the candidates, slightly slouched over and his eyes half closed.

Couldn’t they have waited to hatch during the middle of the day?

Tamrelan almost felt sad when the humming suddenly stopped. That sound was pretty soothing and had helped him get to sleep. But then again, it was a sign of what was going to happen. This would be interesting.

One by one, the eggs started to crack. A couple of the candidates stepped back in fright, causing Tamrelan to roll his eyes. Wow, eggs hatching, how terrifying. Sure, these certain eggs contained dragons, virtually flying engines of destruction, but you’d figure these guys knew what the were getting into when they were searched.

Tamrelan watched as the closest egg to him fell apart to reveal the sapphire blue dragon inside. He looked around for a moment, before slowly approaching them. All eyes followed the hatchling as it walked over to a young man not too far away from Tamrelan. The red-head suppressed a groan.

Tamrelan and this particular person never really got along. They were both from the same harperhall, however, while he was considered a skilled harper, Tamrelan was considered a failure, something this guy continuous flaunted in front of him. It’s not that their different skills bothered Tamrelan, he had come to grips with the fact that he was a terrible singer and musician, but just that this guy was a total asshole.

The man grinned as the blue dragon approached them, quickly sending a smug expression in Tamrelan’s direction. With an air of triumph and superiority, he reached over to pet him.

CHOMP!

Everything was still for a moment as all eyes fell on the dragon…

…who has just bitten the man’s hand, hard.

He let out a cry of pain as he tried to wrench his hand from the dragon’s jaws. However, he didn’t seem to be willing to give up his new chew toy so easily.

The other candidates jumped back in horror, afraid that the dragon might attack them next.

Tamrelan on the other hand was delighted.

“Way to go little dude!” He cheered, pumping his fist into the air. The others sent him a look saying “Don’t encourage it!”

Everyone froze when the dragon let go, and looked in Tamrelan’s direction. Tamrelan felt his blood run cold.

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit.

As much as Tamrelan liked what the dragon had done seconds ago, he really wasn’t looking forward to being mauled by it.

The dragon stopped in front of him. It was then that Tamrelan felt a voice in his head.

Why are you afraid?

Tamrelan was quite before responding.

“Well, because I really don’t want to be mauled,” he replied. The dragon cocked his head to one side.

Yet you supported my actions before.

“Well duh,” Tamrelan said, a little more relaxed now, “He was a prick, he had it coming.”

The dragon looked back at the man, who was nursing his bleeding hand.

True. He did need to be taken down a bit.

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

“So…got a name?”

The dragon’s brown eyes met Tamrelan’s vibrant green.

My name, is Burganth.

[Kuro Espeon]

Hmm... Not too sure about the "maulings". Somestimes the hatchlings would hurt people by accident, but not on purpose, I don't believe... *shrug* Oh well.

FIRST POST!!

Name: Kallev (shortened to K'lev)
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Dragon: Brown
Searched From: Miner Craft Hall, near Crom Hold
Heritage: Son of MasterMiner Chev and Lady Kallana; younger of two sons, with 5 sisters (some older, some younger).
Appearance: Standing at only 5'7, and of a slightly stocky build, Kallev is hardly what one would call 'intimidating'. Flat, short-cut hair of average brown that is often untamed and falls wherever it wants and tanned skin. Seeing as he most often wears clothing of very subdued browns, grays and dull greens, the only thing that ever stands out are his deep blue eyes, however, they are often downcast and not many people get to see them full on. Usually seen wearing tunic tops of the traditional Miner Craft black with brown wherhide pants or loose gray or green trousers and thick hide boots. He is not fond of his miner gear and avoids wearing them whenever he can.
Personality: Very soft-spoken and sullen, he's not very articulate when it comes to open commication. He'll speak when spoken to, but not often other than that. He's also known to stutter a bit when he's nervous (awww). However he is also very loyal, helpful and obliging, ready at a moment's notice to do you a favor.
History: Born as the middle child of a family of 7 (and the younger of two sons), Kallev was often neglected as a child. That on top of being constantly hasseled by other children of the Hall because of his diminuative stature, he often found himself wandering off by himself whenever he had a free moment from chores or lessons. His only human solace was his eldest sister, Leyna, the head cook in the Miner Hall kitchen, and he often took his sanctuary in there with her.
Even though he was raised in the Miner Hall, Kallev never found much love or knack for the trade. After his first trip into the mines ended in a near-death experience from a cave-in, he avoided going back in at all costs, and since then has always had a secret fear of closed-in spaces. Instead he tried his hand at several hobbies, including fishing and widdling (anything that kept him outside). This was much to his father's dismay, who wanted him to stop his foolishness and work down in the mines like he was supposed to. Kallev never saw the point to this (since his older brother would inherit the title of MasterMiner and the Holds as the first-born) and dreamed of bigger things.
His facination with dragons began at 14, when a rider on a giant bronze dragon arrived at their Hall to speak with his father. As he saw the dragon fly over head, it's mighty wings gliding effortlessly through the air, he was inspired by it and even widdle a small, wooden dragon figurine that he always kept with him (lest his father see it). From then on Kallev dreamt of flying, whether on his own dragon or someone elses. However he hardly expected to be Searched by a dragonrider when he was 17 and taken to the famous Benden Weyr as a candidate for Impression.
Other: ......SHARDS!! (btw, can there be firelizards? Pwetty, Pweeease?)

Name: Zorenth
Gender: Male
Colour: Brown
Appearance: Much like his rider, Zorenth was on the smaller side for a brown (while still bigger than a blue or a green), but will make up for it in speed and agility. His hide is a rich, deep brown that is surprisingly soothing and lightens at the wings. His eyes are usually a swirlling, blue of various shades (another match with his rider!) but will quickly change to a more threatening color if he is feeling angry or defensive (particularly if he thinks his partner is in danger!).
Personality: As a compliment to his more introverted rider, Zorenth is very active and outgoing and often pushes Kallev (K'lev) to do the same. While not annoyingly hyper, the brown is eternally inquizative and adventurous. As he grows he matures a bit more and levels out, but still will jump at the chance to do something "exciting".

*~*~*Kallev*~*~*

The humming was almost overwhelming. I had never heard such a sound before in my life. It was so strong and full of energy that I could feel throughout every inch of my body. It was a little bit frightening, but... also oddly soothing at the same time. It was if I, Kallev, the second son of a Miner craft Hall, was being summoned to the Hatching grounds.

Trodding my way up the stone slops of the Weyr, along with the rest of the hopeful lads (and surprisingly, a few lasses), my apprehension grew with every step. I glanced around me at the taller, stronger looking boys in the group and began to feel, as usual, quite inadequate. I coughed lightly and swallowed a lump that was forming in my throat. I was nervous. The natural coward in me was trying to make me turn on a heel and run away alone like I used to. But there was a stronger drive keeping me moving foreward. This was something I wanted. Yes... I had wanted something like this my entire life. I was never suited for the mines near Crom, much to my father's dismay, and had always dreamt of flying a dragon. And now I had that chance to escape! But as my foot hit the almost unbearably hot sands of the Hatching Ground, a thought crossed my mind that made me stop short.

What if none of the dragons wanted me? What if I wasn't good enough? What would happen to me then? I'd be sent back to the mines for sure. I shuddered at the thought but wasn't given much time to recover from it as I was shoved rather harshly from behind by one of the larger boys, Greshal. He muttered something to the effect of "Keep movin', short stuff" and I glanced back over my shoulder to see him glaring at me.

Deciding it was best to avoid confrontation, I quickened my pace and made my way across the sand to where Nemath was waiting protectively with her clutch of eggs. We had been allowed to see the eggs once before, when we first arrived, in order to give us an idea of what would happen, and the Queen had been rathering distrusting then, but now she just seemed outright threatening. Catching a quick glimpse at her narrowed, glowing eyes, I side-stepped my way around to the farther end of the clutch and positioned myself along with the other candidates. Instantly, my eyes were drawn to an egg that sat relatively in the middle of the clutch. As a matter of size it was about in the middle as well; not the biggests by far, but definetely not the smallest. The more I looked at it, the more I found that I could barely take my eyes off it. I was drawn to that one in particular, and part of my mind wondered if, in a way, it was calling to me specifically? What are you thinking, Kallev? That's just wishful think, that is.... I shook my head at my own foolishness.

I spared a moment to glance over at the group of girls in white gowns that were forming a semi-circle around the shimmering gold egg off to the side. The Queen candidates. I wondered to myself which of those girls would end up Impressing? The only one that didn't seem unnerved at all was a girl with short, chestnut-colored hair who was, embarassingly enough, only an inch shorter than I.

I didn't have time to ponder long. The ceasing of the humming dragons, a cumulative gasp from the audience, and a loud CRACK officially announced the start of the Hatching. Not noticing anything else, my eyes shot back to the egg in the middle. It was rocking violently, the dragonette inside using all of it's strength in an attempt to break through. I focused all of my thoughts toward it, silently cheering for the hatchling and hoping that my message would reach it.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to me, the shell cracked right down the middle and fell apart, revealing the body of a small brown dragon, it's dark hide gleaming with the goopy innerds of the egg from which it had emerged. With a small screech it lurched forward, stumbling clumsily on it's brand new legs, it's wings wet and dropping. After taking a few steps, it's head moved in my direction. My heart began to pound. My pulse and my mind were racing. I was surrounded by several other boys, but I didn't even notice them. As if they were moving all by themselves, my legs went foreward and I half ran, half stumbled my way over to the beautiful, brown Hatchling. When I was about 5 feet away from it, it's swirling eyes finally met mine and I was overwhelmed with a loving emotion. My knees buckled under me as I reached the dragon and threw my arms around it's wedge-shaped head. With a croon and small butt of it's head into my chest, I felt his mind join mine, and I felt a love I had never experienced before. Without realizing it, I began to cry on the dragon's shoulder.

My name is Zorenth. Do not cry, Kallev.
"Zorenth!" I repeated, my voice soft and hoarse. There was so much going on around us, but I took notice of anything else except Zorenth.
I'm hungry...
"uh, oh! Of course!" I looked over behind me and saw one of the bronze riders who had led us here, R'til, knealing down beside me.
"What's the dragon's name, lad?" he asked, a large grin plastered on his face, obviously recalling his own Impression day.
"It...it's Zorenth," I replied, in a voice much louder and more confident than my own usually was, "...and he's hungry."
R'til laughed heartily and clapped me on the shoulder. "They always are! Come, dragonrider K'lev! We'll take you two to the feeding ground."
My heart leapt when I heard my name in the traditional shortened form that denoted the rank of Dragonrider and I got to my feet, following R'til and the other new pairs out of the Hatching Grounds, Zorenth butting playfully at my heels.

DONE! W00t! Horray for long into-posts...

[Hyperness is a Good Thing]

My sign up

I'm assuming that since green dragons are smaller, they are light enough to be picked up?
Sorry, it's a tad short...


eideard "e'ded" || kraellath

Eideard shifted a little among the groups of lads and lasses gathered at the hatching grounds. All their eyes were fixated on the eggs - you could feel the anticipation in the air, and it reached a fevered pitch when the sounds of the cracking shells filled the air. He on the other hand, was just watching everything with a rather mild amusement. Some of the youths gathered her were practically drooling for a chance to get their own dragon. He could see it in their eyes, so deep with that strange longing – one he did not feel. All he wanted right now was a cool pint of bitter, to take away some of the heat that filled the air.

The first dragons were out, and many, in their exuberance to reach their chosen ones, inadvertently brushed aside some rather too eager hopefuls carelessly, causing much injury to both body and pride. He shrugged noncommittally, hoping that this process would soon be ended, and he could return to his Trader group, unfettered by such a bond that a dragon and its rider must share. The Harpers wove many tales of their adventures and deeds, but he was not sure if that would be a life he would enjoy.

Suddenly, he was aware that the crowd of prospective riders in front of him had suddenly cleared, and the reason was apparent soon enough. A small green hatchling was making its way straight towards him as fast as it could go, stumbling rather madly in its haste, but using its overly large wings to keep its precarious balance. Having witnessed quite a few maulings all too recently, he wasn’t sure how to feel when it suddenly reared up, placing two large claws on his ties, long snaky neck reaching up somewhere to his stomach. He looked down to see two large blue eyes peering up at him.

’like you

“Sorry little one, I didn’t really get that, my ears must be really blocked up. Would you mind repeating what it was that you said?”

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see that her rather stumpy tail was lashing about wildly.

I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU I LIKE YOU

With some effort, he bent down and lifted up the dragonling to eye level. She was wriggling with happiness of some sort, while her chant of “I LIKE YOU” continued only in his own mind. An alien emotion filled his heart, and he was overwhelmed by extremely strong feelings that he was not entirely ready to comprehend or accept at the moment. His entire being was filled with an exultation like he had never known, and he opened his mouth to express it in the way he knew best.

“I shall call you Mister Bobbles.” If he was getting any weird looks, he really could not care less about that. She squirmed around a little and turned her head from side to side.

What’s a Mister and what’s a Bobbles? My name’s Kraellath and I’m hungry and I don’t know if I’m actually hungry but my tummy’s all rumbly and I want to bite down on something but I can’t bite down on your because I like you, and you won’t like me anymore if I bite you and then I would be so sad and then I won’t only be hungry, I’ll be sad too, and that means I’ll be worse off than I was in the beginning when I was just hungry…

“I’m sure that you are aware that all green dragons are female, right?” a voice distracted him from Kraellath’s continuous chatter. Eideard looked down to see where the voice had come from and found a rather diminutive blue rider he had met earlier, H’ran was her name, he thought.

….and I wonder what dragons eat, I think it should be red with lots of blood and I hope it runs around a little before I eat it….

“Would be so kind as to make the location of the place where dragons may be fed be known to me?” he asked.

…but food in general would be nice and when I do get to eat something I’ll share some with you, how would you like it and then we can eat together and that’ll make you full and then we can be both full…

She frowned a little, and replied, “I’ll lead you to it, if you wish.”

…she’s going to bring us somewhere? Where are we going, you’re taking me with you right, because you’ll take me with you everywhere, I don’t just like you, I LOVE YOU, and you can never leave me alone because I’ll cry and then…

“My unreserved gratitude is yours.” H’ran rolled her eyes, and turned, walking off without waiting to see if he followed. He put Mister Bobbles down, she was getting heavy, and walked, looking down once in a while to see if she was still with him.

..we’re going to get food right? Cos I told you earlier that I’m hungry and I’m even hungrier now and I really don’t want to eat you even though you probably taste good too but all food sounds good right now…

Eideard laughed out loud, very much amused by his new companion.

…What are you doing? you’re laughing? Is that laughter? It’s making you shake all over, that’s really interesting, can I laugh too, it looks like fun, but anyway right now I'm still hungry so if we get to food soon, it'll be good, and then when I've eaten I can try out this laughter thing and….

As he walked and idly replied to the little one, he thought, maybe being bonded to a dragon wasn’t as bad as he had thought it would be.

[EngiMatikul]

http://www.pokemasters.net/forums/sh...2&postcount=34


Reuxus
-----
It was a dreary hot day. For a moment Reuxus wondered again what he was doing, crossing over the barren grassland, through mountains and valleys, on top of some creaky old bandwagon that surprisingly enough was being carried by two strong-looking, glossy haired Runners. But all in all Reuxus didn't really notice this, since all he cared about was that he felt tired, slightly hungry because brother Inigo ate everything already, and wanting to get over with this boring trip already. He was so enthusiastic too, when it started off...
---
"Ini-bro Ini-bro!! Sig-sis, she's been--!!" The young lad ran quickly to Inigo's side as soon as he had heard the news, panicking and wondering what he should do.
"Yes, I have heard." The bandit seemed, at once, serious and pensive at the dilemma. "Well, there is nothing else left to do..."
"What do you mean? Ini-bro Ini-bro, I don't... want..." Memories of his past suddenly swelled up inside of him. On the verge of tears, Inigo finally said,
"There is nothing left to do but to go and rescue her!"
Reuxus looked up. He expected Inigo to be looking back down on him, but instead he was posing gallantly for the girl behind Reuxus, who merely giggled and said nothing. Reuxus didn't notice too much, though, as he asked, "...rescue her?"
"Correct!" Inigo proceeded to walk towards the fellow sister of Sister Siggy, apparently attempting to conduct some sort of weird gesture, Reuxus thought. Reuxus remembered other people always called this "courtship"; Sig-sis always called it "harassment". Reuxus really didn't know what either word meant, except for that gesture.
"Why Mr. Skimmer, I'd be elated to come with you, but I must decline, for I must watch the house--"
"Yes. She must stay." A threatening and serious voice was suddenly heard at the door, and there stood the silhouette of the 'other' brother, with a broom. With one threatening glance, he suddenly lunges at the bandit with his broom, in which the bandit lightly and swiftly evaded the attack, as well as all other swipes that the second man of the house delivered. The brother Glaive, after a while, stopped and smiled to the little Reuxus that had entered the house panicking.
"Sorry about that, my sister Sig told me to take responsibility. And don't worry about her, she'll be fine..."
"But... But..." Reuxus wanted to say something, but couldn't figure out what to say.
"Fear not, dear brother! If they shall not come and aid us, we shall do it alone!! Come! Get your supplies! Some food, some drinks, and of course, all your delightful contraptions! With your arsenal and my cunning wit, WE SHALL NOT LOSE!!!"
Reuxus looked up to him and awed. Then, trying to imitate his older brother bandit, he grunted and made a firm handshake that sort of hurt. As they were walking off into the distance getting prepared, Glaive tells his sister Merlow, "The arsenal, yes. His cunning wit..."
"Oh," the sister giggled. "I'm sure it will be fun. I'm so envious I can't come and join."

-----
That's right, Reuxus thought. They were going to go save Sig-sis, who had been taken by the Dragonriders. He didn't know what they were, really, and why they wanted her to become one, but he always heard how she wasn't quite trusting of the Dragonriders and she might be in trouble. Honestly, Reuxus learned from Sig-sis that Ini-bro isn't as smart as he claims to be, but he certainly is reliable, at least in the eyes of Reuxus. Eagerly he looks out of the wagon, carried by the two horses Inigo most likely stole from the beast hold.
"Get ready, we're almost there... we can't be seen by others, so we'll have to go at night, find her, and bring her home. Does that sound good to you?"
Reuxus thought for a second. It was kidnapping. It was a crime.
"OKAY!"

[Pichu Luver]

Da Sign Up

Tanellin/T'lin
Kanaleth
*~----------------~*

Tanellin wanted to run to the hatching grounds but she restrained herself with difficulty. The humming was filling her with an almost giddy energy. She hadn't even gotten into a single fight the whole two weeks she had been here! She knew this is what she had been waiting for. She was going to get a dragon, for by he first Egg she was NOT going back to Benden Hold!

She was in her favourite clothes of a loose red shirt and brown trews. The riders that had brought them here said to wear sandals but she refused. She had been here before with the other candidates and while hot, it felt pleasantly warm to her toughed feet.

Finally the tunnel opened into the Hatching Ground. A wide grin broke out on Tanellin's face and she eagerly lined up in the semi-circle around the eggs. She barely noticed the others standing beside her as the humming abruptly stopped. There was nothing for a moent and then a resounding crack went through the hall.

Like a signal to the other Eggs, they starting rocking like mad. Cracks spread over their surfaces and Tanellin looked eagerly from one to another. Hoping beyond hope one was to be hers.

A few dragonets had managed to get loose and after some minor mauling (the boy who got his hand bit was particularly amusing as he really had been an deadglow) they were walking away. The joy on their faces made her all the more eager.

She watched as a green approached, tripping over its own ungainly legs, wings flopping all over the place. She could tell it seemed unsatisfied and proceeded to try and bash/claw her way right past Tanellin.

She jumped out of the way, only getting trivial scratches. The dragonets really were very uncoordinated and if quick enough, one could get away. Tanellin watched as a light blue dragonet tumbled out of his egg that had split right down the middle. He awkwardly got to his feet, sand stuck to his wet skin. He crooned pathetically and stumbled forward to the group. A young boy leaped out of the way of a rampaging bronze only to get in his way. The blue hissed at him and swiped. The boy yelped and fell to one knee, clutching his badly bleeping leg.

Tanellin ran forward as the blue hissed some more and whipped his tail around, whacking the teen in the face and knocking him out. This however only caused the blue to tumble over again. Tanellin reached the boy and grabbed the teen's arm to drag him away when she looked up and stared into the blues yellow agitated eyes.

Yessssss, you are good! You protect me!

Tanellin forgot all about the teen as she stepped over him and fell to her knees, hugging the teal head to her chest. He crooned happily and carefully put his front feet on her knees, lifting his head free on her embrace.

I am Kanaleth, you are T'lin and I will love you forever.

T'lin burst into tears as she felt the love and acceptance poring from Kanaleth. She scratched him just above the eye ridges and he sighed happily, his eyes a cheerful green.

Ooooo that feels good, but I'm hungry. Scratches later?

T'lin laughed and nodded, wiping her tears away. She got to her feet, and just in time too. Another bronze went past, just missing slicing her feet open. Kanaleth hissed again but the bronze was oblivious as he stalked proudly on.

"It's alright Kanaleth, let get you some food."

He snorted and sent the bronze one last annoyed look before following her clumsily. T'lin fixed his drooping wings and almost ran smack into the Weyrleader.

He smiled and asked, "So what's this young ones name?"

"He is Kanaleth and of course, desperate for food."

He chuckled as Kanaleh nodded vigorously, crashing into the sand again. "Well it's that way, just follow the others."

She nodded and followed the other new Dragonriders through the tunnels to the feeding ground. Kanaleth chirped happily and ran forward. He stopped at a fellow blue (although this one was a dark navy to his very light cloud blue) and they seemed to be having a conversation. Kanaleth nodded and ran into the group, managing in his clumsy running-flap-hops to turn a Herdbeast towards the other blue. He leapt up at its throat and brought it down.

Kanaleth happily ran forward and the two of them proceeded to fill their bellies until the skin was tight enough to drum on. She smiled and heard a chuckle behind her and turned to see a young man with dark brown eyes and black hair.

"I've heard of eating until you're fit to burst, but these dragons might actually do it."

T'lin laughed and nodded as the two dragonets toddled over to them. Kanaleth eyes were a calm sleepy blue and he made known just how much he wanted to sleep.

"Well Kanaleth here is complaining mightily for a bed so I'll see you around . . ?"

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Zcade0 I'm not actually sure how you are going to shorten your name so I'll leave that to you.

[Zcade0]

I'm not the best RPer in the world, so this stuff is going to be short, I'm afraid. I've never been one for much detail ><

--

Isaac the Wanderer, adventurer and thief, world class swindler and all-around bad influence was quickly jolted from his sleep by an unavoidable calling that had sent him here over the weeks. He tried to resist, but eventually gave in, having long discovered the futility of resistance. He quickly got dressed into a more presentable garb than his pajamas, and went along with the signal. He eventually came up to where the hatching grounds were, not really paying much attention to his surroundings or where he was. He entered, still a bit groggy from just waking up, to be startled awake by the eggs suddenly shaking and cracking. He immediately jumped back, not wanting to be hit by the hatching dragons. Once they'd all hatched, he saw the dragons quickly pick out their future riders. Suddenly, a blue dragon barreled past the others and ran DIRECTLY into Isaac. He tried to lift the dragon off of him and push him back towards the middle, but he heard a loud, surprisingly up-beat voice yelling STOP into his head. Isaac looked around, again completely caught off guard for the loud noise. He eventually looked down at the young dragon poking Isaac with his nose.

I'm Joseth. Bring me food, the voice resounded in his mind again, this time almost seeming like laughter.

Isaac stared at the dragon for one more moment, then burst out laughing himself. He'd heard about this before, and had even seen it once when he was very young, but the sheer absurdity of it just made him laugh. "Alright my friend, I think you've made a terrible mistake, but fine," he told the dragon out loud, still laughing. He looked over to one of the older riders and asked him, "Where can I get food for this one?" Isaac asked the man, "He says he's hungry."

The man looked at him a bit strangely, thinking he'd seen this person on a poster in when he had been traveling to the Southern Continent, but then quickly shrugged it off. "Food, eh? Alright, I'll be right back. What's his name, and more importantly, what's yours?" the man asked Isaac.

"His is Joseth and mine is Isaac. Well, not anymore, right?" he told the man,. starting to calm down.

"Nay, you're Is'c from now on. A very dificult name to shorten, you know. Couldn't your parents have given you a longer name?" the man thought out loud, starting to laugh himself. He led Is'c and the dragonlet to the feeding grounds, where Joseth quickly killed a Wherry, eating it quite quickly. Is'c started laughing again, watching the dragon stumble around trying to get used to land, though it quickly got used to the idea.

After a while, they eventually got sent to where Joseth was to spend the night. A bit of history was exchanged between the two, and they quickly dropped off to sleep, Is'c ending up, somehow, sleeping on the stone floor.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Random note: Siglavy's family calls Inigo Mr. Skimmer because it's such a cunning alias for a bandit that the authorities won't ever catch him if they use that name. (as if)

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Siglavy
Myrreth
"Paranoid Android"

The thought constantly on Siglavy's mind, staying all through the morning, underlined by the draconic humming, while being talked to about proper procedures at Hatchings, while being lined up in front of the eggs and the magnificent golden Queen, was that the collar of this confining tunic... dress... thing... was far too close about her neck, and it scratched. The last time Siglavy had worn a formal tunic, she had been a day-old infant. Bother tradition.

A week ago, she had been taken to the Weyr during some process they called Searching, and the wiry lady with the blue dragon that had Searched her out had said she was Siglavy's mother, and that she was very proud to have at least one daughter that followed in her footsteps, that Dragonriding was a fine profession far more noble and glorious than being a mere Herder, with their ovines and caprines and runners, for you had a companion, a dragon, who would be your other half, your closest friend, your loyal comrade, forever and ever, and that was more than you could say about herdbeasts or humans.

Siglavy had her own private opinions about dragons, but the look in her mother's eye brooked no arguments.

Physically, she passed her week in Benden Weyr most obediently, literally sitting when told to and standing when directed. She was not one of those selected to be a Queen candidate, not that she minded overly much - the Queen candidates all looked dastardly, in a prissy-I'm-better-than-you sort of way, all dainty, golden-haired hoggets except a redhead that was notable by sheer dint of her short hair. Among the hodgepodge of candidates of the other colours, there were precious few females; they could not have numbered more than five, including Siglavy. Vaguely she recognised someone, perhaps a scullery maid; the girl, even smaller than herself, had been Searched from Keroon together with her.

Mentally she was back in Keroon. If Glaive didn't dock the lambs within the next few days, he would have a right mess to clean up at the end of it all, and it would be no fault but his own. For all his Journeyman status, he was more forgetful and less expert in handling the herdbeasts than her. In fact the only thing he showed a continuous (albeit malicious) interest in was the prompt removal of one Mr. Skimmer from the premises of the Beastcrafthall. He had been quite overcome when Siglavy had handed the honorary broom to him... so overcome that he'd immediately begun practising on a stray chair.

(Mr. Skimmer had not shown his irrepressible gypsy hide at the Hall for three months. He was about due. Siglavy could not understand what her sister saw in Mr. Skimmer. Mr. Skimmer had lovely teeth, yes, Mr. Skimmer was quite good-looking, yes, but all this did not cancel out the reality that Mr. Skimmer was a swarthy dirty bandit with an annoyingly long name who wore an eyepatch because he thought 'eyepatches added to the mystery', presumably slept around with women other than her sister and was wanted by Holds all over the continent.)

She'd not had the time to inform many others besides her family about her departure for Benden; she did hope that Reuxus hadn't overreacted when her siblings broke the news to him. That boy was a puzzlement indeed. So much lethal knowledge of alchemy, hidden under a head of shining fair hair; behind a face of such innocence that even the tough matrons who ran the shops in Keroon gave him discounts. If Mr. Skimmer knew what was good for him, Mr. Skimmer would not take advantage of her absence to tutor the boy in the arts of pickpocketing, lockpicking, quaffing, making a bloody great commotion and later escape, etcetera, etcetera.

A hush fell over the sandpit, and what followed next caused Siglavy to temporarily forget about her scratchy collar: fourteen eggs, on the brink of hatching. Many of the emerging dragonets struggled confidently out of their shells, and made a beeline to their desired rider. Siglavy herself, not particularly wanting to Impress any dragonets, inched her way to the far end of the sandpit, away from the mob.

She was halted by what seemed to be an running commentary of events intruding into her mind.

- awful setup, this is. No one is hearing me. Why I'm speaking out loud as can be. It's my lot in this world, isn't it. To be the only one sane and not cannoning about among this clutch of madnets, and not to be heard. And I don't think I'm brown. Brown is such a round, indigestable word. I don't like brown. I don't look brown. I don't feel brown.

As if pulled by some indescribable, irrefutable power, Siglavy's gaze swiveled round to a moderately-sized egg, or rather, the remains of a moderately-sized egg, and in the midst of them, bits of shell still sticking to its moist back, there was a dragonet.

The dragonet was right. It didn't look brown. What it looked was a mishmash of purple and vandyke brown and golden tan and rosy pink. However, for generalizing purposes, she supposed it would be termed brown, as that appeared to be the predominant colour of its skin.

The dragonet uncurled itself, aware that someone was watching it, and raised its - his, Siglavy realised - gloomy head.

Good day, Miss, ah, Siglavy, you say. Or rather, think. Or something along those lines, anyway. I think I'm Myrreth. How do you do, etcetera.

...I think you're a donkey.

You may be right.

Myrreth began plodding his way towards her, shaking off the bits of eggshell in a desultory fashion, while Siglavy sidled in the general direction of the meandering dragonet. It would have been nice if the crowds had parted and a clear walkway opened up for them to reach each other. That not being the case, Myrreth plodded and Siglavy sidled.

She was not quite sure what communicating with the dragonet had done to her, but she felt right, somehow. She was completely convinced that Myrreth was a donkey reincarnated in the wrong body, and Myrreth was likewise in total agreement that he was a donkey, period. He seemed to have an unnatural attachment to his tail, holding it up most carefully as he trotted to her, head bowed in a perpetual sulk. Siglavy tickled the dragonet affectionately under his chin, making him raise his head, if only slightly.

I like my tail. It's the only part of me that I like. Perhaps after elevenses you could help me locate a friend for my tail? It says it's lonely.

I'll get you something pink. You feel pink.

My sincerest gratitude. Also. This man, behind you. He can't hear me, and I think he's a pillock. And he's going to call me brown.

Siglavy turned, and there was indeed a man, and Siglavy automatically thought: what a pillock.

She remedied her observation, after another look, to: what a handsome pillock (much to Myrreth's mild disgust, though the dragonet admitted grudgingly that the man was presentable, as far as humans went). She'd seen him around before; he rode a green, she recalled, and his name was V'mar. Dark hair, impressively pointed nose, open manner. The senior Dragonrider earned her ire, however, when he addressed her thusly:

"So you've Impressed a Brown, young S'lav! Come along, he'll be hungry-"

I may be hungry, but I would appreciate a less blunt bastardization of my colour.

"...Sig."

"Pardon? Is that your dragon's name? But all dragon's names end in -th."

"No. It's mine." Siglavy stuck her chin out stubbornly. "Don't like any other way of shortening it."

"Ah. Curious, that. My apologies." V'mar looked sincerely sorry, but the deed was already done, however unintentionally. Shortened versions of Siglavy's name were a sore point of hers. She much preferred people to call her by her full name, but they always went about chopping off bits of it here and there, without so much as a by-your-leave. The only variation of it that she was prepared to tolerate was Sig.

"The dragon is called Myrreth."

As the man made a sweeping pronouncement denoting the excellence and brilliancy of the appellation, Myrreth backed away and tried to hide behind his rider.

"Where-" Siglavy began, before V'mar's heavy hand clapped down upon her shoulder in what he probably thought a friendly gesture (Siglavy felt a bruise coming to her shoulder, deep in her bones), the other one pointing towards a line of young men and women and dragons, following the lead of the redhead with the golden dragonet.

"There, they're off to the feeding grounds. Our future Weyrwoman looks like she's made of stern stuff. I'll be seeing you around, dragonrider Sig."

*

Myrreth goggled at the herdbeast blinking vacantly back at him, then looked pleadingly at Siglavy, then back to the herdbeast again. He shifted from foot to foot, his mouth opened and shut; his bilious eyes eventually fixed upon the herdbeast's jugular.

Siglavy shrugged. I don't like killing herdbeasts any more than you do, but food is food, no matter how fluffy it is.

Point.

Closing his eyes, the dragonet ripped the ovine's throat out almost daintily, then sat poking at its stiffening limbs, nibbling at exposed veins, before instinct overcame rational thought and all hesitation was done away with. After he was done with his meal, Myrreth cleaned his muzzle and forepaws fastidiously, wings twitching. Then he sat to attention, head hung, almost as if ashamed at his display of barbarism.

What do we do now? I was sickening just now. But not as sickening as the rest of my clutch. Will they oust me because I was not sickening enough? They will. And then they'll blame you, too, because I wasn't sickening enough. I know. Ah, I need a friend. For my tail. So that I won't feel so horrible about being sickening.

Myrreth, you are neurotic, depressive, a worrywart and hypochondriac, and the biggest donkey I've ever seen.

...So is that very wrong?

No. That's fine.

*

They had been shown the way to the Weyrling Barracks, where the thirteen pairs of young riders and dragons who were not the golden Queen and her rider were to make their quarters. Siglavy found what she was looking for in the depths of her pack, and waved the length of bright pink linen in front of Myrreth's downturned snout. It was a bandana that Merlow had given her the previous birthing day in a misguided attempt to nurture her inner femininity. Needless to say, she'd never used it before, but her sister had stuffed it into her pack at the last minute.

For your tail. A friend.

The corners of Myrreth's mouth turned up into something that endeavoured to be, but was not quite, a smile.

*

Siglavy. There is some sort of mayhem afoot. With my luck, it'll all converge here and we'll all get into dretful trouble despite it being none of our faults.

Uncurling and sitting up on the cot, Siglavy rubbed her eyes and scowled. Her hair was sticking up in hopeless snarls, and therefore not doing anything to improve her mood. Oh of course whomever it was had to pick this ungodly hour of the morning to start a ruckus. According to Myrreth, there had also been a muffled explosion prior to all this shouting... shouting, all the while becoming louder, which meant the cause of the shouting was getting nearer. Cogs in Siglavy's sleep-blurred mind clicked and whirred and threw up a worst case scenario.

Oh no... don't tell me...

Myrreth raised his eyebrows, or the ridge where his eyebrows would have been if he had had eyebrows, in interest. Several other Weyrlings had awoken, too... oh bloody hell...

The door was thrown open. A dramatic silhouette was illuminated upon the plain stone floor.

"AHA! The fair maiden Siglavy! Know that I, Inigo Enrique Falzon, the Notorious Bandit and Renowned Lover, have travelled from the distant plains of Keroon to rescue you from the foul clutches of the riders of dragons!"

"Sig-sis!"

...My word.

[Dark-San]

Like the usual, I have to troubled Kirst once again. Bad me.

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------------------------------------------------

Firstly, the surface cracks up a bit, forming crater lines all over it.

A few seconds later, those cracks deepen and later on formed a depression over the surface of the egg.

Some struggling and hard breathing sounds could be heard and eventually, the surface gave way to the force of the protruding snout of some lizard- like creature.

As I stood and being mesmerizing on the sight of a new life being brought onto this world, I thought back of my life and how my destiny begins to unfold itself.

* ~~~~ *

I am just an ordinary fisherman. Hard- work laborer is what I have trained to be, in order to put food on the table everyday. Day by day, my life is simply a routine. Waking up around 4 am in the wee morning, heading out to the ocean with my dad, get those fishes, return to the shore by late evening and sells them off the next day.

There are also times when the seas get nasty and Mother Nature forbids us to go out to sea. It was the time for me to engage in my precious pastime. I would go over to an old warrior’s house where in exchange for some fishes, he would train me in some basic swordplay. I did not fared well initially but under his guidance, I had gained much insight on the meaning behind the way of the sword.

It was until a rainy day when I came over to search for the aged warrior. By the time I got there, he had already passed away in his sleep and by his side was another armored but younger warrior.

The warrior ponders over for a moment and looked at me from all angles.

“Do you have what it takes to be a dragonrider?”

And from there, this is how a new chapter of my life begin.

* ~~~ *

In front of my eyes the green dragon, fully emerges from the debris of the now useless egg -shells, strolling towards me as if it is telling me to pat it on its head.

Like any other newborns, it craves attention that could only be given by mother. However for it’s fate as a dragon, it now shares it’s life with a master, a human- kind.

My name is Kirenth.

The creature communicates telepathically to me as I gazed and took a full view of my companion.

“That’s good for a first time introduction, Kirenth! My name is Raku and I supposed you should be hungry now?”

Kirenth’s tummy growled. The sounds bounds off the cave wall and echoes of it could be heard throughout the cave. The other dragonriders turned their head and looked in astonishment towards my direction. In embarrassment, I lowered my head and pointed my finger towards the green dragon that is still snuggling on my body.

“Heh anyone knows where the feeding area is?”

[Plantae]

= LEHANA = To Defy Stars or The Beginning of the End =

He stood apart from the others on the blistering sands as he bore no white tunic donned in haste, and his face was expressionless. They had caught him at his most formal, wearing his own tunic, miraculously without soot, in the color of a rainy night, pants to match, and boots well-worn and meant for travel. He had come searching for his sister in Benden Weyr, Pele, the wild one, the heartbreaker, who had run off with a man again. He cursed her, as he had done many times before; due to her folly, he was here, and now he was being forced into a possible Impression for a second time. He could have been settled in some corner of Telgar Hold, biding time in a bar, waiting for his next client. He was a man of repute there and looked up to, a far cry from his scarred past, but all of that could be swept away in a moment.

Most of those here, who had heard of dragonriders in esteem, and who had come of their own will (or so they thought), were either eager, excited, afraid, or some pitiful combination of the three. They were the sort that had been in want of their own mount since childhood, desiring to fly as a leaf on the wind. But now that they stood at the very edge of oblivion near the foul brood of devil-Nemath, perhaps having damned themselves in their own conscious decision to come here. "It is when they hatch that they are most vicious." That was an easy statement to give, but one much harder to witness.

Lehana did not ponder over these things, but simply knew them in the way that he knew all people instinctually. His mind was more concerned with the task of determining, of the thirty or so people before the fourteen eggs, how many would suffer unduly. All of those unneeded sixteen would be marred either emotionally or physically, and maybe eight or so would need not worry of scars anymore at all. He knew he wanted to survive, but he would still much rather die than be bonded invasively and forever to some reptile. It was where he stood apart from the others, he sensed; he might have had some measure of their primal fear, but they had none of his disgust.

It had all happened so violently. They said that one could not refuse to attend an Impression as it would be a mark on one's honor. He knew better. In times like these, without Thread, when Weyrs were little more than tyrant states, you could not refuse simply because there was no real choice. If they wanted you to come, they would make you, and the dragon that had come for him had sensed enough potential that from the moment he was selected, there was no turning back. His decision had been made for him. He had tucked this thought away, and he thought that, perhaps, he would exact some vengeance; his only regret currently, though, was of a more pressing nature. They had taken his weapons, or they thought they had anyway.

The very fact that they had not trusted him with them in the first place made a very simple conclusion in Lehana's mind. It was plainly so that he did not harm the hatchlings, and if they would rather him fall unarmed beneath their claws, that also had a word to say of truth. They valued the lives of those demons more than they valued those of their fellow man. Though they could say it was etiquette or tradition, in the feeling mind of a blacksmith that knows where the heat and the cold of a forge lie, it could not explain away the fact that their attitude was heartless.

This had fallen of his normal routine. He should not be here, Lehana had thought. It would be easier, perhaps, to dream that he could fly alone than to wish to do so on a monster's back. Around him, people shivered or sweated or talked quietly and anxiously amongst themselves. To any question put forth to him, he merely smiled and told them, "It shall be over soon." For as deeply as his mind knew the terror this day held, at the same time, he could not bear himself to carry it. He stared at the eggs, without so much as a quiver, and waited indifferently for routine to reassert itself, which it was liable to do, violently and without any mourning for the fallen.

And then it had begun and Lehana viewed all the chaos, the sand colored crimson, with an inner expression of hatred. He clung tightly to his most cherished memories, but he could not shake his revulsion in the wanton creatures before him. Dragons that would, in nothing more than impatience, murder at birth. He tried to remember to focus his thoughts elsewhere, to let them fix onto a cloud and drift away. But his mind had locked to a survival instinct. "These are all your weapons then?" They had asked. He had said yes then, but the truth was, he had a knife which was not honed, of improper length and poor craftsmanship, something he had stolen from a servant only minutes before.

This was how it had been the first time, when he gored out the eyes of the little blue. Between the cloud of dust that had been kicked up and the fact that the audience was either fixed on their own well-being or on the more spectacular bronzes and browns, no one even noticed until after the fact. Lehana had managed to disappear, and they never found the "leatherworker" from "High Reaches Weyr." His mother had falsified records, but out of nothing more than a criminal sense of how to lie low and a desire not to be tied to his possible death in terms of funeral expense, or his failure to impress.

His wishes for this day were not granted. A brown began to lope towards him; it was rust-colored, like a broken sword on an old anvil. He knew if he struck at it with his impromptu “dagger,” everyone would know, and the punishment would be severe. Before it reached him, though, it came upon the neck of the boy in front of him. It forcibly bit the prominent artery there, and the child, for he was no more than eleven or twelve, fell. Most would have remarked, "He never knew what hit him." Despite the attack's swiftness, Lehana could hear the victim's unspoken scream of agony, forgotten as if worthless amongst all the other sounds here. He crumpled to the ground, as if he was nothing more than waste paper, and as his muscles began to spasm, his face twisted into a horrible lopsided smile. He would go on to seize there for some time, but Lehana was otherwise occupied.

He did not know why he did not so much as step out of the way. He felt the gaze of the monster before him, its cruel amber eyes upon his, and his head contorted with a throbbing pain. He felt as if he had touched something wild beyond his consciousness, that he had tapped into some bestial desire, and he loathed it. Before he realized that this was it, that it was attempting to bond with him, he was already resisting. His thoughts were thrust into a boiling pot and mixed with the beast's, memories and urges that wriggled and crawled through him, clotting his lifeblood as if some sort of maggot, a swarm of them, consuming him from inside out. There was a whisper there too, and it might have been the dragon's voice, trying desperately to say its name, but that was nothing more than a tremor or a murmur to him. Lehana brought up his most passionate thoughts, one by one, using them as a bulwark against the onslaught that had overtaken him: of his sister, and then of his prodigal talent and blacksmithing and his pride in that, but it was of no use. He dug deeper into his own mind, looking for some defense against what he now, perhaps, understood, was Impression. There was a terrible release, then, from somewhere in his core as he touched the throbbing heart of the abyss. His senses washed over in gray, and for a moment, he could feel nothing. When everything came back to him, he was on the floor, and there was no longer any presence in his mind but his own.

Lehana reached for his knife, but the brown was dumbfounded, and likely on the verge of rage. He did not know what he was doing as his hands moved for him and he grabbed the woman who had been standing next to him, another candidate who had no understanding of what had just occurred, and he offered her up like a lamb to the slaughter.

And then it was over, as quickly as it began. Lady and dragon melded, as they surely were destined to in the first place, and he was left as he had always been: alone. The furious torrent ceased all around him as dragons found their riders, and he backed away and fell to the ground, unscathed physically. The routine did reassert itself, and no longer did he stand at a door which contained a fate far worse than death. Lehana cried tears of joy.

Let it be recorded that at that moment, he mumbled a few words, arrogantly, to himself that he would forget in times to come. He said, "I am Lehana. I am the one who refuses." It was true, and from those words, some would tell you that the world shook and it changed. But with no scale to measure it by, no one could tell you for certain if it had been just the destiny of one man that had been altered, or if there were greater repercussions. Lehana knew none of this; he was ecstatic, not because life was grand, but because it was free.

Somewhere far below the dam had been broken. A scarlet tide was rising in his heart, for it was the time of its waking.

[Crystal Tears]

Dacian
&
Volath

‘Lovely…’ Dacian mentally scowled, watching the eggs before him hatch. There was a particular one that had his attention. It was a bit smaller then the others, but was shaking quite violently before a purple limb shot straight through the egg’s hard shell. The man tilted his head slightly, observing and discovering quietly that the estranged leg was actually a wing, the claws at the end of each elongated finger curled from a moment, before the entire wing was retracted into the safety of the egg.
For about two seconds, before the entire side of the oval shaped object broke away, a small bit of fluid poured out before a hatchling standing a bit shorter then three feet stepped out. Overly she was green, save for along her spine and arms which were a deep, elegant purple. She had a sort of peeved look to her, glaring at everyone around before her eyes settled on Dacian.

Dacian? There was a brief pause, and the voice floated inside the man’s head for a moment. Funny name…

Her tone wasn’t inspiring, as she mustn’t been impressed with his name. Dacian held back a scowl, though his annoyance boiled inside of him.

I’m Volath.

‘Volath…?’ He watched her flap her wings several times, helping to get the nasty fluid off her beautiful wings before she let out large yawn. The sun glistened off her creamy coloured wingweb as the last of whatever that goo was evaporated or was flung off by her constant flapping. ‘Interesting name…’

Define your term of ‘interesting’. Volath’s voice had changed to a sharp tone, as she rose off the ground, her long, serpent body hanging in the air for a moment before she perched on Dacian’s right shoulder. Her tail coiled around his neck, holding firm while Volath stretched out her wings again with another yawn. I do hope it wasn’t insulting. He was a little surprised at Volath’s weight, it wasn’t heavy; in fact she was quite light. Maybe it came from her agile body structure…

‘It’s not in my nature to insult anyone, especially a beautiful dragon like you.’ Though Volath’s expression stayed relatively annoyed, Dacian felt a ting of pride rush through him from his little hatchling’s mind.

I’m hungry.

‘That sounds like a demand.’

It is.

It was odd having to hold his tongue when speaking to Volath. He didn’t want to look strange, so his voice had to stay inside his head until he was promptly talking to a human. With that cleared up, he approached a man, probably the Weyrlingmaster, and if not. Then he was dressed in a way that he’d know his way around.

“Excuse me.” Dacian half smiled as the man noticed him. “But where is feeding grounds?”

“Oh eh.” He pointed to a group that was gathering and following another hatchling supervisor of sorts. Was that there title? OH why bother trying to remember, not like Dacian cared him anyways. “Follow them alright?”
“Thank you.” Though the words hardly meant that, Dacian bit his tongue at the number of insults flying through his head, but then he wondered why he was so annoyed. That man had helped him, why be angry? Probably because someone like that held himself better then everyone, though most importantly, better then Dacian and his new friend Volath.

“Oh hey lad!” Dacian turned back to the man. “What’s ‘er name?”

“Volath.”

Volath didn’t wait long, as soon as they arrived at the feeding grounds and with her wings dried, her tall uncoiled from Dacian’s neck and she swooped off of his shoulder. Her body twisted around, catching one of the Wherries off guard. It twirled, but its furry body was soon caught in the speedy hatchling’s grasp. They both went to the ground, Volath pinning the creature under her as she bit into its flesh. Dacian watched as blood squirted from the wounds and splatter all over Volath’s face and ground.

‘Lovely…’ He thought. ‘Just Lovely...’

I do agree Dacian, quite lovely indeed.

‘Obviously you’ve never grasp sarcasm.’

Volath stopped her feeding for only a moment. Not quite, I just chose to ignore your infernal pessimistic nature on everything.

“Not on everything.” Dacian growled, gathering the attention of a view also on the feeding grounds. ‘Just rabid feedings.’

Oh that’s right, women; especially the pretty and easy type, escape your pessimistic lure. And I could show you rabid feedings if you wished…

‘NO.’ Dacian nearly let the yelp escape his mouth as Volath struck a rabid and slightly scary pose above the torn up wherry. ‘That’s quite alright.’
Volath smiled, though it was a triumphant, I own you sort of gleam which she continued to wear on her face as she cleaned herself, making the blood that had splattered on her disappear. She flapped her wings and returned to her perch on Dacian’s shoulder, before resting her head on the top of his.
I’m a bit tired now…

‘Another demand of yours?’

~.~

Dacian laid in his bed, he bed was relatively near the end of the cavern like room, if you could rightly call it that. Volath had curled up at the end of a stone couch, sleeping soundly as her rider tossed and turned. His inability to sleep eventually got at him, though his eyes were nearly closed, images flashed before hid fluttering eyelids and he found himself awake. Quietly he slipped a small piece of hide from the small bag next to his bed, then a rag and finally a charcoal stick.
Mind numb from lack of sleep, Dacian entered a sort of ‘trance’ much like sleep, where the world around him was a blur and dark while only the paper was alit. His hand grasped the charcoal with elegance as he scribed a small story. The images in his mind much like a dream. A world of his own, wrapping itself around a little dragon. Even a picture was beginning to be scribbled, a slumbering monster, hiding within a cave, waiting for little mouse knights to come in and attempt to slave the beast. But it was no use for them, so thousands of bones belonging to the strongest of rodents, even the mighty king rat.

Quietly, Dacian slept while his hand continued to shade and give detail to a beautiful dragon picture.

[Crazy Elf Boy]

Name: Midna
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Dragon: Green
Searched From: Keroon Hold
Heritage: Craz Bey (Master Smithcraft) Lisya Bey (Master Harper)
Appearance: Midna is quite short for her age, just above 5 feet. She has long chestnut brown hair that comes round her shoulders, she has pale blue eyes and slightly rosy cheeks. She normally wear a short sleeved light black vest with a long sleeved white cloth shirt underneath
Personality: Midna is really quite becuase she doesn't get noticed a lot because of her small stature, she tries to voice her opinion but is usually ignored. Becuase of this silent upbringing she usually does what she is told to do. But when angered or in control she is known to get a bit psychotic
History: Not much to really note, ummm grew up in Keroon hold. Mostly been the chore girl for most of her life becuase of her silent personality. Lately she has started to not do the chores assigned to her and making a bit of a silent revolution.
Other: I want a friend (luv, luv, luv)

Name: Kilnth
Gender: Female
Colour: Green
Appearance: Kilnth is a bright green, she is also quite small for her age. She has a long thin body with a thing whispy tail with a slight spaded end. She has tiny litte spikes protruding from her back, making her a tiny bit hard for the rider to ride.
Personality: Kilnth is very much like Midna, very quiet and loyal but at the same time very boisterous and quite psychotic when cocky of in control. Though she has been known to give in even when she is on top because of threat of really bad repurcussions brought on by gloating to other dragons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Midna
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I watched in awe as the tiny rickety wagon moved through the illustrious gates of Bendenweyr.

I looked down at the clothes I was wearing and then to the formal and expensive tunics that the people around me wear in. I grabbed my legs and curled myself into a tight ball as to shut off outside interference.

“We are defiantly not in Keroon anymore” I whispered softly.

The wagon moved into the main part of the Weyr and stopped just outside a very large rustic building. We were all ushered quickly into the building. I walked through the front door then turned around to look at the beauty of the building. It was bustling with activity, probably people chosen for the hatching.

“Everyone that was chosen please move to the hatching grounds” shouted a bald round man from the balcony above us.

We all quickly moved into the large roomed, the was a pile of sand in the middle of it piled high with eggs. We were all asked to stand around the eggs so that the dragons could choose us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~``
*10 minutes later*

I could finally see something happening, the eggs were starting to hatch. I turned around to see the giant queen egg was almost about to hatch, I had a good look at the girls that were chosen for the queen.

I started to rattle of proposed titles for them “Princess, Princess, Rich Father, Princess, Big House, Lots of money”

But one of them seemed different from the others, she was a slightly taller then I was with brown hair. This girl intrigued me, what was so different about her.

I could see tiny pieces of egg shell shed of the queens egg, then a foot, the a long tail, finally a beautiful golden wing. One girl who had thought she had been chosen leapt down at the dragon, but with one fell swoop of a claw it slashed her right down the middle of her body leaving a sickly trail of blood. The girl feel to the ground and the dragon go into a frenzy. Everyone started to panic and feel uneasy, then the pile of eggs we were standing around started to break. A menagerie of tiny wings and claws….and teeth…….and strong limbs……..emerged.

“Run for it” one girl in a complete panic shouted “They are trying to kill us”

Though I could see that some people were already lucky enough to have the dragons to choose them, one of these people was Miss Siglavy from Keroon. A wash of sadness flew over me as I thought I was never going to have that pleasure.

“How do I get out of here” a tiny voice asked in my mind.

“Who are you” I asked

“Details, details all will be revealed later, now how do I get out of here?”

The crowd parted in fear as a tiny egg rolled across the ground towards my feet

“I will ask you one more time, How do I get out of here”

I picked up the egg cautiously, hoping that I wouldn’t break it.

“Please for the love of the egg, get me out of here”

I tapped on the side of the egg, the egg tapped back. I moved over to a seat and gently tapped the egg on the side of the arm, a tiny crack ran down the middle of it. Pieces of the egg slowly fell to the ground, then a tiny green lizard with a thump.

“Thank you so much Mi’a” cooed the tiny dragon

“No, no” I replied “Its Midna”

“No, its Mi’a”

“Ummmm, I think I would know my own name”

“No I call you Mi’a and you call me Kilnth”

“Kilnth that’s a weird name ,can I call you Fluffers?” I asked

“Nope.”

“Wingles?”

“Nope”

“How about….”

“NO, my name is Kilnth and that is how you shall address me”

A large man put his broad hand on to the top of my shoulder “What is her name my dear?”

“Kilnth” I replied weakly

“I am hungry” shouted Kilnth

“Also he is hungry” I added

“Well I suppose so” the man replied “The feeding grounds are that way

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~
*Feeding Grounds*

The wind whispered softly through the trees, I felt it wash a cleansing vitality over me. I watched as Kilnth and the other dragons hunted down the poor sheep to feast on. I watched in awe at the worlds most effective killing machine mow down the helpless live stock.

“Mmmm, this is good you should try some”

“No thankyou, not here please”

“Oh please, it is very good”

“Ok, only a bit though” I moved down towards the sheep that Kilnth had just killed, being accustomed to a bit of raw meat I ripped off a tiny piece and put it in my mouth. Kilnth grinned in delight as I slowly chewed on the tough hunks of sheep meat.

“It’s good isn’t it”

I gave off a slight nod, to symbolize my gratitude

“I am sleepy now, lets go have a nap”

[Weasel Overlord]

Rinna

Tamanth

*

The Weyr that the strange man had led me to was peaceful and quiet, away from the heavy breathing of the other new candidates, and as I awoke sleepily, the events of the morning before flooded into my mind. I reached out to Tamanth, as if to verify that it wasn’t merely a dream and her sleep-tinged mind-voice filled me with joy.

I’ve been awake for aaaaages now Rinna, just waiting for you to stir your bones

If you’ve been awake that long, why didn’t you get up and move me?

’Cos I was comfy and warm here, and I didn’t want to move, why else?

I grinned at her indolence. Aren’t young dragons usually full of energy and leaping around everywhere, killing Wherries and the like, Tamanth?

I am a queen. It does not befit a queen to be leaping around like a common green in season. And besides, I am comfy. She rolled over onto her back and let her wings drape down either side of the stone couch. I shook my head and sprang from my bed.

My skin itches, Rinna.

Is that why you’re rolling around on the couch like a lazy dragonet?

Of course. Will you oil me? While I lay here? It’s really comfy... I nodded on my way to the Weyr opening. I had no idea where to get oil from, or how to oil Tamanth. This whole situation was completely new to me, as I’m sure it was to everyone else who’d just Impressed.

I coughed discreetly at the cave-mouth, but there was no answer.

There was a man there before, the one you /liked/, but now he’s gone.

“I did not like him...” I muttered, as I peeped around the corner of the entrance.

There was no-one there. Do you know where he went?

Why would I know that? I went back to sleep again.

That’s cos you’re lazy.

Mmm. Hurry up with the oil, would you? The itching is unbearable.

I dashed back into the Weyr, slung on some more suitable clothing, and dashed back out again and into the corridor. Now which way had that man brought us?

Choosing the left passageway, I padded softly along, certain that I was going in the right direction, as I began to hear some voices, and the stirrings of a commotion.

In fact, it sounded like less of a commotion, and more of a debacle. I beamed, and strode onwards to the Weyrling Barracks. There was a small door leading into the barracks, and the ruckus was most definitely situated behind that door.

I pushed it open a shred to peer through at the scene unfolding within.

Be careful, Rinna. It sounds dangerous in there...

It’s all very dramatic. How exciting!

There was an eye-patched man standing in the Barracks, shadowed by a small, blonde-haired boy who looked nervously around at the new riders and their dragons, who were all staring at the pair, some with mouths open and gaping, some looking scared, and some simply looking bored.

I couldn’t quite hear what was said inside, but the eye-patch man was standing protectively next to the blondey-brown haired girl. I’d seen her Impress a Brown earlier the previous day, which had stuck in my mind as I remembered someone telling me that girls didn’t often Impress Browns, but in these Threadless times, who could ever tell?

I was so caught up in the drama that I thrust open the door so that I could get a better view of the situation as a whole. The wooden door swung back with a clatter as it hit the stone walls and all conversation ceased as everyone in the Barracks turned as one to stare at me, their dragons eyes whirling an irate yellow.

With a triumphant shout, the eye-patched man sprinted the short distance across the Barracks and grabbed me by the arms. Gripping my upper arms tightly, he wheeled around so that he was behind me, a wickedly sharp knife suddenly glinting against my neck as if he materialised it from nowhere.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Tamanth’s roar of fury that someone dared to threaten the queen’s rider, and a sensation of fast movement and flapping dragon wings and anger, deep, righteous anger flooding my senses.

I heard the bandit man shout; how could I not, his mouth was so close to my ear.

“Her life for the life of our Siglavy!” he proclaimed. “We will take her away from your foul, draconic clutches, and you can keep your queen.”

“This isn’t what noble bandits do, ‘Nigo,” the small boy piped up from behind the Brown girl rider.

“He’s right you know,” the girl said. “You,” she glared at him, “told me that noble bandits don’t stoop so low that they have to take hostages.” She paused, as if to think about something.

“What about your vow to ravish every woman on the continent before you’re twenty one?” He seemed to waver slightly in the face of this argument, and it was all I could do not to snort with laughter. This guy could not be serious.

“If you cut her throat, you’ll never get to ravish her! ‘Nigo! Listen to me, damn it, or I swear by the first egg, I’ll bloody castrate you!”

A throat was cleared somewhere behind me and my captor, and he slowly turned us both around to regard my tall man, staring at the scene with an extremely amused expression and one raised eyebrow.

“Well well,” he said, a smile spreading across his tanned face. He ran a hand through the mop his mop of unruly hair and winked at me. He actually winked at me. As if I wasn’t stood there, my arm nearly numb and my neck nearly sliced in twain by an extremely sharp knife.

“Who are you?” Inigo demanded. “Have you come to parlay with me for the life of your woman?”

“My woman, you say?” He chuckled. “No, I’ve merely come to warn you that there’s an extremely angry queen dragon charging down the corridor as we speak, ready to maul the face off the man who is threatening her rider.” He smiled pleasantly. “Oh, and my name is M’lin, rider of Bronze Sirrelath, so you might want to watch what you say, bandit boy. My dragon doesn’t take kindly to people insulting me.” He stepped aside with perfect timing, just as Tamanth whirled into the room, her eyes the most angry red I’d ever seen.

I TOLD YOU IT WAS DANGEROUS! I’LL /KILL/ HIM!

Inigo let go of me as if he’d been burned, and I winced as Tamanth pursued him to a corner of the cavern, her teeth bared and eyes flashing fury.

“Do you think we should pause this enjoyable spectacle, oh queen rider?” M’lin had to bend down to whisper in my ear and his hair tickled my cheek as I nodded with reluctance. I was very much enjoying Tamanth sticking up for me with such fervour.

Perhaps you should stop now, dear heart. You’ll give the man a heart failure.

He deserves one. Tamanth sounded sulky, but she sat back, wings outspread for balance and glaring straight at Inigo with yellow-red eyes. I will watch him here. You get your man to fetch someone important. I flushed at her reference to M’lin and he looked down at me, a grin on his face.

“I’ll go get the Weyrleader, shall I?”

[Plantae]

= The Bygone and of impulse gone astray =

For a pristine second, a whisper had passed through his mind which for once, had the clarity of the purest fount. His animal instincts were not so much shrouded as exemplified, given purpose and naturalism as his soul found his exact counterpoint reflected, and a chill wind filled his senses. For that one glassy moment, he had dangled over the edge of a chasm, of a perfect union with the human mind, and it had been a terrible and invigorating experience. He did not realize, however, until the following second, how much he desired it again. In the dream-like world, a flawless insouciant mist had risen into his mind and shut it out, and that possible future had fallen out from under him. The man before it, or so it assumed, given the lay of his features, was male, was meant as his companion. But Lahlileth stood in the middle of a room full of people, of his kin, forgotten.

His eyes bore a thousand miles in front of him as he searched for a point in space, for that other pair of eyes that were meant to be that of his only needed ally in the world, and he had only the vaguest sense of what proceeded about his person. There was a tempered hatred boiling in his gut, and halfway through the Impression process, the gaze of the boy found itself transposed as that of a feeble woman, leaking fear like a broken spigot. Before he could stop himself, though, he and she were made one, as the disgust within him came to a fever, and all was lost. Though he made no note of it, to her own race, she was, maybe, somewhat attractive. That is, she had cornflower hair with just the slightest curl, which spun the sun as if the thread of the heavens. Her face was not altogether novel or beautiful, but her wide, easy smile made it more so, and there was a pleasant curve, like a heart shape, to its form. Slim, petite, she was in a word graceful. That is, until one saw her move, and realized that though she was perceived, when still, to be a dancer, she was no more than the makings of a young woman who had not quite grown in to her own body mentally.

Again, as if it was only his purpose of blood to do so, his mind formed and spouted words into hers. "I am Lahlileth. You are my rider." If he would have spoken with his mouth, as she was tempted to do, the words would have tasted foul. To his discomfort, she responded, numbly, "Pleased to meet you. Shelagh is my name and you are just lovely! Oh, wait, I suppose I must be Shah now, how adorable that is." Her stupidity immediately struck him; in their empathy, he knew she was occasionally witty, and as their memories intermixed, his short and hers composing a decade and a half of thought, he knew that she could be clever. She was not a simpleton. He did not realize her exact idiocy then. If he had possessed some inkling of etymological knowledge, and had foreseen how the meaning of her name would affect him and his own, he might have murdered her then. But as it was, the worst was to come.

So it proceeded blindly. She was discomforted by the display of his brutality. She was not a rich woman, but was one accustomed to a life in which the darker deeds were done out of her eye-line, and so to see his way of going at a herd-beast made her stifle nausea. She was loquacious, but she soon noticed that her chatter washed over him, that it was nothing more than a screeching music, just at the very side of his hearing and in his ignorance, he remained at peace. By the time he had finished his feast, for the effort of hatching had made him voracious, he had learned to be just at rest with her voice as he was with silence, for within him, they were one in the same. He did not say even a word back, and though she got the feeling that he listened to her ramblings, this was not the case. Despite this, though, he fed on her, her jubilant life, like he did the meat.

Given this sustenance, Lahlileth felt suddenly alive, dispassionate, but wholly active. The wretched mechanisms of his head turned quickly, and though he did not so much have thoughts as have instincts that move in linear form, he brooded. Dragons being of unsound memory, within hours almost all impression of his failed other bonding had dissolved. There was, though, what could be called a nagging in his subconscious, but him not prone to crossing into that territory of his brain, it went mostly unnoticed. The little effect it had could be described thus: as the day passed, he could not help shake the feeling that something was implacably wrong. And as rider and he returned to the barracks, there was a distant yearning for the northlands. He slept restlessly, dreaming of agony and death not his own.

= The Denial and what follows =

Lehana remained as he was for at least a quarter of an hour until roused from his pseudo-mournful state by an attendant, who having already given audience to those elite, the riders and theirs, was now more or mildly concerned with attending the wounded and the rejected. They had assumed he was of the latter, but they did not know that such was actually the state of the dragon to which he had very nearly found himself in union with. “You there, get up. You have not a scratch on you. Be glad for it.” In a better world, or given some semblance of etiquette, that statement would have been different. Lehana decided to respond in kind.

He was not quick with words, so he said only, “Is my business disturbed not injury, insult enough?” He left the man to contemplate this, but the set of his mouth showed he did not mean to, and given that, Lehana did not so much as hide the hate in his features, but rather, departed with it firmly intact. He was a man to keep grudges, and so he loitered, eavesdropping if you will. Another servant addressed the man that had spoken as bluntly as the set of his ugly face formerly, and so he learned his name, which he took down in his memory for safekeeping of the worst order.

He found himself in a pub nearby, and he waited, chatting soon with a local girl, a brunette with more than a little bosom and a little rough around the edges; if he would have rejected her, though, it would have been his loss. She was not beautiful and hardly acceptable, but she was something of voluptuous, and alive at his touch.

Given his purpose, he initially let her invitation pass deafly, telling her he would meet her in perhaps thirty minutes time, to which she smiled, nodded, and then quickly went to speak with some of her closer friends. He could tell solely from the set of their features that they spoke of him, and it went, perhaps, a little to his head. As so, when his charge, the offending attendant from before who had treated him as filth given his failed impression entered, he entertained an exaggerated vengeance. He did not greet the man, but when he sat at a nearby table and spoke with another gruff customer, Lehana leaned over and muttered to the bartender to bring the both a beer.

Once the dim light was accounted for, which disguised the telltale blinking that he was prone to when lying, all was well within hours. His new companions, having reconciled there feelings after one mug of ale, were inebriated, and he was pretending to be. When the gruff man was discharged, stumbling home in some alley, it was but the two of them and the bartender left; so it was simply done, when he got the next round of drinks, to slip a fierce, nauseating sedative into the drink of his hideous enemy. The spite would be complete in minutes, and once the beer was drained, he made up excuse to leave. He knew, once he had left, that the same man would be in immense pain, that he would vomit near-constantly for hours, and that his head would throb for at least a day. He would probably assume it as the effects of beer gone off or how much he had drunk, and no one would be the wiser, save Lehana. Though the truth was disconcerting, it was simple that, given his family heritage on his mother’s side, carrying poison was typical.

He would have been happier, though, if he had mended two swords with one blow, so to speak, but as of now, he still knew nothing of his sister, Pele. He woke in the night, though, realizing that he had failed to recognize a face; the other man, the gruff one, whose name he had caught as being Brogan, was the man she had run off with, if his father’s description served.

In the morning he asked about, found the inn in which the two must be staying which was but two blocks from his, and proceeded to the spot. What he found shamed him.

A man of few witty words, all he managed to stutter was, “Pele, you wench!” Considering the situation, the words were a bit too literal.

Pele was what many would call “feisty,” others “vivacious,” but to him, she was no more than volatile. She had a crop of red hair and a constant layer of make-up, her lips cherry-red, her skin milk-white, and her clothes, or at least as of the moment, leaving little to the imagination. She did not seem so much as embarrassed, and she grinned as she pried the face of some strange man from her lips. “Oh, Lehana; fancy you being here! Sit down a bit, relax! Be with you in a-“ she was silenced by the same man, who was beginning to press their little rendezvous further. At the moment, his sister had captured the very essence of a painted jezebel.

“What the hell are you doing you selfish whore! Father’s dying at home, and here you are.” At this, the short, balding and beer-bellied “gentleman” ceased his advance, realizing that things were soon to go awry. But it was too late, as Lehana had already crossed the room and floored him with a blow to the jaw. His sister laughed, in the vicious way she did, and the man realized at once that he might have been mistaken on the character of his mistress.

Her face turned, however, when Lehana lost his self-control; it was not all that unexpected. He did not have a temper, he did not even have honor, so the reasons for his punching the man were muted. Despite this, even wanting to restrain himself consciously, he could not stop. He was a man of heart, usually, that acted politely, but ever since the failed bonding with that dragon, something had been bubbling up inside him. He had never felt so sadistic as he did in the moment when he started to full-on kick the man as he lay on the ground, the edge of his foot slicing his nose, which began to bleed profusely, likely broken. It was as if an animal had taken him, when he had always been so civilized, so composed, when he had let nothing get to him and had gone on with fatalism and a face bearing nothing but mirth. At length, when the man cried out for him to stop, he did so, realizing what he had done. Grabbing his sister, he fled, and no more words were said the length of their leave. They grabbed what little she and he had brought from their rooms, and she still in risqué clothes, were at the gates of the Weyr.

It was not until then that she spoke, her voice timid, something that put even him on edge. She was always boisterous, and her voice crossed the room at any volume, but now it was like a whisper. “Lehana, what has happened?”

His reply was no more than, “I am in a foul mood. Let off it.” She gabbed idly thereafter, but as another had learned so aptly to do in the past day, her voice was but silence to his ears. The subject of her being forcibly brought back was never brought up; perhaps, having seen the prior event, she had smartly saved herself such aggression, but Lehana could usually scarcely raise his voice to her. It was she that bullied him, ever since they were children.

As they traveled the road, he could not shake the idea that there were feral urges about him and he had never been so seized by such feelings before. His mother had said he had potential for bloodlust. Was this, then, what she had meant? But it had been just a brawl in a bar, and the man had lustful feelings towards his sister, so surely it was justified. But it was not just that; there was a feeling as if something was missing. It was as if a possession very dear to him had been lost without his knowledge. At that moment, he did not know that such was not far from the truth, or that what he had misplaced was worth more than any gem or spice. What he had received in its place, however, was just as foreign.

= A Threshold and the reptile meditating thereby =

The odd, night owl of a passerby would have been disturbed by a rust-colored beast, standing in the doorway of an unwelcoming stone room, looking out into the velvet black air. It sniffed once or twice, and beat its feet upon the ground, folding and unfolding its wings to an unknown stress. And more by more, it peered, as if trying to see what was occurring somewhere distant.

“Oh, Leth, come curl up with me. You must not stand that way, and we ought to be asleep. We have a big day tomorrow, I am certain!” Her vivid telepathic smile and satisfaction sickened him, as if a migraine. There was a pause to which he noted was followed, interestingly enough, with a resigned sigh, and then, “Why do you stand that way?” It was the voice of one tired of speaking rhetorically.

“Movement in the shadows. I have desire, but I know not for what.” She did not understand, not what he had meant, or what she could say to it. He did not mention that the shadows were those deep in his own brain. Instead, he put her at ease, deliberately, by returning to his bed-place. But once she slept, snoring in a less than ladylike fashion, he returned to stare into the pitch-colored night, that which stirred such feelings in him, like longing.

Neither did he so much as mumble to her, even when the dawn had come and the last vestiges of the feeling had since vanished, that he had known what the desire was. It was the need to hunt.

[Bulbasaur4]

Name: Cainnar to be C'gon (SI-GOHWN)
Gender: Male
Age: 18 ½ (He’s weird and likes to point out the halves in things… O.o)
Dragon: Bronze
Searched From: Healer Hall from Fort Hold.
Heritage: Son of Master Healer Cangon and no-name mother Ai.
Appearance: Cainnigon, at first appearance and at a glance, is what one would call a natural oddity. Of course, he doesn’t look odd if you analyze him from head to toe from one particular feature. He has soft raven-black hair that reaches just slightly past mid-neck. His hair has a bit of a luster to it, not seeming to ever be straight but always having some sort of gentle wave or volume. His eyes are neither dominantly green or gold, but interchangeably both. His skin isn’t ghostly pale, but it is a nice porcelain complexion with only a tad remembrance of sun rays. He tends to always wear darker things… not because he’s dark, sinister or moody in anyway, but rather because in paler things he deems himself ‘washed out’. He primarily wears a dark black robe, equipped with a lovely hood that usually is draped down. (He doesn’t usually try to spook people with it up.) His robe must be tied together with a rope in order to fully wrap about his body, but he usually leaves it untied so that it flows open when he walks. (A ‘billow cloak’ as he calls it.) This exposes what he wears underneath- a simplistic long-sleeved white shirt and dark blue pants (so dark they seem black, he loves the dye job upon it.) that tuck into his black, supple-leathered boots. His appearance somehow seems to be the right mix, despite some of his subtle features. He attracted a few females in Healer Hall, but his interest in experiments and his dislike for the Hall overall kept him from realizing it.
Personality: Cainnigon is what most would label as, ‘odd’. While he isn’t dark or sinister, he does have an affinity for liking ‘darker’ things by nature. While most children back in the younger days loved bright, vivid tails of adventure… Cainnigon was more interested in the darker days- those who broke laws or those who were punished. Cainnigon did like dragons, but he took a fancy to the more pitiful dragons (or those he deemed more pitiful, when comparing to the rest.) While Cainnigon’s affinities for strange things might not be so odd, until you compare them to his outer self. He is quite witty and has a keen eye for spotting the most ridiculous things in matching ridiculous detail. He doesn’t like to pick arguments, but he will listen to them and if you win him over to your side… he has a bad habit of twisting his words to make the other party seem idiotic. He generally is good natured however, and while he isn’t bubbling over with cheer or joy, he is pleasant to be around. He also is very curious and it shows when he likes to ‘test’ substances out. oh, and perhaps given the right nuturing habitat... he would have become a 'romantic'. However, being around his father and rather up-nosed womanly healers who were usually to old or up-nosed for him anyways... he has yet to discover any hint of it.
History: Cainnigon, at the ripe age of partial maturity, was instantly thrown into the wonders of Healing Hall. There he was taught the proper ways of healing, the teachings of the premise of healing and all the wonders of the ‘healing art’. However, Cainnigon soon found that while he unnaturally seemed to grasp a ‘hold’ of the art and understood it… he utterly found it a bore. While his father praised him, marveling in his ‘gifts’ as a healer… Cainnigon found no pleasure in his father’s praise. Instead, Cainnigon some-how stumbled upon the idea of experimentation with different herbs and plants. (To this day he changes the story some-what… probably to keep himself safe from having broken a few good rules.) Soon, Cainnigon practically became obsessed with the new discovers and knowledge he was finding with his experiments- particularly dealing with Poisons. Cainnigon soon found he needed to acquire more knowledge- so he acquired books of plants, medical lore and anything that could have some indirect or direct way with concoctions that dealt with poisons, ‘mysterious liquids’ or any devised substance that was considered ‘unnatural’. He was able to do this for many years… happily finding a place of solitude to do his experiments, until a rather disgruntled peer found him out. Cainnigon was then scorned (mostly by his father) and his things were taken away and he was once again thrown into the boring arts of ‘healing’. It wasn’t until one day when a very young child had accidentally fallen ill that Cainnigon’s passion was respected (well, a little). Cainnigon’s own father could not diagnose her, and it was Cainnigon who diagnosed her and cured her using his ‘outlawed’ knowledge and techniques. In this way, it was proven that while Cainnigon was researching things that were perhaps a bit dangerous and ‘contrary’ to healing… in addition to Cainnigon’s healing training, it proved a good combination. Cainnigon was then allowed to continue his research but was forced to also continue regular healing training by his father.
Other: Cainnigon also has a fire lizard companion called Rith. Rith is a tiny green fire-lizard (even compared to other green fire lizards). Despite her size however she seems rather protective of Cainnigon and rarely ever leaves his side. Cainnigon's impression was rather accidental. He had gone outside to collect some herbs and happened upon a clutch of eggs. Most of the fire lizards had already gone, but one lone green fire lizard remained- Rith. Upon seeing Cainnigon however, Rith immediatly sent a rather dramatic wave of happiness upon Cainnigon and hasn't been sad since.


Name: Larsith
Gender: Male
Colour: Bronze
Appearance: Larsith has a rather fiery bronze color, one to make you think of the ‘tiger’s eye’ rock. It seems to be a more mix of red and orange with an addition of a golden luster rather than bronze itself. Larsith is about ¾ a meter in length, being a good medium sized on the girth scale. Larsith by no means is large or small, but he likes to pretend he is a lot bigger than he is. The one thing upon him that perhaps IS a bit bigger than normal, would be his wingspan- but they’re usually tucked up happily upon his back anyways. Only when he gets really ‘COME ON’-like, does he flare his little wings out. To a flightless avail as of now. His eyes are usually a calm sea-green color, but Cainnigon often swears there is a fleck of yellow or red, even when Larsith seems happy as a clam.
Personality: Larsith makes an interesting companion for Cainnigon. Larsith tends to be rather proud and while he doesn’t have an ego… he definitely has a ‘feel good’ attitude about himself- to the point where Larsith will jump into situations that he probably can’t always handle. Still, Larsith makes up for Cainnigon’s lack of “let’s go on an adventure!” and often nudged Cainnigon to go a little out of his way for ‘ridiculous’ things. Larsith is the ‘bubbly’ to Cainnigon’s wine.

“This idea of yours… it is absolutely ridiculous. Did you get into my kit again?”
No. Stop tip-toeing your way around things! Just SMASH it in!!
__________________

Cainnigon AKA Cain
[ MALE… to be C’gon, Rider of Larsith ]
~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For approximately a week and a little over half a week added, Cainnigon had been in Bendon Weyr. It was a bit of a rush to get him there from Fort Hold but after everything had settled down it appeared he had a little more time than he intended to. It had been so random- at least, to Cainnigon it was random. (His father was quite proud, although slightly reluctant to release Cainnigon from the Hall, but he wasn’t about to risk the family honor or the honor of the Hold.)

Cain had been out on a few dangerous ledges collecting some rather rogue and selective herbs for the Hall. (Not to mention siding a few for his potions and personal experiments.) Upon returning, suddenly a large dragon had gracefully and quite swiftly landed beside him. The Bronze Rider atop of the impressive and magnificent beast was named T’gar. T’gar was part of the Search, and as soon as he had told Cainnigon that bit of news, Cain instantly had a feeling he was going to be thrown into one of those ‘adventure’ stories that he had always half-heartedly listened to.

Still, Cain’s mother was thrilled (which was to be expected) and the Hall was quite pleased as well. Cain mostly ignored their compliments or gossip, focusing on finishing his experiments before packing up and traveling to the Weyr. The travel was probably a bit more tedious than a normal traveler- for Cainnigon brought all of his experimentation kits and his supplies. His father had tried to talk Cain out of it, but Cainnigon remained politely stubborn and somehow managed to drag it all to Bendon.


The Weyr leaders were rather taken aback by his supplies, but soon had shown great hospitality to Cain. Cain politely excepted a slightly larger room (which they gave due to his supplies) and as always, attempted to make amends for the trouble he might have caused. Having met T’gar before, it was T’gar who had led him to his room and who Cain had spoken to.

“Please tell the Weyr leaders on my behalf, a great deal of thanks. I appreciate their generous hospitality and in return, I must insist that they call upon me if they need help in any matters involving my craft and hobby.”

“Ah, that’s right… you’re from the Healing Hall. I’ll be sure to spread the message. But if you don’t mind, what hobby of yours might they want aid of?”

“I have a particular interest in things pertaining to concoctions- potions, poisons… things of that manner. Quite fascinating.”

T’gar didn’t seem to have the same look on it however, for he said something short and soon left. Cainnigon was used to the response however, finding that not many found such things fascinating.


But after that, Cainnigon spent the rest of his time navigating about the Weyr mostly unnoticed. It could be said that Cainnigon went into areas he shouldn’t have at times, but to avoid glances (things that he usually attracted not out of disgust or amazement, but he just seemed to be a flame in darkness) he kept his cloak with an attached hood ready. He even asked around a bit, finding the names of several of the rider candidates purely out of curiousity (something Cain had plenty of).

But to present time, shall we?


Cain stood along with many of the other candidates. Everyone seemed to be dressed their best as the hot sun mercilessly beat down upon their standing bodies. A few had chosen to wear longer garbs, which proved to be a bad move. Cainnigon normally would have worn his beautiful deep ebon blue cloak-like jacket, but it was rather cumbersome and would have baked Cain into a human food group. Instead, Cainnigon (against his normal instincts) wore lighter tan-colored pants that were tailored well to his lower body’s contour. His feet were in nicely crafted sandals that stood well against the sand and heat. However, his upper body drew attention for he wore a white, form fitting tunic that had been carefully dyed along the edged to create a rim of light blue. It caused Cainnigon’s particularly dark handsome hair to pop out. This in turn, only caused the same effect within his entire figure. The dress change was enough to probably make a few wonder who he was (couldn’t possibly be that cloaked, billowing fellow who seemed a bit robust? Indeed, a billowy cloak caused the ‘robust’ effect… often not showing Cain’s tall and elegant figure.)


But, back to Cain and his observing and noticing every detail of the entire scene. The Queen candidates were standing around the grandest egg within the whole lot- a beautiful but quite large golden egg. Cain noticed one that had her head held a bit high- one known as Menela. Cain had heard, amongst the gossip in Bendon, that she was the most likely to be chosen as a Queen. He also took notice of the oddest one of the bunch, and based by appearance she matched the description of Rinna. She was the only one who seemed confident and bothered by the disease of stupidity around her.


Cain noticed countless more things- details that took him seconds to analyze within his fast paced mind. Kallev, Eideard, Tanellin, Garalin, Siglavy, Hayril… the names that popped into his mind upon a glance of a figure matching their attached description came into his mind. Cainnigon also watched a few of the spectators and the dragons, along with the coloring of the eggs.

Everyone was standing and waiting for the right moment… the resounding hum of the dragons buzzing within the very core of everyone’s body. During his time in the Weyr, Cainnigon grew accustomed to it and after one day of laying and concentrating upon the hum… he realized it had a sort of beat to it- a repeating theme that gradually changed.

Then it became dead silence. A very demandingly eerie feeling after being accustomed to the sound for so long. Then it all began- the eggs began to crack.

A few girlish screams rose into the air as the girls recoiled- something that Cainnigon almost bothered to show an expression to. (An expression that would have said, “hell, they’re rather bothersome with their shrieking and lame horrified expressions… please… ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous…”) As the little draclings began to emerge from their battle against the hard shell of their egg cages, Cain suddenly had a thought- perhaps this will be a bit rougher than most expected.

Indeed, Cain was right.

A few people were mauled… including the highly anticipated ‘queen’ Menela, but Cain deemed that it wasn’t much of a loss there. A hand was bit, a great deal of people were pushed to the side by marching draclings, while others almost backed completely out of the grounds from fear.

Cainnigon, being very “Cain”-like, stood in the same manner he had been from the beginning. He face was not expressionless, but held a remote calm look- his beautiful golden-green eyes scanning the area and analyzing every occurrence with an inner and perhaps morbid fascination. Many people had already been chosen by the little draclings, and Cain had watched as the one known as Tanellin was chosen by a rather dazzling blue. Beyond them, an egg had caught Cain’s attention.


At first glance, Cain felt an unfamiliar sensation rise within his stomach. Cain would have never spoken it aloud, but he felt almost as if the egg had called to him- no, more of demanded him to watch and look at it. The egg did not move. It did not shake. But suddenly, half of it seemed to crumpled outwards. A dragon head emerged as it continued thrashing upwards, cracking away the egg furiously and quite dramatically. The inner liquids of the egg spilled onto the hot sand, and where most draclings had tumbled or shown awkwardness… this one too followed suit. However, he was stubborn and proud about it- almost giving the false sense that he wasn’t clumsy at first. The dracling wasn’t large or small and his folded wings looked normal as well. In fact, everything looked positively normal about the dracling besides his odd shiny rust-fire like coloring. Yet, the dracling carried himself with a confident aura.

I’m strong! Hmm… he’s bigger than me.. but I’m stronger! I can be just as big too! Someone look at me! I’m just as good as everyone else!
Cainnigon watched as he continued to walk strongly forward, focusing hard to not stumble but yet to walk with a fast pace. Cain couldn’t help but admire the dracling’s confidence.

Someone is here for me too! I’m special too! I can feel him!
The bronze dracling brushed passed Tanellin and her blue, causing the blue to hiss but the bronze just kept marching forward. It was then that Cainnigon’s keen golden green eyes matched the same flickering green eyes of the bronze. Cainnigon fought to maintain his composure, as he felt his insides melt. He suddenly knew this dracling… and it was as if he were now marching proudly through the crowd.

You. You are me and I am you.
The dracling pushed through again, finally stopping to stand and stare upwards at Cainnigon.
You are quite right.
Of course! I am Larsith and you are C’gon.

Cain didn’t bother to argue. He heard that the name of chosen riders were shortened by their dragon partners. And here Cain was, chosen by a handsome bronze dracling. It was definitely the beginning of some fanciful tale… sometimes Cain wondered if fate worked to push him in waters he preferred to avoid.

Greetings Larsith. Now what would a strong, handsome dragon want?
Food!!
Cain’s mind spun for a bit at the force of the demand, but he gave a nod and soon T’gar had found him. T’gar commented on the bronze- noting how its wings looked rather large for a newly hatched dragon. (Something Cainnigon had not noticed since they were folded.) T’gar then directed Cainnigon to the feeding grounds.


Cainnigon saw the other newly chosen riders and took note of them all. He then turned his gaze as the other draclings bit at the herdbeasts or tentatively took them down. However, Cain couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as Larsith didn’t bite or maul… but basically plowed into a herdbeast. Not just a regular herdbeast, but the largest one.

Isn’t that a big… large for you? Cain thought, but Larsith soon had ripped the neck clean as the animal stumbled from Larsith’s earlier… tackle.
Never! I can eat and take down creatures far larger than this!!
With that, Larsith gorged himself with flesh until his belly was round and he more or so waddled then walked.


When the feeding was done, Larsith announced that he wanted to sleep. (Never admitting he was tired but persistently saying it was just expected.) So Cainnigon and Larsith were led to a Weyr, and Cain absently thought of how he would have to move his things yet again. Still, Cainnigon was strangely content. He watched as Larsith stumbled onto his large stone couch and immediately curled up and closed his eyes. Cainnigon rested on the bed, deciding that sleep was the best option for now. Perhaps a nap.
I like you, C’gon. Your eyes are like mine.
“Thank you Larsith… I think we’ll be make splendid companions too. It would be ridiculous to think otherwise.”

[Prof. Jb Wolf]

Name: Inigo Enrique Falzon
Gender: Male
Age: 18
(Current) Location: Plains of Keroon
Heritage: Bastard son of a Lord Holder and Servant Chela
Appearance: Stands at an average height of 5'9" with a toned, athletic build. His skin is well tanned from days spent in the sun. Tatoos are visible on his arms and back. His handsome features are only marred by the black leathery eye patch that covers much of the upper left-half of his face. The visible eye is a dark reddish brown and his shaggy golden brown hair is worn long, just past the nape of his neck. Most of it is tied back into a tail with the bangs left to frame his face. A thin braid tied in red, gold, and black extends from the left. His face also has a permenent stubble, always looking as if he's in need of a quick shave. He normally wears a baggy sleeved, white shirt (like the ones pirates wear) and brown trousers underneath short-sleeved crimson jacket. Right arm and shoulder are covered in a flexible, hide for protective purposes, the area around the forearms reinforced with inlaid iron. Always carries a variety of trinkets around his neck including various lock-picking tools, a real silver cross, copious amounts of beads, and animal fangs. He also keeps a variety of blades on his person, including throwing daggers in his belt, a knife hidden in his boot, another under his bracer, and his most treasured possession - a scimitar made of real steel.
Personality: Boisterous and cocky, Inigo is a fiery young man in the prime of his life. He is very vocal about his opinions and isn't afraid to speak his mind, which has gotten him in trouble more than once. As well, he's a shameless flirt and with his good looks has had many women fall victim to his charms. He's a good fighter and relishes challenging opponents. Though reckless, he knows when he's in over his head and when the time comes for surrendering.
History: Born the bastard son of a married Holder, he and his mother were exiled and left Holdless to avoid scandal. For a few years the two wandered from Hold to Hold, but found no place to call home. When Inigo was five, they were accosted by bandits in the mountains north of the Keroon plains. The two were shocked to find that the bandits' leader was her brother Kamino. They were welcomed into Kamino's clan and Inigo himself was made an apprentice bandit. At the age of thirteen he was offically allowed to take part in raiding parties and attacks.

During his second foray, he was split from the gang and ended up hiding among a certain herder's sheep. He's grown fond of this hiding spot and often retreats there after even the most successful raids. He's apparently made grudging friend out of Sig, a lover in her sister, and a younger brother in Reuxus.

His uncle Kamino, the self proclaimed King of Gypsies, was recently slain and left the Crimson Lotus Bandits in Inigo's mother's care.
Other: His fighting and drinking skills were actually taught to him by his mother, whose anger at being thrown away like some cheap whore has left her bitter.

Inigo Enrique Falzon
~Prince of the Gypsies~

It is said that a bandit's path is fraught with peril and danger (more often than not a consequence of their choices in life.) For Inigo Enrique Falzon, that path had yet to lead him into a situation he could not think, fight, or run from. Even now, facing either a rather vicous mauling from a very angry queen dragonet or a long time in prison, the rogue was quite confident of his ability to escape. The only thing was he had yet to think of how.

His single eye roved over his surroundings as he assessed his options It finally came to a stop as he noticed Reu, the child fidgeting slightly as he nervously watched his 'Ini-bro' "Ah, that's it." Inigo's hand discreetly moved towards his belt, causing the golden dragon to growl at him threateningly. "Now now goldie, no need to get your tail in a bunch I'm just getting a snack to eat."

Inigo produced what seemed to be a large dark-shelled nut. "Whaddya say, a gift and you don't maul me?" The dragonet seemed to grow angrier at his attempt to placate her and bared her fangs at the rogue. Putting on a hurt face the rogue seemed to droop slightly. "No? Well then no good letting a perfectly good treat go to waste."

He raised the nut towards his mouth as if to eat it, before suddenly before throwing hard at the ground between them. The shell broke upon impact, noxious gray smoke billowing out from within. Originally made by Reux to flush out rodents and other small undesirable creatures, the smoke was irritating yet non-lethal to creatures of a larger size. Tamanth reared back as her nostrils and eyes began to sting, allowing Inigo to leap past her towards Sig'lavy's bed.

The smoke was quickly filling the cavern, making Inigo's vision hazy as his eye also began to burn from the effects. Quickly gathering up Sig'lavy (blanket and all), he made a run for the cavern entrance. "C'mon along little brother we must make a hasty retreat!" He yelled towards the blurry, blonde-haired figure near it.

Without a backwards glance the bandit rushed out the door and into the corridor beyond. Wiping at his face to clear way any ill-effects of the smoke, he began moving along the corridors with Sig'lavy's struggling form thrown over his shoulder. He quickly made his way through the barracks, flitting quietly from shadow to shadow listening for any sign of pursuit. "Well, looks like we made a clean getaway eh Reu?" There was no answer. "Reu?"

Inigo looked about finally realizing that his childish partner was not with him. "By the shells...." He cursed silently under his breath as he tried to shift the struggling figure on his shoulder. "If you'd kindly stop your squirming Sig, I'll let you out of the blankets. And now it seems I have to go back for Reu..."

She stopped struggling for the moment and Inigo gingerly put her down, removing the sheet. A fist flew, impacting hard against the bandit's face. He stumbled back with a yelp of pain as a foot embedded itself in his stomach. "THAT'LL TEACH YOU FOR TRYING TO KIDNAP ME YOU BASTARD!"

Groaning in pain as he gripped his stomach, Inigo looked up. The girl staring back at him with the angry, flaming eyes was not the one he was suppose to have. "Your...not...Sig'lavy...."

"No I'm not, I'm T'lin and I-" She stopped and cocked her head as if listening before smirking darkly. "Your about to get into a lot of trouble."

As the bandit pondered what she meant, a loud cry echoed in the halls. It was the trumpet of a rather angry dragonet searching for the man who had just kidnapped his rider. Discretion being the better part of valor and not wanting to deal with another angry dragonet, Inigo took off running in the opposite direction. The girl gave chase, cursing at him and telling him to stay and take his punishment like a man.

******************

Stopping to catch his breath, Inigo slumped against a nearby fence. After being chased by guards, two angry dragonets, and their respective riders for the better part of an hour, the rogue had found his way outside. Hiding amidst the cattle there, he was able to elude capture once again. Sighing dejectedly, Inigo looked up at the night sky and idly wondered why livestock seemed to make such great hiding spots. "Bah, no time to be thinking about that. Now I have to figure out how to save Sig'lavy AND Reux...."

"I don't believe you'll be doing either." A smooth voice drawled from behind Inigo. The bandit leapt to his feet, his hand dropping immediately towards his sword. Little good that it would do him as M'lin and his dragon seemed to appear out of thin air. "Yes. We have a nice dry cell for you and it would be terribly rude of you if you didn't stay the night."

Snorting, Inigo looked the rider in the eye. "Well at least I don't have to hide behind some giant overgrown lizard to fight." His brown hissed in angry, eyes swirling an angry red. "Why don't you come down here and we'll settle this like men. Or is that piece of steel around your waist nothing more than a deadweight?"

"Hmph, this coming from a man willing to take innocent females hostage."

"There were...extenuating circumstances at the time. But if you are so confident in your skill, then perhaps a wager? If you win the duel, I go with no trouble. But if I win, you free my friends and let us leave this place in peace!"

"While I don't normally deal with bandit scum, I suppose I'll humor you this once." He dismounted from his dragon, sending a silent telepathic command to Sirrelath to eat the bandit if he tried anything funny.

Smirking Inigo drew his sword and fell into a ready stance. "Come then, show me whether or not you can wield that rusty pi-pi...piece of..." A cold chill went down and his words becammed slurred and sluggish. "..*YAWN*...I can'...setand...straigh..."

Spinning around Inigo saw a dark robed figure standing before him a hand raised. "Y-y-you...chea..." With that he collapsed to the ground in a heap, snoring softly as Cainnogon's sleep poison went into effect.

[Bulbasaur4]

Cain AKA C'gon
Rider of Larsith

The commotion from outside his room would have been enough to wake Cainnigon from his bed, if he had been sleeping. However, like usual he had filled his quota for sleep and was now organizing his various organic supplies while creating a few bottled liquids. Now being a dragon rider, he figured it would be smart to create some potions that were specifically designed for dragons. Especially potions regarding indigestion problems… considering Larsith did indeed eat a great deal. Cainnigon found that Larsith struck him as the type to not really engage thinking when eating a meal… or anything for that matter.

“What absurd things could be happening…” Cain said to himself as he walked out of his room and began walking towards the noise. He had instantaneously grabbed his regular cloak, so not to be a further disturbance and catch attention. Swiftly and nimbly, Cain discovered that there was a man- a man who proudly and loudly announced himself as Inigo Enrique Falzon. From what Cainnigon gathered (when he put two and two togther), he was here to rescue someone. The only good he seemed to do however… was attracted a lot of attention which caused him to not only be chased by the Queen dragonet, but also another dragon rider and her dragon. Eventually he escaped outside… unnoticed, well, rather what he thought to be unnoticed.
Cain watched from the shadows as he gathered himself but then was addressed by the dragon rider M’lin and his dragon. Words were exchanged… words that led to the one known as Inigo challenging M’lin to a duel.
“I highly doubt that the leaders of Bendon Weyr want such events taking place…” Cainnigon thought, raising a brow.
That human is loud… he woke me up. C’gon, why did you follow him? Cain looked down to see his bronze dragon had followed and Larsith was sleepily blinking away.
Curiosity… I have a great deal of it I suppose.
Oh! This human and the rider are going to battle! I want to join! I want to join! I want to I want to I want to!
Cain sighed.
No… actually I think I’ll try to intervene so no battle will take place. Beside, even if the other guy beats the dragon rider… the dragon will only end up attacking him.
YAY!!
Cain sighed yet again and patted Larsith on the head.
Just watch and stay here.

With that, C’gon reached into his cloak and amongst the three bottles hanging within the deep pocket of his cloak, he pulled out one. C’gon also reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small, pointed needle-like piece of wood. Dipping one end into the bottle, he then sealed the bottle and put it away. Quietly and cautiously, while Inigo was loudly talking to M’lin, C’gon walked towards him. It wasn’t long until he swiftly pricked the back of Inigo’s neck in a fashion that most could not feel. Almost instantly Inigo began slurring his words and swaying.
“Three… two…” Cain whispered, as Inigo whirled around and saw Cain. He mumbled something, but instantly fell over as Cain uttered “…one.” He then was snoring quite soundly, almost matching the same tone in which he spoke.
“Thank you…” M’lin trailed off, but Cain took his hood and pushed it downwards to expose his head.
“It’s C’gon… and you are M’lin.” Cain said with a nod, as Larsith scampered up to him.
“Ah, well thank you C’gon. While I don’t mind battling someone like him… it would have caused too much ruckus in the middle of this night. Especially after the hatching.”
“I thought so as well.” Cain said, looking down at the figure. “I’ll be off now… leaving this ridiculous but curious fellow to you.” With that, Cain wandered off.

What are you gonna do now?! Larsith asked expectantly, now clearly awake and ready for action.
I am going to go talk to the one known as Siglavy… I saw her up tonight before with Inigo’s presense.
Siglavy? Funny name!! Can we call her Siggy?
You may call her Siggy. I shall call her by which name she wishes to be addressed by.
Cainnigon and Larsith soon found Siglavy, for she was walking along one of the paths within the Weyr. Her eyes met Cainnigon as he swiftly stopped. Her brown dragonet was next to her, staring at Larsith quizzically.
“Ah, greetings Siglavy I presume.” Cain said swiftly.
SIGGY!
Cain kept his composure despite Larsith’s persistant happy croons.
“My name is Cain… or as I am now known as, C’gon. I was looking for you because I believe you have a connection with the man known as Inigo Enrique Falzon? In any case… I figured I could inform you as to his happenings. I figure it would benefit you.”



[I’m not sure how to play Siglavy yet… so that is why I left out dialogue from her. Yi, you can insert any dialogue you wish between his sentences. ^_^; ]

[Hyperness is a Good Thing]

wasn't sure if Pernese dragons were aware of their siblings but oh well >.>
and rather meaningless post with zip character interaction. =.= Not up to it right now, will try it in my next post when everyone has rped a little more and I get a feel of the other characters ^^U

eideard "e'ded" || kraellath

Kraellath was done eating, but E'ded soon discovered that his young charge, no, companion, chattered ceaselessly, even when eating. He was starting to wonder if she chattered in her sleep too, and his idle musings found their answer when they returned to the sleeping quarters. It was sudden quiet, and it was almost eerie. After getting noise nonstop in his mind for what had seemed like a long time, he now felt uncomfortable even. If it weren't for the bond he felt with Mister Bobbles even now, why, madness would descend he was sure.

So this is why dragon riders kill themselves when their dragons die, he realised. It came to him, though he had already known it somehow, that the moon would turn green, or mauve, or violet or whatever, before he would ever leave her, before jhe could leave her.

The feelings that rushed through him were overwhelming, painful even, and Kraellath felt them, even in her sleep. She twitched a little on her stone couch, and moaned a little.

He fell asleep just watching her, peace filling his whole being just having her near him.

****

He woke up with an explosive whoof later on, feeling many pounds of young dragon land right on his chest.

E'DED E'DED E'DED E'DED E'DED!!!!

Sitting up was currently out of the question and he had some difficulty breathing, he answered her in his mind, instead of aloud as he would normally prefer to.

Mister Bobbles, before anything, I would like you to keep this fixed in your mind-

What is it? Is it something important? You're gonna say something that going to impact me dreadfully? DON'T YOULOVE ME ANYMORE? Or is it because I wouldn't give you the head of the herdbeast earlier on when I was eating? What did I do wrong?

My adorations are at your feet and I have already constructed an altar to you in my heart but...

What? What? What???

She stood up on her hindlegs, her weight centered around the region of his stomach to his barely hidden groan, and suddenly, leapt off, much to his relief.

BROTHER!!!!!!! she cried, pouncing on a nearby Blue who had just woken up and was lolling about on his couch.

E'ded couldn't hear what the other dragon said to her, but he could see what was happening - the blue was obviously not happy with Mister Bobbles at all, no he was not. She dropped of the couch, inches away from a quick snap of his jaws. Crouching, she crawled a little, and suddenly, as he was settling down again for a few more minutes of sleep, leapt onto him, voice a high shriek at the same time.

He had never seen a dragon both spooked and incensed at the same time, but he had the opportunity to witness it now. The blue was irritated, and his rider, likewise. Both darted particularly venomous glares at E'ded who gave them his best innocent look.

Kraellath scrambled around, half hopping and half flying, greeting her brethren it seemed, if her mindchatter was anything to go by, generally having the time of her life.

In fact, there seemed to be some big commotion involving some man taking the queen's rider hostage and all, but while everyone stared at that, E'ded was too busy watching how Kraellath reacted to everything. For some reason, she had quieted down, and when the queen dragonet put up quite an entertaining chase, he could see that Kraellath was getting excited, why, she was almost hopping up and down. She was still oddly silent, as if listening to the words that passed through the air.

When the man was cornered, E'ded had to stop himself from applauding. Kraellath on the other hand was considering approaching the queen. However, all her plans and otherwise were foiled when the bandit staged a daring escape, filling the cavern with a noxious gas.

Sighing to have his show ended so quickly, he wandered out, not bothering to check if Mister Bobbles was following. He knew that she would catch up, eventually, and when a cold snout hit the back of his legs a few seconds later, he smiled.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

I apologize for the supreme crappiness and omnipresent dialogue of this post, if I mis-RPed Reuxus and also if it does not make much sense. It's 4 in the morning and I wanted to get this over with quickly... blargh.

Siglavy
Myrreth
"The hurry-things-along post"

"Um.. yes. I was looking for him... that goose..." Siglavy cocked her head to one side, missing C'gon's mild amusement at the sheer preposterousness of a bandit being called a goose. "I wouldn't have bothered but Reu here-" she indicated the fair-haired boy hiding behind her, together with Myrreth - "was worried about silly 'Nigo."

"Ah, yes. I have incapacitated him and put him in the care of the Dragonhealer. He is a friend of yours, is he not?"

What a very capable young man this is. Quite the opposite of me. And also of that bandit, whose kidnap attempt you were overly disappointed to see fail.

Be quiet, Myrreth.

You're thinking it. You're thinking it very loudly. Even my friend can hear it. Here, Myrreth nuzzled his tail ribbon protectively, before returning to his original position, peering out between Siglavy's legs.

Lies, Myrreth, lies and deceit.

Tugging at Siglavy's hand, Reuxus asked, "'Scuse me, Sig-sis? Why are you so quiet? 'Nigo-bro is our friend, right?"

C'gon raised an eyebrow. "Or are you merely communicating with your dragon?"

Siglavy directed a disapproving stare towards Myrreth, who had the grace not to meet it.

"At any rate, I think it is time we retire for the night," said C'gon absently. He seemed to be intensely interested in a vial that Reuxus was trying to pour down Myrreth's protesting throat, his dragonet appearing to cheer the young alchemist on. Siglavy followed his gaze and halted the mistreatment of her dragon post-haste, after which Myrreth clung to her more desperately than ever, firmly believing that all humans except his future Rider were out to engineer his demise in as many different and inventive ways as possible. "The Dragonhealer will deal with Mr Falzon as he sees fit..."

"I should look for the Weyrwoman," Siglavy mused. "She needs to know that Reu is here... and she'd need to arrange for him to be sent home."

"I don't want to be sent home! What about Nigo-bro! They'll lock him in prison and torture him or maybe even kill him!" Reuxus flailed out of Siglavy's grip, unintentionally letting his vial fall to the ground in the sudden action.

There was a clink.

And then a BOOM.

As the smoke cleared, Siglavy could hear an authoritative voice saying, most indignantly: "WHAT is this malarky?! First they say there's a gypsy lurking round, causing trouble, and there IS indeed a gypsy lurking about and causing trouble; as if that wasn't enough, here I have before me the scene of an explosion. I demand an explanation!"

A tall, strapping woman came into view, her face somewhat blackened and hair frizzled. She frowned at Reuxus, who was attempting to tidy up the shards of the incriminating glass vial. "I know you, Dragonrider C'gon, and you, Dragonrider Sig, but who is this boy?!"

"J-Journeyman Reuxus, miss, K-Keroon Hold." Tears began to form in the cringing boy's eyes. "I, I'm very sorry for what happened - I didn't know it would blow up - it was a new compound I was working on, to improve the constitution-" Here he broke down. "They aren't going to kill Nigo-bro, are they?! I didn't make the wall explode on purpose! D-don't punish him because of me!"

Weyrwoman Tylana's anger diffused slightly at this disarming sight, though she did not completely lose her wits as lesser others would have: she was a Weyrwoman, and exemplary among her kind, and such sorts are not as vulnerable to quivering lip and large blue eyes as the average female. "We'll sort all this out in the morning. Until then I wish there to be NO explosions or disturbances of any kind whatsoever on the premises of Benden Weyr. And that is final."

After this post it will be the next morning... yeeees... ignore my lack of description of the rest of the night... *drops into bed*

[Mystic_clown]

T'lan
---------------------------------

"So, what do you think of the world so far?"

T'lan laid back in his cot as Burganth sat on his rock, nawing the flesh off the bone of a small creature he had been dining on.

I find it quite strange, quite interesting.

His brown eyes looked over his rider.

I find you quite strange and interesting.

T'lan cocked an eyebrow.

"Strange? How?"

I've seen how the other humans treat us. They treat us as if we're some kind of sovereignity, yet you treat my just like every other human.

T'lan simply shrugged.

"Well, that's because you're my friend little dude."

Your friend?

"Well, since I'm your rider, we're going to be spending a lot of time together, so we might as well be friends."

There is some logic to that. Alright, as I am your friend, you are mine.

T'lan chuckled softly as Burganth looked over to the door to their chambers.

Shouldn't we check out that loud sound we heard before?

T'lan sighed.

"We could, or we could just sit here and relax."

I still think we should investigate.

T'lan sighed. He wasn't normally a guy who would give in easily, but knowing that opting to stay would just lead to Burganth continuously telling him to go. So he figured he may as well go.

"Alright Burganth," he said, standing up, "Let's go."

[Weasel Overlord]

A short interlude. Parts two and three will be edited in as soon as I've finished them! ^_^ Many MANY profuse apologies for the delay. Home keeps me busy, it seems.

M’lin

Sirrelath

~

Being the jailer to an unruly and damn right rude bandit was not M’lin’s idea of a good time, and he sighed under his breath as Inigo hurled yet another insult at him.

“Just because you have a bloody shiny dragon, doesn’t mean you get to steal my woman you smug bastard.”

“Your woman? Rinna is no-one’s woman, and most definitely not yours. Give me your knife.”

“What makes you think I have a knife?”

“You took our new Queen rider hostage with it.”

“Your powers of deduction amaze me, Marilyn.” He slapped the knife into M’lin’s outstretched hand.

“And the rest.” Inigo attempted to look innocent, but only succeeded in looking extremely shifty.

“Oh fine. I’d better get those back, you bloody thieving bastard.” He pulled a multitude of knives from his belt, his braces, and finally bent down to tug a pair from his boots, and a last one from his thigh.

“You’re the one who attempted to kidnap our dragonlady, bandit. And you did a terrible job of it too.” M’lin stifled a laugh as he wrapped all the knives carefully in a piece of wherryhide.



“Now, we’re probably going to be here a long while, so you might as well sit down and make yourself comfortable or something.” He gestured to the cold stone of the cell they were both in with a grimace.

Shards, this man is irritating. I wish you could have just trampled him right there and then, Sirrelath.

I would have too, you know. I have no qualms about squashing bandits. In fact, I find it quite the relaxing pastime of an evening.

Hah. And this one would be all the better for a bit of mauling, I reckon.

Oh, definitely. Sirrelath paused, as if he was thinking about something intently. I could make it look like an accident… M’lin laughed out loud, and Inigo looked at him venomously.

“What, exactly, is funny about this situation, Mr. I-have-a-dragon-which-automatically-makes-me-amazing?”

M’lin shot him a withering glance and turned to face the outer corridor, hoping for rescue by the Weyrleaders soon, before Sirrelath tramped into the cell and bit the bandit in half.

“So when are we leaving this dingy hole, Marilyn?” Inigo looked up from his seat on the floor.

“If you keep on calling me Marilyn, 'Nigo, I’m afraid that I cannot be held responsible for Sirrelath’s actions. And we’ll be leaving as soon as the Weyrwoman decides it is time for you to be dealt with. And believe me, that time can’t come soon enough.”

[Weasel Overlord]

Double-posting, I know! Le gasp! And yes, it took a while to get this written. Work, &c. &c.

Tylana

Nemath

*

Explosions, bandits, relations and more bandits. Tylana was sick and tired of the entire situation. She was tired of the disbelieving Weyrs, the sceptical Holders, and especially the destructive bandits and mercenaries who were floating around in such hordes lately.

She had been incensed at first, when she learned of the bandit Inigo’s attempted kidnapping, but once her judgement had been tempered with a Weyrwoman’s steel, she saw more clearly the situation.

And it was a dangerous one indeed.

It was but a Turn before when Benden had first received the threats from the main bandit group, and they had been regular ever since. Tylana feared that they would use this disturbance as the perfect opportunity, and snatch her away before anything could be done. For all Benden’s attempts at keeping the peace, and spreading the old Harper teachings of Thread and it’s destructive ways, the dissenters still refused to believe any of it.

Thread was not here now, they reasoned, and it hadn’t fallen for over two hundred Turns now. How could it possibly still be out there, after such a large amount of time? No, they argued. There was no way that Thread could ever fall again. Which made Dragonriders dispensable. They were no longer needed. Pern’s only defence against Thread was obsolete, if Thread was truly extinct.

But if that was true, then why did each and every History warn of the dread spores? Tylana had spent hours, nay, days, poring over ancient, crumbling Records with the vaguest hope that there would be some mention of Thread dying out, but to no avail. Each and every Threadfall up until the current Interval had been usual. None had been shorter than normal, or contained less of the tunnelling menace.

At least Benden could count on the Harpers’ support. Harper Hall was so immersed in the Records that it could scarcely ignore the threat of Thread; even if it hadn’t fallen for so long.

Nemath’s clutches had been growing steadily in size ever since she was old enough to mate. More and more Dragons filled Benden Weyr, as if they were preparing instinctually for Threadfall.

Tylana shook her head wearily. She had sent the Dragonhealer, M’lin, to watch over the bandit, but she had no ideas what to do with him. Leaving him to rot in a cell could only serve to inflame already frayed tempers, but if she let him go, it might promote thinking that Weyrwoman Tylana of Benden was weak-willed. And if he was in contact with the bandits who had threatened her with kidnap, she would be sending him straight back into their hands along with first-hand knowledge of Benden Weyr, its numbers, defence and layout.

Unless… If she could keep the bandit Inigo and the child, Reuxus, here in the Weyr and safely under her wing, perhaps they could be of some use. Not captive; no. That wouldn’t do. But not guests either. That would cause a scandal among the Dragonriders after the attempted kidnap of Rinna and the fiasco with all the explosions.

Yes. He would stay at the Weyr, under Tylana’s close and watchful eye.

She set her face into a neutral expression and strode down the corridor to inform M’lin and Inigo-the-bandit.

[Plantae]

= On Matters of Friendship and Expense =

He was finally going home, and he most certainly had misgivings. He had visited only once through his entire apprenticeship, for a month, though he did send letters to his father. That, however, was years ago, and he was curious, perhaps, if anything had changed. He knew his home, though, and Kgakala never seemed to. The mining went on and on, his sisters covered in dust of various pigments that never seemed to fully wash off, and him a stranger to it all. He realized, though, that the scheme of things would shift soon. His father on his deathbed, the business would have to pass to one of his children, as his mother knew nothing at all about how to run it. She occupied herself with other projects, most of them illegal, and everybody at Kgakala knew it. But it had always been an unspoken rule that what one hears at his cothold, one should soon forget. Last time he was there, it had been something about a war between Holders, one with which he was unconcerned.

By foot, the trip was hellish, so they stopped at the home of an old acquaintance to get horses. Nemaran had been his father's friend, but he had given up the mining business and started a fertile farm and breeding center for fine runnerbeasts. Despite his success, he was fond of simplicity and a bit cheap, so Lehana was unsurprised to see that the old buildings, made of now-rotting wood boards and the sweat of back-breaking work, still standing and in use. Given how well his father had known the man, he thought it best; with what little time they had, he knocked on the front door.

The door, with one hinge having fallen off, inched open with a hateful creak and a startled voice yelled, "Lehana, Pele! Come in, come in!" The door flung wide, the stout, short, sandy-haired Nemaran beckoned them inside. "You just along to the kitchen, now." Lehana followed, grabbing Pele, who was childishly distracted by a large tabby cat; Nemaran hated the animals, but the cats belonged to his wife. He had fallen in love with Briallen while his business floundered, and though she had married him the same, she had insisted on two things for the trouble of wedding a man of such insecure finances: firstly, that she could keep a vast garden in the back of the house, and secondly, that she could have any animal she liked. After several years the business was a success, but the house remained with the smell of primroses and its ever-changing pride of felines.

In the kitchen, Briallen was putting on tea, perking up as she heard them enter. She had something of a predisposition to long flowing gowns, and wore one now in deep azure with a fuchsia behind her ear and her russet-colored hair in a tight bun. As she brought over a plate of both teapot and pastries, she stooped to miss the shoddy workmanship of a slightly slanted ceiling by inches; with her willowy frame, she was taller than Nemaran and in public, no one seemed to let them forget their embarrassment.

After taking seats about a mahogany table with one side slightly shorter than the other, Nemaran asked, "So what brings you here, my boy?"

Not wasting any time, he gave with abrupt frankness, "We need two horses. We're good to bring them back, you know." The man across the table sunk a little in his seat. Nemaran loathed letting go of even a single horse, but Lehana was counting on him saying yes before he had to tell them why they were in such a hurry to get home. Of course, things he counted on never worked out, at least in these situations.

To that end, Briallen piped up, halfway through a bite of apple turnover, "What's the rush? Though I suppose that walk is terrible," she laughed a little at herself. Lehana was distracted by the mashed apple which dribbled down her chin ever-so-daintily. Though she looked like one, walked like one, and talked like one occasionally, she was no lady. That being said, he was glad she'd answered her own question.

"I would be satisfied with any two runnerbeasts, whatever you can spare," Lehana continued, forcefully. Nemaran, unfortunately, started to catch on.

"Something urgent, is it, boy?" Given how much he detested being called "boy," Lehana couldn't bring himself to answer immediately. He took a bite of turnover, which he laboriously chewed, and a sip of tea, which he savored briefly. At the end of a long silence, he realized he would have to answer the question.

No reason to be subtle, mother always said, though he wished, as he spoke, he had not just taken her advice, "Father's on his deathbed." Briallen gasped, covering it with her hand, and Nemaran nearly dropped his cup. It was what he had feared: no one had told them yet. Father always thought that if he told anyone about his problems, he would be overburdening them, and mother could not help but forget to send letters to some of his long list of friends.

"Have the healers-" Nemaran began, spluttering.

Briallen interrupted to ask, sincerely, "Is he in any-?"

Lehana, cutting them both off, muttered, "Every healer in Kgakala and some from out of it came to see him. He's already gone. Whatever it is, it has a grip of his body already. He had told me he was feeling a bit weak, months ago, but you know him; never wants to get in the way, never wants to be an inconvenience. If he's in pain, I have no idea. Probably quite a bit, but I am sure we would all hope otherwise." He paused, asserted his right to speak and continued in a forward manner, "Please visit, as I am sure he would like to see the both of you. But we need those horses, now."

In a flurry of an hour, they were on horses and waving a somber goodbye to the couple. On the roads here, travel was easy. They had yet to reach the steppes and the rocky hills which they would have to traverse, unpaved and unguarded. There was a reason, he remembered, as they began to cross one such plain, that Kgakala was a haven for bandits. It was cold, blisteringly so in winter, and extremely hard to get to. Getting back was easy enough, as with one steep climb up the valley, it became a downhill trek that took little more than a few days to traverse at normal pace.

By nightfall, they had made scarcely any progress, but to Pele's discomfort, they rode on through the dusk hours until the world around grew a pitch black which, without her directions, they would have gotten easily lost. In lands like these, that was nearly a death sentence without proper protection. Hostile creatures, big and small, roamed the flats and hunted one another in an endless cycle of predator and prey. Predators which, when the chance became available, were all too keen to hunt human. Tonight, it was unnervingly quiet; at one point the horses spooked, and a shadow slunk away from their path, though Lehana could not tell if it was intimidated or simply disinterested.

As they came on to one of the few worn paths in the place, an arrow fell two feet off his sister's runnerbeast's front foot. It bucked underneath her, and in one quick motion, she had a mouthful of dirt. Before Lehana could scoop her up and ride on, as better one horse and them both alive than two, a multitude of ethereal figures melted out of the woods. One of them held the reins of Pele's horse, and the rest brandished daggers and bows. It was hard to count at this hour, but he guessed there were probably seven of them. Preempting his attempt to dislodge his quarterstaff, one boomed, "Drop your weapons," and when he kept reaching and a bowstring tightened, "Now!" Seething and hateful, Lehana did so anyway, leaving the dagger strapped to his ankle. Someone said, "All of them," as he did so, and the group snickered. Unarmed, he stood to face his attackers, who were now searching Pele and relieving her of several pieces of jewelry, probably presents from her "sweethearts;" he had no sympathy.

They were masked and ragged, and he was right, seven of them. He took out an old watch and threw it on the ground with a handful of change, and raised his arms to let one of the figures search his person; he did so, quickly and violently. As the bowmen around him relaxed foolishly, chattering amongst themselves, he kneed the man in the face and heard his nose crack. The bowmen came to attention, but not before he had the man's own dagger to his throat. One of the shapes mumbled, "Wouldn't do that if I were you." He ducked, on instinct, and an arrow whizzed over where the back of his head had been just seconds before. They'd left one of their men in the woods. He dropped the dagger, and backed up, putting his captured horse in the line of fire before himself.

The unspoken spokesperson of the highwaymen laughed and said, "Who are you?" Lehana's lip curled in defiance as Pele was grabbed, not all too kindly or appropriately, by one of the bandits.

As his nearby companion chuckled when Pele relented- which, given the circumstances, was an inconvenient time for her to start being choosy- Lehana stated, lucidly, "I am Lehana of Kgakala, son of Leboa and Nyama." To his good fortune, the eyes of the bandit flashed with recognition.

"Nyama! That old hag still alive, is she? Ha-hah! Married no less, and with child." The rest of the group, following their leader's example, also found this very amusing.

"Five children," he mumbled, as he painfully thought, 'Well, four now.' Depending on how this played out, it might not have been so curious that he thought of Leutupua in that moment. He gestured at Pele, more or less as an afterthought, "This is my sister, Pele."

"Oh-ho-ho! Well that changes things, no? Well, Nyama's son, just give us everything you own, and you can be on your way. He boiled with rage as he noted that his sister hadn't been included in this "professional" courtesy. She seemed to notice too, and she kicked against her captors, who muffled her imminent scream with a rag.

"And my sister, she'll with you unharmed?" He could feel the man's grin on him, despite the cloth that obscured his mouth. It was the sort of smile that said, "More or less."

"We'll keep the little flower intact," he answered, with a wave of the hand; he was in for a surprise if he thought Pele was anything like dainty. Then he chuckled, "Though we might have to break her spirit." The rest of the group laughed with him, and Lehana felt a wave of disgust. He had gotten that feeling again, as if his blood was on fire, as if his heart was beating ten times faster. He shook it off, and nodded assent. There was nothing else to do. He'd get himself killed if he tried anything.

When they left, Lehana was glad, at least, that they seemed to have dropped his quarterstaff. It was bulky and mostly valueless, so though it was unexpected, he was unsurprised considering their feverish distraction. A lot of good it would do him, alone on the road, with the sun coming up over the trees and not a horse to his name. As dawn became noonday, the sun beat down on his bottled rage, which twisted and grew cancerous in response.