The following is a log of roleplay on Threadfall MUSH, logged by Zarvind.
All references to the world and characters of Pern™ based on Anne McCaffrey's fiction are copyrightę 1967 by Anne McCaffrey, all rights reserved. The Dragonriders of Pern« is registered U.S. Patent and Trademark Office, by Anne McCaffrey and used here with permission.


Cast: N'ait, Zarvind, Crisa, Jalani

Southern Bowl - Ista Weyr
    Spread out along the larger end of the caldera, this end of the bowl is significantly larger than that which lies just beyond the small inlet of two feet of craggy mountains that creep down to form an incomplete partition. The walls of the ancient volcano, long-since slumbering inactive, spread upward with sheer cliffaces that reach into the sky, their outlines reminiscent of four pointed fingers and a thumb. Activity bustles in this area at nearly all hours of the day with dragons or people coming and going throughout the bowl on various errands.
    Tucked into the southernmost wall are the living caverns, the gaping tunnel that leads within illuminated by the glowbaskets set within; just beside this is a larger entrance that leads to the dragon infirmary. The Hatching grounds are found in this area, with a tunnel a ground level just large enough to allow passage for an egg-heavy Queen and a larger, gaping entrance in the side of the mountain for draconic spectators to enter. Numerous weyrs dot the mountainside and the ground in this area, some darkened and some illuminated from within.
Contents:
Mamonth
Meriath
Iskandith
J'sen
Zianneth(#258JOaepqs$)
Obvious exits:
Infirmary  Caverns Tunnel  Ground Weyrs  Hatching Grounds   Northern Bowl

It is currently late at night on day 9 of the 11th month of Turn 198. 10th Interval.

Peruth wings down to a landing.

N'ait slips deftly down to the bent foreleg of Peruth, the Iced Blueberry Splashed Blue lowering to a crouch and watching with gentle eyes as the he hops to the ground.

(N'ait)
        Grown from an obviously lanky youth, N'ait stands at a height that isn't overly beyond the norm for a man of his youthful age. His hair is straight, brushed to one side mostly, a dark slice of wicked darkness that hints at blue when wet. His build is muscled cleanly to accomadate his leanness, with strong arms and quick legs. His skin is a darkened shade of sandy tan, his features almost giving him a serious expression at all times, although anyone that knows him could argue with their truth. Those features are all rather straight, save perhaps his nose, where it curves slightly. Light freckles disappear into the tan of his skin, a line across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. Eyes of a dark midnight blue hinted with soft mint green are defined by the bones surrounding them, shadowed by darkly amused eyebrows.
        Covering the torso of N'ait's body is a loose tunic of pale black, the sleeves curbing off at his upper arms while the tail of the tunic is captured by a pair of thinly woven black trousers. Those trousers tuck neatly into a pair of well cared for wherhide boots, the toes worn out just slightly. Pulled tightly over the bluerider's long-fingered hands are a pair of cloth gloves that happen to be missing the knuckles, made from a gold tinged orange material with a wherhide palm sewn in. Circling his brow and tied tightly at the top of his neck is a bandanna made of basically the same cloth, keeping his hair out of his eyes at all times. Tied down over his usual clothes are his riding leathers, added with a patch that stands for Ista Weyr, a blue dragon predominant. Around his shoulder is a knot depicting the colors of Ista Weyr and a strand of blue to show his rank as a bluerider of Peruth.
        From the looks of him, N'ait is only about 25 Turns, 2 months, 17 days old, but still working on his.. personality quirks?
Carrying:
Myst

Zarvind glances over at the arriving dragon idly. He is, or is feigning, work--one of the weyrfolk has a load stuck in the ground and they're trying with little success to pry it up. The task involves sticks, grunts, and much sweating, most on the burly man's part. Zar is wielding his at the moment, tapping it on the bale's tip.

Zarvind
A mop of black caps an awkward seeming demeanour, dripping askew over one ear in unpractised roguishness. His face is highly angular, sly curve of cheek almost childish in the peak of youthful delicacy. Grey eyes and clipped chin straggle casually together with the rest of this youth's sturdy but slightly lanky form, long legs claiming a striding gait as an obscure slur marks alto voice.
A spare pair of sandals fits loosely over Zar's feet, chapped flesh evident on the exposed toes. Otherwise, his clothes are ordinary, Weyr issue, brown tunic clapped over mid-length middling umber trous reaching to calf level. Crinkled, his outfit at least appears clean, without frills, and his knot proves it: bright saffron mingles unabashedly with deep jet, single-corded, looped once to denote him a resident at Ista Weyr.
He looks to be about 14 Turns, 2 months, 16 days old.

N'ait slides easily off of Peruth's back, landing lightly on the ground. He folds his arms and watches the going-ons with curious blue eyes, glances back to Peruth, but just says, to Zarvind, "Still here, eh?" It's a light tone.

Zarvind can do that light tone too, which he proves by sardonic imitation. "Still here," he mutters a reply, but keeps his mouth shut afterwards, underlip resolutely tugged out. Then, contrarily, a word or two more: "I'm helping out." See -- he's working.

Crisa comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

Crisa strolls down on along the bowl, enjoying the day for the most part.. She loves the weather of course.

(Crisa)
        Even if this young woman is small of stature, she demands attention. Not by words or deeds, but by her simple look. Crisa's hair is a lustrious brown, as dark as the oldest of tree trunks and just as thick. It spirals down around her face framing it much like a picture. Her eyes are deep set green and angular, giving her a slightly exotic cast. A small button nose and full lips fill out the woman's features.

        She's wearing a loose open blouse of flax, white in color. It is almost airy with the way it moves and just drapes on her. It is also nearly translucent. It holds her blossoming form well, her body curving with the swell of bosom. It is not tucked into the shortened skirt that she wears, which is a deepset blue. The skirt is of the same material but is of course, not translucent at all. It ends around her knees. The rest of her body is left bare and tan. Even her feet go without shoes for almost the entire Turn. Around her shoulder is the Knot of Ista Weyr.

Jalani comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

N'ait looks at the work and claps Zarvind on the shoulder appreciatively, "Good man. We can use the help, around here." He blinks his eyes and lifts a hand to rub his fingers against his eyelids, sighing tiredly before he smiles once more, erasing the sleepiness he showed before, and says, "Well, hopefully, you'll stick around a bit longer." He tilts his head and casts a smile and nod to Crisa.

Jalani walks up to N'ait, smiles and stands on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Hello there.. you do look sleepy."

(Jalani)
Small in stature, diminutive in structure, Jalani could easily be mistaken for a teenager, until one sees the easy sensual confidence in which she carries herself. Her age is difficult to discern, but middle twenties seems appropriate. Large, deep blue, almost violet eyes dominate a pleasant but otherwise quite ordinary face that is framed by the soft curls of her short jet black hair. Her small almost pug-like nose is usually peppered with freckles, much to her chagrin.

Jalani is clothed in the typical working uniform of a member of the Weyrlingmaster staff at Ista Weyr. The outfit consists of a short-sleeved shirt of light but durable white cotton, with gold and black embroidered stripes about two fingertips long running diagonally along the neckline and sleeve ends. Upon the right sleeve, just below the shoulder, is embroidered a green dragon, indicative of her lifemate, Meriath, while the left sleeve is adorned with the gold-hued patch of the Weyrling Wing, its outside edge trimmed in narrow black braid. She wears black linen shorts, cleverly designed to provide maximum practical comfort while flattering her trim figure. A pair of sturdy sandals complete her outfit.
Carrying:
Vtol

Zarvind was directing a larger man in the thankless job of moving a bale. Its not all hay though; an assortment of goods have been placed above the stack, ostensibly to weigh it down. "Just a bit over there, yeah, and /push/," the boy remarks loudly enough to carry. He even succeeds, as the wheel finally turns and the other trundles off. "--All in a day's work," declaims he to N'ait with a touch of pride.

Crisa continues on her little trek as she encounters the two men. She nods and offers up a smile to the both. "'Lo"

Zarvind swipes his hand through tousled hair, ruffling it further. "'Lo," he greets again, tipping a nod to Crisa. One hand sets the stick against his foot, and he stands thence, in a stance he terms rakish. Not that it works. "Belena's friend, aren't you?"

Crisa looks over and nods her head. "Yes, I am."

N'ait tilts his head curiously to watch Zarvind before his thoughts are pleasantly interrupted, his blue eyes turning towards Jalani as another smile lights his features, tired as they may be, "Oh, hello, lovely.." As if on cue, he smothers a yawn behind his fist and blinks at it. He sighs a bit and smiles at Jalani once more, nodding, "Aye, I was heading to the caverns for a drink before heading to bed.. but I think I'll just go, now." He says, in a tone that is just loud enough to be heard by the people near his lifemate, "I wouldn't want him squashing anyone in the bowl when he falls to sleep or anything.." Mischief flashes in his eyes, but is soon doused by his sleepiness. He brushes his fingers gently over Jalani's cheek, his head giving to a slight cant before he leans forward and kisses her softly, "Goodnight, lovely."

Jalani smiles up at her fellow rider. "Some day, you and I have to get together... but tonight, you would probably snore in my face." With a not so gentle nudge to his ribs, she sends N'ait off. "Get some sleep."

N'ait pokes his tongue out at Jalani a bit, but grins and says, "Ha." That's it. Then, he heads towards Peruth, mounts, and goes to bed.

N'ait steps up to Peruth's bent foreleg as the Iced Blueberry Splashed Blue crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. N'ait swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.

Peruth leaps aloft, finding a thermal to help gain his altitude.
From the sky over the bowl, Peruth wings his way upward from the Southern Bowl, finding a thermal with which to gain altitude.

Jalani hmms and sighs, as Peruth launches. "There go my plans for the evening."

Crisa looks over and blinks at Lani.. "What do you mean?"

Zarvind waves an arm after the dragon. "Yeah," he agrees with some measure of affability. "Fine day out?" He isn't much for small talk. But sympathy, yes; Jalani gets a sniff while he scratches his nose thoughtfully. "Had plans eh?" The stick goes 'scritch'.

Jalani sighs and shrugs. "Oh nothing, nothing at all. For two riders who are supposedly trying to get together, we just seem to never get anywhere is all.:

Zarvind looks Jalani over in his unobstrusive way. "I don't suppose you riders can do anything about the dragons, what with having to put their needs above yours." He shrugs, and jerks a look to Crisa. He grins, askance. "Unlike us unsaddled folks -- get to his weyr or something."

Jalani chuckles at Zarvind. "Well, there is that, but then there are drills, and chores, and hidework and all sorts of other things, then Meriath getting it in her head to search out new candidates and the day just fills up."

Zarvind suppresses a shudder by wobbling on his bootheels into that rut the wheel so recently dug. "What a list. I never knew there was so much to do, Rider." There's a smidgeon of respect in that word, perhaps not as much as expected though. And being young after all, he flounders, "Uh. Good luck with 'em."

Crisa chuckles softly and nods, before he rubs her eyes.. "Oh? Did she find some more?" Crisa seems interested in seeing how many they are going to bring.

Jalani hmms."One this afternoon. If you will excuse me?"

Jalani steps up to Meriath's bent foreleg as the Green crouches low with a gently whirling eyes. Jalani swings up easily and settles between two neckridges.
Meriath leaps aloft, finding a thermal to help gain her altitude.

From the sky over the bowl, Meriath wings her way upward from the Southern Bowl, finding a thermal with which to gain altitude.
From the sky over the bowl, Meriath wings her way over to the northern sky.

Dakar comes out of the narrow tunnel from the living caverns.

Zarvind glances around furtively, then paces off after an open grin at Crisa. "Later," just in case someone else sees him idling around.

You head through the narrow tunnel and into the bustling living caverns.


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