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Harper's Tale - Saturday, August 10, 2002, 4:03 PM
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Ista Hold Stables
As you step into the stables the scent of fresh hay and well groomed runners wafts over you. Rough hewn beams make up the major portion of the stable, over a dozen stalls lining each side of the large room. On the far wall you see several hooks and a shelf for keeping tack and cleaning supplies, everything kept neat and orderly by a dutiful stablehand. Not all the stalls are filled, but the runners which are present seem pleasant and well cared for, whuffling gently to themselves in their individual stalls
To the north, you see three dragons and one person.
In the stalls are 17 runners.
Gliding around is a bronze firelizard.
You see Orill's Wagon and Calysta's Wagon here.
Synte is here.
Obvious exits:
Courtyard
Hadrian walks in from the Ista Hold Courtyard.

The runners /know/. Some people might say that they feel the shift in the ozone, or... some other biological process, and some swear it's because they're more in tune with the way of life than others: of any which way, they /know/. And they're scared. With the Istan Stablemaster gone to the Weyr to Stand, it's up to the crew of stablehands to hold it together. Synte takes charge, growling commands to this person or that, calming a runner that spooks, and generally staying out of the way as the 'hands rush to bring all of their charges back into the stables. He grimaces at the hold stallion's stall -- it's barred bottom and top. "What the /shell/ is happening?" he half-explodes. "All ::between:: is ripping loose!"

Liesana strides in, as out of breath as her runnerbeast, a young gelding soaked in sweat from the gallop she'd held him to almost all the way from Smith Hall. What could prossibly have flustered the Herder-born Harper Master enough to push a young runner so close to his limits? She's muttering to herself as she strips the beast of tack, normally-cheerful face set in hard lines of concentration as she works. "Faranth... Hadrian, stand. There's a lad... now, those ancient records... Easy, Had, shhh now, I know." The outburst from Synte causes her head to whip around, and the Master quickly attempts to hide her worry beneath an impassive game face. It... doesn't quite work. "I take it that you've heard rumours?" she queries coolly.

Synte glares upwards. "Ease, ease -- calm down, son," he murmurs at a much taller stablehand. "What do you /mean/, the star's split?" He stares at him for a long time, cranes his head out the door, and turns in astonishment at Liesana. "Whoa, there." He strides in a low, slinking gait towards the gelding. "Calm down, son," is the assurance. He heard 'ancient records'. Couldn't be good to have the gelding smash 'em. "Don't need to hear rumors. The sky's falling." And that is that, apparently, with the tense shrug of his shoulders.

Synte releases Bonehead, who launches into the air.
Bonehead glides to the Courtyard.

The ground suddenly seems to fall away from you, then just as quickly snaps back, throwing you to the ground. There is a loud roar, and a violent rumbling, as the ground bobs up and down, vibrating as though it had been plucked like a string. Rocks tumble off of hillsides, and walls crack under the sudden force.

The violent, roaring quake continues; cracks split the ground and walls, and the shuddering earth makes it difficult to stand. People and creatures alike panic as the ground seems to come apart under the tremors.

The tremors seem to shake apart hold and weyr alike. Walls crumble, doorways set ajar by the ripping stone. The violent shaking continues.

A rumble from the High Reaches Weyr message drums in basic drum code produces the following message: Ground shaking. Quakes here. Drums may not make it through.

A rumble from the Tillek Hold message drums in basic drum code produces the following message: Volcano appears to be becoming active, quakes here also.

Liesana is huddled in a corner of the stables, hands over her head and looking absolutely terrified. "No..." she mutters to herself. "No... it wasn't supposed to hit /here/... The StarCraft /said/... No..." Hadrian, displaying much more sense than his mistress, hightails it out the door and into the open.

After what seems like an eternity, the rumbling begins to abate. Dust fills the already smoke-filled air.

Synte is settled on the ground, looking quite out of it, muttering incoherant thoughts. "To /between/ and back with your shelling craft!" he hisses at Liesana. "They refused to /tell/ us..." A mutter, and he hauls himself to his feet, crying out despite himself when his right leg crumples. He reaches over to the nearest thing -- a runner -- and holds on for dear life. "Faranth. Faranth-farnath-faranth. Boys! Gettim 'outta here! The stables are goin' down!" He hobbles, staring paranoidly at the cracks along the wall. Okay, so it might /not/ fall, but it sure the shell * looks * like it. "C'mon, woman. Get ahold of yourself. Gotta get out.. 'fore the next one hits," he pants, launching towards the stallion's stall. It's unlocked, and the terrified stud is snatched. Synte's cloak does for a blindfold, and he hobbles, leaning heavily against the stallion. "Someone get Demure to the pastures!" he bellows, once more hobbling over to Liesana, despite himself. "C'mon. Don't want everything to fall in on you, do you?"

Another rumble, and an aftershock rips across the island, tossing more dust and debris.

Liesana gets to her feet, her brain having picked a rather unfortunate time to have a flashback to her younger days. Almost mechanically, she moves to a stall and releases the runner in it, spooking them towards the doorway as she totters out. "It wasn't my decision... she repeats hollowly. "The Leaders' Conclave... they made us all swear to secrecy while they prepared... your Lord Holder should have /told/ you... His duty, under the Charter."

Synte has resulted to heaving his weight against the stallion's shoulder, loosening stalls methodically. "Go, go, go," he pants. "Andron ain't with it, woman," he pants a reply to Liesana. "Prepared?! How?! This looks like chaos!" The man, irate, undo's the blindfold and slaps the stud on the rump, reaching over and grabbing a longewhip. It will do for a crutch, at the moment. "I think they're out," he pants, loosening Demure's door and letting the paint gelding out. "That's the last one," he pants.

"I'm rather aware of that," snaps Liesana, showing signs of animation as she, too, frees the runnerbeasts. "Bloody shards, but Yatyl, the entire Hold Leadership can't be that ballsed up." The Harper Master turns to jab a finger in Synte's direction. "You just don't /get/ it, do you? Harper tells everyone everything they know and a panic starts. We're the bad guys. Harper follows the bloody /Laws/ of /Pern/, and we're the bad guys. What in Faranth's name are we to do? We've done what we can, and alerted the other Crafts. The Healers are ready..." Abruptly she trails off and blinks in bewilderment. "We need to leave." she intones in a very sage tone of voise.

Polop walks in from the Ista Hold Courtyard.

Synte stares at Liesana for a long, long time. "You're the bad guys either way," he snaps. "If we were /told/, this might not have /happened/. We could have /evacuated/ to /Southern/, for Faranth's sake!" He doesn't even think about if Southern's being affected. It's just.. too far-reaching for him to comprehend. "We need to get out of here, indeed." He wouldn't want to be stranded in /any/ area in close proximity of a Harper at the moment. "To where?" He leans against the makeshift crutch, face screwed up tight from the pain.

"You're bloody well going to an Infirmary, /Stablehand/." snaps Liesana, stalking over to him, and moving to grab him by the arm. "And I'm going to take you there myself. Now come along, the runners will be damn nigh impossible to catch in this state anyways." Scary. Subject Liesana to stress, and she turns into her Aunt Rilna. "And Southern might be affected too. Ever heard of a meteor? One just hit us."

Synte stares at Pol. For a long, long time. "They're let loose," he bleakly states. "Running about the countryside by now, I imagine." A pause, and he stares at Liesana's sudden emboldened attitude. "I'm bigger than you," he beligerantly states. "Like /shell/ am I going to the shelling /infirmary/! I'm seeing if /Psyra's/ alright." Even though Liesana could probably beat him up at the moment, with that ankle bleeding all over the place... Sigh. "That was a /meteor/?! Faranth's well-used tail," he curses.

"And I have a knife in each sleeve, and very little compunction about sticking /both/ of them in your ungrateful backside, if you continue to /argue/ with me. You'll do Psyra no good looking for her in this state." She tugs the stablehand's arm, and begins moving towards the door, hopefully with him in tow. "Liesana, by the way."

Polopcolloquirenae blinks, stumbling over her words. "L-let loose?" A sigh of semi-relief is given; at least now she can /pretend/ to herself that Secret Status is most likely running free from harm, in some far-away open pasture. "Infirmary? I can...help. With anything," Pol affirms, giving up any attempts to control her accent that is rapidly breaking loose. Liesana and Synte are given a squint or two, as she waits for the reaction.

Synte is towed, despite the way. "M'name's Synte." And he'll ignore any odd look. He doesn't /care/ if his name sounds like 'scent'. "Well, then," he dourly states, "Lead the way," is finally groused.

"Well met... I wish it were better met," replies the Harper Master with a wry look, trying for a little black humour in the situation as she guides the stablehand towards the door. And moves out of it and towards the Great Hall.

You go to the Ista Hold Courtyard.
You walk up a few small steps and pass into the Hold through the great doors.

Great Hall
With a dome-shaped ceiling reaching up almost beyond the light cast by numerous glows surrounding the hall, this room can be none other than the Hold's great hall. The floor is solid grey stone, slightly worn from the hundreds of Turns of use it's been through. Four `tapestries' hang around the hall at seemingly random intervals, coloring the otherwise dull hall. An assortment of tables and chairs and couches are strewn about the hall for any who wish to take a rest during their labors, but mostly people are using the great hall as a center for moving to other places. Archways and doors lead everywhere, but the most dominant doors are the great double doors to the east, leading out to the courtyard.
Gliding around are six firelizards.
You see Big Red Shmear here.
Morallen, Graiham, Aerrin, Kylianna, and Fareia are here.
Obvious exits:
Great Doors     Flying Mug     Dining Hall     Shops     Guard Office     Main Hallway     Crafthalls

You find yourself in the front of the great hall.
Synte walks in through the great doors from the courtyard.
Polop walks in through the great doors from the courtyard.

Synte allows himself to be led by Liesana, dully, trudging in, leaning heavily against the makeshift crutch and glaring down at the offending ankle. "I hate sprains," he morosely states, though internally knowing that his ankle's much worse off than a mere sprain.

Carrianna walks in from the Main Hallway.
Magen walks in from the Healer Passage.

Liesana staggers in, attempting to support the weight of the significantly-taller-than-her Synte. "Heh. I'm no Healer, but if that's a sprain, then I'm Lady Boll." she snaps, the Harper Master still decidedly lacking in normal diplomacy. "We've got a broken something or other over here," she calls, pointing to the stablehand.

Polopcolloquirenae nods, taking the names in: Liesana and Synte, trailing along after Synte and Liesana like a lost puppy dog - she's no idea what in Faranth's name she should do except for /that/. Wandering in from the Stables, now, she peeks about the area. She doesn't exactly offer help, either - not sure of what she could do.

Carrianna blinks in confuson are she enters the great hall wondering what the fuss is all about.

Graiham drags the bandage-laden cot toward the center of the room, then scurries back down the corridor and repeats the process, bringing more herbs, bandages, twine, needlethorns, et al, piled upon the second one. He's good at this manual labor stuff. He commandeers a table onto which he can unload the burndened cots, leaning against it for a second to catch his breath. Huff-puff.

Magen carries in a bucket of clean water in one hand, and a basket of supplies from the infirmary, in the other hand. "Graiham, who can I give this to?"

Fareia follows the other healers into the hall, pots of numbweed and other herbs piled into her large basket of bandages. Couches and tables are pointed at,"We could use those as cots?" Basket is set in a chair and the pots and the supplies are added to the the table which seems to be stocked with such things. Synte is waved towards a chair,"Come sit, come sit..." And to Magen,"Drop the stuff on the table, Magen?"

The hall is full of healers rushing this way and that as hurt people come straggling in. "Um.. can I help" She asks uncertainly to the nearest healer.

Morallen follows the other senior apprentices, carefully setting down his precious cargo of supplies that have survived the shaking. The pots of numbweed and bottles of redwort are parceled out, one per cot, and he distributes the bandages in similar fashion. "I can take someone over here," he announces as well, after Farie takes charge of Synte.

Synte glares sideways, beligerantly. "Okay, then, Lady Boll," he drawls. "I hate healers," he half-whines, half-grumbles. "Why are they so.. healer-ish?" He's not totally coherant. Pain. Definitely in pain. He blinks at Fareia, and eases into the chair. He /does/ have the grace to look up and nod at Liesana half-heartedly. "Thank you. We'll get your runner back.." A wince from the pain. "...as soon as we can."

Aerrin is near the front of the Hall, directing people this way and that as they arrive. Injured are shuffled off to one of the cots or makeshift beds that have been dragged out from the wrecked infirmary, while those who simply seem to be shocked are directed to some useful task or another. Want something to do? She's probably the one to see.

Graiham tries to keep some sort of order to the stuff he arranges on the table, but it's not much - herbs at one end, bandages at the other, and a big pile of miscellaneous in the middle. Finally, he's got two nicely prepared cots and one table full of a jumbled mess of supplies. A little station all ready, one of the injured winds up there directly and a flurry of Apprentices descend on the fellow. (It's good practice.)

Magen nods to Fareia, and sets down her supplies. "Right. I'll go get more clean water." And grabbing an empty bucket she heads out.

"Quit thinking about the sharding /runnerbeasts/, man." mutters Liesana under her breath. "They'll take care of themselves, you worry about yourself." She leads him over towards Fareia, stooping to help assist him down to the cot, and then standing about looking somewhat out of place and lost. "Right, then." she intones.

Kylianna is quite the productive little bunny, gritting her teeth as a little kid shrieks in her face. A numbweeded gash on the little boy's hand is gleaming red, and the healer remains hunched over it, eyes narrowed as she starts to stitch the injury together. Though she looks ready to decapitate the child, as the fake smile on her face tightens.

Polopcolloquirenae just blindly wanders about - well, keeping herself out of the way of others. But at last she manages to say, "Is there someway I could help?" Already tying her mass of cream up into ponytails, in case it might help, she looks around anxiously at all the wounded.

Graiham, seeing a chance to be useful without having to haul around cots full of junk, makes his way over to Kylianna directly. "That," he begins, sidling up to the little kid and peering at the hand, "is going to be a great scar. How many stitches do you think he's going to be lucky enough to get, Journeyman Kylianna?" It's a blatant ploy to get the kid to shut up.

Fareia sits down at the end of the chair. "We're healerish because we're healers," answers the healerish healer in a healerly way. Farie quickly unlaces the boot on Synte's obviously injured foot, carefully easing it off. "Okay, hold your leg out. Now try and move your foot around in a circle." The healer demonstrates,"Like this."

Aerrin sweeps by Polopcolloquirenae on her way across the Great Hall, a large tin held in one hand. "Need something to do?" she questions, tilting her head toward the girl before she stops by a women with tears streaking down her face, kneeling to lift her leg and inspect a large scrape across one calf.

Morallen finds himself something to do as one of the old kitchen aunties comes tottering over, clutching a burned hand and whimpering that "I were just cooking when th' shakin' kem, lad. Just cooking..." With an understanding nod, the young man pats her undamaged hand and gently guides the elderly woman to a seat on the cot. "I know, auntie, I know. Now, I'll just clean that right up, and we'll have it numbed and bandaged up quick as a wink..."

Keliana walks in through the great doors from the courtyard.

Saved. Kylianna casts a grateful look over at Graiham, relief in her eyes as the child's screaming lowers an octave, then pauses for a moment. The boy's eyes widen, no longer staring at Kyli's slow stitching. "Oh, I don't know," she responds, a little /too/ cheerfully, "I suppose he'd get ten or so... It'll be a /good/ scar, though. Right?" And the little boy makes a little 'ooooh' sound. "A /neat/ scar?" the boy asks.

Carrianna stands aside feeling useless, barely getting out of the way of a hurrying apprentice. Slowly back away from the chaotic scene, the distress of so many in pain greatly disturbing her. 'Really she would just be in the wasy...' She thought as she blaunched at a particular nasty wound and quickly fled.

Synte eyeballs Liesana for a long moment. "The runnerbeasts are my life," he frankly replies. Ahem. "I... can't," he pants, after a moment of trying to circle his foot. Black spots hover infront of his eyes when he attempts to move it, again, and he leans back, sweating from the effort.

Carrianna walks through the great doors into the courtyard.

"My Harpers..." murmurs Liesana to herself, now that Synte seems to be attended to. "I have to see to my Hall..." And with that, the Master crosses the floor and steps gingerly through the half-off-their hinges doors to Harper Hall.

You walk through an archway into the Harper's crafthall.
Main Hall and Ballroom
The calm beauty of the ballroom has been violently disrupted. A heavy layer of rock and plaster dust covers exposed surfaces, with motes of it hanging in the air and choking the lungs. The many murals are chipped, paint flakes shook loose and fallen to join the detrius on the ground, while the airy arch of the ceiling beyond the cover of the balcony is mocked by the shattered ruins of the curved staircase now lying in ruined and jagged heaps on the cracked marble of the mosaic'd floor.
Watching from a bit of artistically carved lintel are five firelizards.
You see Leyte here.
Mynd, Ylisa, Kirsyn, and Niara are here.
Obvious exits:
Artist's Workshop     Archive Vault     Harper Office     Harper Classroom     Shainman Rehearsal Hall     Great Hall     Instrument Workshop     Curving Stairways
You stand in the Harper's main room.

Ylisa lifts her hands, clasping one wrist in the other hand. "Ah... I think I'll use my left hand, so you hold yours /so/ - I think that's right. And Niara, can you steady his head as we move him?" She crouches beside the journeyman, ready to use her legs to lift his weight.

Mynd is..yep..still unconscious, and hopefully will remain unconscious through the entire moving process. If not, the lung capacity of this Harper just might get shown off. He can scream. Loudly. Cough. But lets hope he doesn't wake up.

Niara spies Liesana's entrance out of the corner of her and nearly melts in relief. But Ylisa's voice snaps her back to attention and she steps forward, cradling Mynd's head obediently.

Kirsyn nods at Niara, lopsided grin crossing her features. "Or...that might work, too." And Ylisa's instructions are followed and given mute nods. "All right - I think I'm ready to lift when you are, Ylisa." Biting her lip and re-situating her weight, she prepares for lift-off. Liesana is shot a relieved look, of course.
corner of her eye!

"Dear sweet skies..." mutters Liesana, surveying the ruins of the Hall. And then, naturally, she notices Mynd and his gaggle of hesitant paramedics. "Bloody shards, what /happened/ to him? There are Healers in the Great Hall... how is his pulse and breathing?" Liesana is in full fight-or-flight, and her barrage of questions arrives at lightning speed as she steps over towards the group. "Careful, easy now. Have you made sure that his neck can't move when you lift him?"

Niara peaks over hte body, Mynd's head carefully held in her hands. "We're trying...the stairs collapsed and he's bleeding," Nia explains, as if that was all just a natural sequence of events.

Ylisa is concentrating hard, and doesn't notice Liesana until she speaks. Then she looks up with relief visible on her face. "Liesana!" One breath, then she's ready to answer. "Niara's steadying his head. Oh, I need to do something about his arm though - tuck it into his shirt. His breathing's shallow - we need to get him out of here as soon as we can, the ceiling doesn't look good."

Kirsyn nods mutely, concurring with what the other apprentices have said. "He's bleeding," she reiterates, mostly to herself, looking at the arm, and considering how it could exactly tuck into Mynd's shirt, before nodding. "Sounds fine to me. I do hope he's okay..." A nibble on her lip (one of worry), follows.

"Just leave the arm," counsels Liesana, who, after all, isn't without knowledge of broken bones. Admittedly, they were /her/ broken bones. Now, do any of you know how to perform a Guardsman's Carry? He's alive, let's just move him out of here as quickly as possible..." A piece of stone from the ceiling crashes down on the other side of the room, prompting a swallow. "Er, especially since we don't know how /stable/ it is in here..."

Niara shakes her head and steps back. She's still not going to be very much help in carrying the injured man.

Mynd is a small injured man though! :P
And Niara is a petite 13 turn-old girl! :p

Ylisa glances in startlement at the falling masonry, then purses her lips and tries to recall the lift that Lies is suggesting. Frowning, she admits, "I don't. We were going to do a chairlift, with an arm across. And that arm's at a real angle - if the bones break the skin..."

"It's no more than twenty paces to the triage center they've got out there, and immobilizing that arm will take precious time." decrees Liesana. "I don't know if the ceiling here is going to come down or not, so just keep his arm still when you lift, and that should be enough. It takes force to break the skin." That said, the Master crouches down next to her former mentee and nods to Ylisa. "Right, then. You and I are probably the strongest here. Kirsyn, support his neck, and Niara, you can steady his arm. Places, then on three."

Mynd will soon recieve medical attention! Yay! This pleases him. See the smile? ..Well..alright no, probably not. But he's /thinking/ about smiling.

Niara is at her position, trying not to touch the grotesquely bent limb, but ready to support it once in the air.

Ylisa nods. "Right." She stretches out her hand underneath Mynd's legs to meet up with Liesana's hands, and slips her other hand under his shoulders, reaching towards the Master's shoulder. "Ready when you are."

Kirsyn nods as well, echoing Ylisa's words as she steadies herself. "Exactly. When you give the word, Master Liesana."

"... Three" grunts Liesana, lifting her side of Mynd in concert (hopefully) with Ylisa. "Now, steady on there. Let's get him to the door and some help. Nice and easy. Niara, keep an eye on that arm...

Mynd walks with silent footsteps to the Great Hall.
Ylisa rises to her feet, clenching her fingers more tightly round Liesana's wrist as they take Mynd's weight. "OK, I'm there. Can we make it small steps please - can't see my feet."

You go to the Great Hall.
Great Hall
With a dome-shaped ceiling reaching up almost beyond the light cast by numerous glows surrounding the hall, this room can be none other than the Hold's great hall. The floor is solid grey stone, slightly worn from the hundreds of Turns of use it's been through. Four `tapestries' hang around the hall at seemingly random intervals, coloring the otherwise dull hall. An assortment of tables and chairs and couches are strewn about the hall for any who wish to take a rest during their labors, but mostly people are using the great hall as a center for moving to other places. Archways and doors lead everywhere, but the most dominant doors are the great double doors to the east, leading out to the courtyard.
Gliding around are six firelizards.
You see Big Red Shmear here.
Morallen, Graiham, Aerrin, Kylianna, Fareia, Synte, Polopcolloquirenae, Magen, Keliana, Kurt, and Mynd are here.
Obvious exits:
Great Doors     Flying Mug     Dining Hall     Shops     Guard Office     Main Hallway     Crafthalls

Ylisa walks in from the Main Hall and Ballroom.
Kirsyn sidles, hips a-swaying, in from the Main Hall and Ballroom.
Niara slips softly in from the Main Hall and Ballroom.
Pae gambols in through the great doors from the courtyard.
Carrianna walks in from the Main Hallway.
Carrianna walks through the great doors into the courtyard.

The Harper is back... and she's brought friends. Or, actually this is far from a social call. Liesana, along with Ylisa, Kirsyn, and Niara, is hauling in an unconscious Journeyman Mynd with what looks to be a very broken arm and a head wound bleeding like only headwounds can. And her player hopes she's got the injury tally right. "Staircase is collapsed... is there a Healer free?"

With Aerrin bent in intense concentration over a rather nasty fracture, no one seems to be directing traffic in the Great Hall - the place is a mad flurry of blood, bandages, patients, and Healers, many shouting above the noise in search of a loved one or requesting a mass of bandages. For her part, Aerrin's up to her elbows in redwort and reaching for a large tin of numbweed.

Synte shifts uncomfortably, watching the activities with pain-dulled eyes. His eyes snap up the scene of Liesana and the harpers -- including that short one with a headwound. A shudder. "Can I /help/ at all?" From his chair. He can direct traffic! Cough.

Boom! The doors open and two shaken riders - N'zgul and Pae - enter the area, not-so-quietly entering the area. Pae's at a loss for words, but N'zgul takes care of it. "Hey!" he exclaims. "Can anyone give us some help?" Pae rolls her eyes. "What th'young one means, is can 'Igh Reaches Weyr bring th'seriously 'urt 'ere? We can't 'andle it all with only one 'ealer." Can anyone understand either rider? Nobody knows. Yet.

Kirsyn supports Mynd's neck, as asked by Liesana, trying to carefully maneuver about. She's starting to feel the wear 'n tear as well, gasping every so often, though infrequent enough that it seems clear to her it's no real problem. "Yes," she manages to croak. "Staircase collapsed."

Graiham pats the kid on the leg and then heads over toward the newly arrived Harper group. "Put him on that cot," he says, pointing to the one next to the little kid. "And I'll take a look at the head, but... Where'd Kylianna go?" He whirls ni a circle, looking for the Journeyman in question. Chaos!

Carrianna walks in through the great doors from the courtyard.
Carrianna walks to the Main Hallway.

Kylianna has cleaned out the wound, peering at the gash for another other bits as she liberally applies redwort. Her stitches are a little quicker this time, the glaze of numbweed having sent the woman into a slightly more calm state, but the stitches are going more quickly, lining down the leg. "It'll leave a bit of a scar, but it'll fade. Not too bad...," she reassures with a soft voice, though as she glances towards the door, she swallows hard. "Let's get you finished," she mutters hurriedly, her pace of stitching still careful and steady.

Fareia is just standing in the middle of the chaos, glancing over the peopple straggling in. "I'm free, I'm free. Take a seat on one of the couches for a minute?" A bandage is held out to Liesana,"Press that on his head, okay?" And with that the healer turns to the other harper master,"Master Kurt. What did you do now?" asks Fare as she ushers him towards a couch.

Mynd is..carried. Well go figure. He's certainly not walking anywhere by himself, being unconscious. Stupid ungrateful staircase, falling down while he's walking on it. Really, how mean of it. Still, his breathing is a bit labored, only taking in short breaths.

Kurt's hair, which had been cropped to chin length stands out in an unruly dusty mess, lacking its usual style. The Harper might be unrecognizable, but he doesn't help by not making much effort to identify himself. Instinctively he tries to comfort the wailing child, just staring straight ahead as if completely in shock. "Hey, can I help you?" a random helper asks, waving a hand in front of his face. "Master Aerrin, we have a child...maybe two, three turns?" she announces, indicating Kurrin.

Moss blinks in from ::between::!

Dona walks in from the Main Hallway.

Dona runs from her hiding place, spots Mynd and latches on, remarkably quiet.

Polopcolloquirenae piles some more bandages on the table, feeling her knees start to wobble. Deciding this might be a good chance to move on to someplace more useful, or a resting place. With careful steps she makes her way out of the area, and onto other places. While player is dealing with spam, and needs to have this alt disappear.

Ylisa can't concentrate on anything else except picking her way through the rubble while she's carrying Mynd, but once he's safely on the indicated cot, she straightens up, rubbing aching hands together, and looks round. "However did they get all this organised so quickly?" Then she stands blinking for a few seconds, just taking it all in. "What now?"

Polopcolloquirenae goes home.

Magen carrying in more buckets of clean water, looks at the scene before her. Riders from High Reaches wanting to transport patients here. And a man carrying a child. Magen suddenly recognizes the man with child. Turning to Master Aerrin, she gently tries to get her attention. To get Aerrin to turn around...

Keliana thanks Morallen faintly with a mutter and sits down on the cot, glancing about the room with blurry eyes. Helen, however, doesn't seem to trust this dusty-haired healer. She screeches and flutters about her humanpet, not quite scratching Morallen but not quite letting him near. Keli faintly protests and tries to speak Helen down, without much success as she hadn't quite made herself loud. The skinned knee has finished turning colors and is now slowly oozing down her knee, and the arm hangs limply at her side, marring her dress crimson.

Liesana takes the bandage and stares at it for a moment as Fareia scuttles away. And then gamely turns to the other Harpers. "Right... you heard the lady, let's get him down on the cot, girls," the young Master directs, unaware of the presence of Kurt or Kurrin as she focuses on her unconscious mentee. Who now has a kidlet attached to him. "Dona, come stand over by me, sweetie," she urges. "We need to be able to leave the Healers room to help Mynd." But, since she's been tasked to deal with his headwound herself, the Harper Master gingerly peels away the cloth covering the wound as soon as the Journeyman is settled, and applies the bandage and pressure.

Kirsyn nods nervously, shooting glances at the much-battered (in her opinion) Mynd every so often. "Yeah. Umm, what do they want us to do with him?" she asks quietly, nodding in obvious relief as Liesana steps in to answer her question. So Kirsyn also takes up her part of the load of heft Mynd to the cot.

Dona doesn't move, but stays near Mynd's side. "He's MY harper and I need to help, too!" she says defensively, pretty much trying to ignore the fact she has no idea where her twin is and is trying not to think about her and panic.

Seeing someone invariably more qualified on the case for Mynd, Graiham heads over toward the newly entered riders, directing some dazed looking soul out of the way as he passes. "The seriously hurt?" he repeats, crossing hastily. "No. No, absolutely no." Just in case it was overlooked thus far, "No. You can't bring seriously hurt people Between. But if you guys are that swamped, we can bring a few Healers to them instead. Will that work?"

Morallen settles on the cot beside Keliana, recognizing the symptoms of shock and realizing he might not get much cooperation from her. Gently, he picks up the wounded arm and begins to clean it with the redwort solution, tapping her fingertips with his own and watching critically for a reflex response. "Can you wiggle your fingers for me?" he tries again. With a wound that deep, one has to watch for nerve damage.

Once Mynd is settled, Ylisa watches for a few seconds as Liesana attends to the head wound. Then she frowns, and takes a deep breath, expression momentarily distant as if she's trying to remember something. Turning slightly, she says quietly to Liesana, "Lies, nobody came past us when we were in there." No need to say where. "There must be people upstairs, and in the workshops."

A rumble from the Gar Hold message drums in basic drum code produces the following message: Healers Needed Gar Hold. Smoke. Ash. Rumblings shaking the hold. Healers Needed Gar Hold.

Keliana finally talks (or yells, whatever you'd call it) Helen down to resting on the cot's edge, fluttering about it anxiously. Keli reaches out her arm with a very audible intake of breath and a cringe, and that cringe deepens as she wiggles her fingers slightly. "It-it really hurts," She stutters, cramping her eyes closed and gritting her teeth. Her movements are still slow and reflexes are off; and she still wobbles slightly.

Liesana hisses under her breath at Ylisa's words. "Shards... well, the worshops, it could just be that the doors are jammed shut, right...?" hazards the Master, attempting optimism. "As for the upper rooms, people have probably, quite sensibly, decided to wait until someone could fetch them a ladder." She continues to exert an even pressure on Mynd's head wound, having been a survivor of Jathen's first aid class for non-Healers. "Once Mynd is settled, we'll get a party together with ropes and ladders." she decrees, before silencing suddenly at the drumcode message. "Smoke and ash at Gar Hold," she translates, lous enough for any interested to hear. "They request Healers."

"One moment... can you look at them, please? I'm in the middle of..." Aerrin trails off without ever looking over her shoulder at the Healer and patients. Her eyes are narrowed in concentration, and she grunts slightly as she /heaves/ on the bone, attempting to slide the nasty fracture back into place.

"We can ask on that," N'zgul replied sharply. "Bringing Healers along...we can do that. If there's anyone willing to come.." Pae, on the other hand, looked skeptical and muttered to her bronzeriding companion. "Naz, there's noplace t'keep any more--" He cut her off. "We're stuck on the Sands, see, taking care of people, and it's...er, difficult." Pae kicked him in the shins. /She/ was supposed to be the diplomat.

A rumble from the High Reaches Weyr message drums in basic drum code produces the following message: High Reaches has no spare healers for Gar. Heavy wounded. Dragons lost.

Fareia drags some supplies over to Mynd, nodding to Liesana and waving her hand away, placing a fresh bandage on the injury,"Thank you..." Dona is eyed for a moment before the healer leans down to the girl,"Sweety, we need to take care of him. the best way you can help is to go sit in that chair over there...And I bet someone has a sweetstick for you if you go and ask.." With that, Fare further inspects Mynd's head. "I think..." a glance to the harpers who brought him in,"What's his name? Can you keep that bandage there until it stops bleeding?" Fare wrinkles her nose up as she discovers the broken arm. "Ouch. This needs to be set.." A glance at Mynd,"Hmm....What do I do if my patient's not awake for me to question?" she calls to any nearby ranker.

"I'm going to numb it as soon as possible," assures Morallen, squeezing her uninjured hand reassuringly as he finishes cleaning the wound on the other arm. And, as promised, one of the surviving tubs of numbweed is produced and, after redworting his hand, applied. "Now, you tell me when this is so numb you can't feel anything, got it?" Hazel eyes settle steadily on the Weaver's face for a moment. "It doesn't look like you've got any nerve damage to worry about, so once this heals, you'll be right as rain."

Kirsyn looks nervous at the possibility of more harpers being locked away, or injured, or worse - but maintains her calm, thanks to Liesana's words. Luckily so; for Kirsyn in a panic is not really a Kirsyn anyone wants to deal with, truthfully.

Dovella skips quietly in from the Main Hallway.

Liesana gives Dona an encouraging little nod, before, as senior Harper of the contingent, taking it upon herself to speak with Fareia. Of course, the apprentices can always add in their 2/32nds. "His name is Mynd, he's a Journeyman Harper... and my mentee," she murmurs. "He was on our hall's staircase when it collapsed underneath him." She steps back to give the healer room to work, and gives Kirsyn a reassuring smile.

Hedging a little and being hounded by the little kid who got the stitches earlier, Graiham tries to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as much as possible as he explains, "Well, you can't bring seriously injured people Between. So you two need to work out what you want to do and get back to me." He crouches next to the kid then, explaining carefully, "You have to leave the bandage on, or else you'll make it worse, and then we might have to cut off your arm." Hyperbole can be so effective with little kids.

If you're injured and you know it, raise your hand! If you're injured and you know it, raise your hand! If you're injured and you know it, then the blood will surely show it, if you're injured and you know it, raise your hand!!!

Dona starts to back away from Mynd, looking like tears might start to flow from her eyes at any moment, but she's really trying to be brave even if reality seems very unreal, now. Panic starts to rise as thoughts of Andria's absence nibble at her mind,b ut she sees Dovella and heads in her direction.

Dovella comes in, tears streak her face as she clutches a stuffed ovine to her chest. She looks at all the chaos and just can't quite comprehend it. Why is this happening? She's a little traumatized of course. A few cuts and scrapes show themselves on her brow and knees from all the tremors and such.

Kirsyn contains a whimper - for the harperlet, it's all starting to sink in that this is /real/, now. But placing her worries about the conditions of friends and families at the back of her mind, Kirs nods at Dona as she goes over to Dovella. "Hopefully, he'll be fine!" And trail-off to a sigh. Hopefully /everyone/ will somehow pull through.

"Fine, give us what you can," N'zgul snaps. Pae eyes him reproachfully. "We'll take someone back with us, I s'pose...'ealers we need, aye." Funnyvoice. "We've got pregnant folks as well as many injured...an' a few injured dragons as well.." Stammerstammer. "'Elp would be wond'ful."

Dona backs herself against a wall and lets out a startled yelp just before she starts to sink to the floor, eyes wide at all the goings on. Her mind becomes numb and she stares as she starts a quiet whimpering.

"Kirsyn, Ylisa," murmurs Liesana to the two Harper apprentices remaining, pointing out Dona, Dovella and Merevan. "Those children will need a hug and someone to talk to, once the Healers have cleared them. Normally, we'd take them to a Mindhealer, but today... I doubt they'll be the worst off. Harpers are morale officers. I'm going to have to help with the efforts in our Hall, but you two could do a great service by helping to comfort the children. Take them to the beach, or some place out of the chaos, and get them to talk."

Fareia takes a breath, and gently pulls on Mynd's arm, waiting for the pop that notifies her the bone is in place. Breath is let out and a splint is quickly placed on his arm. "Okay then..." Bandage on his head is checked, and since it's stopped bleeding, the healer cleans out the wound, and bandages it up. "Now then.. A collapsed staircase..." Healer quickly inspects the rest of mynd, wrinkling her nose up at the bruising around his ribs. "THat doesn't look good..."

Natalie walks in from the Main Hall and Ballroom.
Kurt stalks through the great doors into the courtyard.

Fortunately, the pleasantly plump Journeyman Clarissa is on hand and replies to Pae and N'zgul, "Good. Then I'll come with you." She calls back over her shoulder, "Kylianna! I'm taking your Apprentice to the Reaches. Wave bye-bye." She shoves Graiham off toward a table of supplies, saying, "Get together some bandages, redwort, numbweed, needlethorn..." She continues on as Graiham hastily shoves stuff into a pack and then, carrying the ungainly thing, returns. "We're ready."

Merevan simply looks around before bursting into loud sobs. "Where's mommy? I want my mommy!!" He screeches loudly, completely confused and more than a bit scared.

Natalie opens a door labelled The Flying Mug and walks through.

Keliana's face shows instant relief as the first application of numbweed brings an instantaneous cool nothingness to the throbbing arm-gash. Her eyelids relax and eventually they open to be met by Morallen's. She swallows and nods, and then after a moment mumbles that the arm is numb enough. Though she would rather request a hefty fellis dousing. She eventually averts her eyes, particularly away from her arm. A shudder snakes down her spine.

Mynd hasn't really moved much, being unconscious, though he does, finally, make a noise, a light groan as his lashes flutter a little. Looky! He lives!

Dona whimpers become sobs when Merevan starts his screeching.

"Ooh, thank you, Liesana. You know how I adore children," Kirsyn says gratefully. And the harper apprentice shifts over to Dona, first, murmuring soothing things. "Now, now. It'll be all right in the end. Would you like to come and sit with Merevan and Dovella?" she whispers in the form of a question. Step 1: Gather all the children together.

Natalie walks in through the great doors from the courtyard.

Ylisa looks over to find the children that Liesana is indicating, then nods. "Of course." Before moving, however, she turns to Fareia. "If it helps to know what happened, he was at the top of the stairs when they collapsed, so he fell quite a way but he wasn't crushed under anything." Then she follows Kirsyn over to the children.

Natalie opens a door labelled The Flying Mug and walks through.

Aerrin sighs in relief as a Journeyman appears to help her wrest the bone into place, and she wipes her hands swiftly against the front of her tunic. "/Please/ tell me we still have suture thread somewhere?" she questions, before calling to a nearby apprentice while more numbweed is slathered on. Never too much numbweed.

Dona doesn't even nod at Kirsyn but moves a bit closer. She swipes at her watery eyes and looks up at the harper.

Morallen nods, and steps away to collect one of the suture kits that's been found and rescued from the shambles of the infirmary. He returns, and settles on the cot beside Keliana again, as much for giving a little support as for ease of work. "Now, some folks find this part a little disconcerting," he cautions, threading one of the curved suture needles with a strand of catgut. "There's a reel over here, Master," he pipes up to Aerrin. "Fine grade, though. Better for surface wounds." He then returns to his patient. "Now, I want you to look at me while I work, not at your arm, OK? And why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself? I'm Senior Apprentice Morallen, by the way..." he continues to ramble as he makes his first move on the torn flesh of the wound, rendered insensitive by the numbweed.

Kirsyn coos softly, inviting the child to hole up in her arms - which means she can carry Dona to the others. Ylisa is noted, and she nods. "Err, Ylisa, could you maybe go talk to one of those? I'm trying to get them all together." The 'those' in question being Dovella and Merevan, of course.

Fareia grabs a nearby pot of numbweed, adding a nice dollop of it to Mynd's ribs, and a couple other nasty lookin' bruises. "Oh good..." The harper dissapears for a moment, then comes back with a mug of tea, placing it next to the cot for when Mynd wakes up. "Mynd? I'm Senior Apprentice Fareia. You broke an arm and hit your head. Tell me if you're dizzy or you're going to throw up, okay?" This is all said as a bandage is wrapped around Mynd's ribs,"And I think you broke a rib." Let's hope he caught all that while being half-unconcious.

Dona latches onto the kind harper and hides her face in her shoulder, though she continues to cry. She's been so brave, but now Dona's just a frightened little girl.

Liesana nods approvingly as Ylisa and Kirsyn move off, and steps a little closer to Mynd's cotside as her mentee wakes up. Crouching down beside him, she watches Fareia work on treating him, and reaches out a hand to take his uninjured one. "Don't you dare do something like this again, you hear me," she comments, her tone a little hoarse. It's the smoke in the air, honest.

Graiham and Clarissa are bundled out the door and down the (probably halfway broken) steps by one of the Reaches riders. Excitement and adventure!
Graiham strolls through the great doors into the courtyard.

Groan will turn into a vague whimper as Mynd opens his eyes fully, a somewhat glazed look given around. Ow. Pain. Pain isn't fun! Disoriented, the harper looks at Fareia, trying to piece together what was just said to him. Eh..blink. Head turns, if slowly, to look at Lies, giving the harper Master a weak smile. "..Hey Lies.." Yeah. Okay, so he's a little out of it still.

"It'll have to do," Aerrin mutters in Morallen's direction as she scoops up a reel and tosses it to her assisting Journeyman. "Stitch and bandage?" she questions before turning away and circulating again. She stops near the harpers and children, bending a bit. "Hey there... you guys ok?"

Kirsyn holds Dona close to her, continuing to murmur whatever words of comfort she can give to the child; Kirsyn has some memories of being alone, confused, and afraid. "Come on, now," she murmurs softly. "We're going to go see to your friends, now. Is that all right?" Important to ask the child, you see.

Ylisa approaches Merevan, forming her face into an encouraging smile and holding out a hand. "Well now, we can't go to Mummy just now, dear, but why don't you come & talk to me for a bit. What's your name?" She sends a grin in Dovella's direction, too.

Dona tries, really, to get herself under control and sniffles in a momentary lapse of sobs. "Mmm hmm," she nods and cries again, but more softly.

Dovella just cries and leans against the wall like a trapped animal. She looks at Merevan...mommy? Dove doesn't have a mommy she can call for. Sniffle. She cries even louder, not sure what else to do.

"MOOOOOMMMMMYYYY!" Merv screeches. He doesn't want some Harper fill-in, he wants /his/ mother and only his mother. "Where's my mommy? She doesn't have any booboos, right? I want my mommy..." He whimpers, wiping several tear streaks from his face.

Liesana, now that she's no longer in charge of anyone but herself, for the moment, finally has a bit of a letdown from the adrenal edge she's been running on since shortly after the quake. "Hello yourself," she replies to Mynd, squeezing his fingers. "You've had a pretty busy day, trying to learn how to fly without wings..."

Fareia holds out a mug to Mynd,"Think you can manage this?" A glance to Liesana, since she seems pretty close to the hurt harper,"I'm guessing he has a concussion...He'll have to stay in bed for a while for it to heal." And directed to the woozy harper,"You're going to be dizzy if you try and stand up, okay? So don't."

Kylianna gives a quick pat to a burned child, a finishing touch of the light bandage before she makes her way back to Aerrin, a little tiredness glinting in her eyes. "How many more do you think we'll have today? There's a lot of inventory and recovery of supplies left to do, I hate to think how much we've lost..."

Kurt stalks in through the great doors from the courtyard.

Ylisa attempts to wrap the screeching Merevan in a hug with one arm, while extending the other in a welcoming gesture towards Dovella. "Yes, it's all rotten, isn't it. Come and have a good cry, if you like."

Mynd chuckles quietly, not entirely..there. Oh well. Probably better that way. "Thought I'd try something new..I guess." Blinky.. Ooh..a drink. Hm. Broken arm..and the other one is imprisoned by Lies. Problem.

Carrianna walks in from the Main Hallway.
Carrianna walks through the great doors into the courtyard.

Dovella looks at Ylisa and sniffles before running to her. And then she's right back to bawling her little eyes out and hugging her stuffed ovine.

Kirsyn nods at Dona quietly, picking up the child in her arms to walk quietly, swaying to give a rocking motion, over towards Dovella, Merevan, and Ylisa, nodding as she scootches closer towards Dovella, as Ylisa's talking to Merevan. "Dear? Dear, come over with us. What Ylisa said - it's terrible. Just cry." Seeing the child run over to Ylisa, she grins a bit in relief, continuing to rock Dona and murmur soothing things.

Merevan shakes his head quickly, pushing away from Ylisa. "I want /MOMMY/." He yells at her, wrapping his arms around his knees, and still shaking his dirty face.

Aerrin straightens, running a blood-stained hand across her forehead to push curls backward. "Shards, I hope not many more.. we're all exhausted, and we had most hands out, so there aren't many to pick up the next shift... And who knows how the weyr is faring." Her eyes glance over the room full of makeshift beds, cots, and worktables, filled with patients and exhausted healers. "I'm afraid to even look at the infirmary.. shards, Kyli. What if our numbweed or redwort stock was hit?"

Liesana releases Mynd's hand, a little sheepish, as the Healer arrives with one of her potions. "Heh, I suppose I'd better let you drink that. Although I warn you it's better if you don't taste it too much." Liesana could really use a hug herself, right about now, but since she's got work to do, she'll settle for collapsing around her friends later on. "Take care, kiddo," she murmurs to her mentee, and then leaves him in Fareia's keep, Merevan's howls having caught her attention. "Hello there, Merevan," she introduces herself to him. "Do you remember me? Harper Liesana? I want /my/ mommy, too,"

Keliana turns back around and listens to Morallen's instructions with a slightly fearful face, and her pale face is tinged now with a slightly nauseated tone. She swallows mightily and nods, turning to look at the Healer's face and keep her eyes off of her arm. "Hi, Morallen . . ." She gulps. "Uhh, m'name's Keliana. Weaver Apprentice." She manages to say-- surprising that she can open her mouth at all. "Got tossed about in the shaking. Caught on a rock." She nods slightly and takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes on Morallen's face to refrain from glancing at the wound.

Dona is closer to her peers now, and not about to look like just a child. Not her. That's the incentive she needs to get herself under control again. It takes a few breaths, but she does it. Her poor pink stuffed kitty might be held just a tad too tightly when she sniffles and pulls away from Krisyn, but not too far away. "Stop it," she glares at Merevan. "You're always acting like /such/ a baby." No matter that he really is.

Pae gambols through the great doors into the courtyard.

Mynd will drink this somehow. Yes. The harper shifts, pushing himself up with one arm. Can't drink while laying down. That doesn't /work/. The mug is taken then, shakily being sipped out of.

"Well, if the Weyr needs us, they'll be quick to get us. But I think we'll all be pulling double-shifts tonight..." Kylianna glances around, the worry deepening on her expression. "I don't want to think about it until I have to. If our numbweed is decimated, then we'll just have to make do and use it sparingly. But redwort... Shards," she mutters, shaking her head. "We can't afford that. We'll just have to hope."

"That's it," Ylisa murmurs to Dovella, bending a little and spreading her arm in an invitation to a hug. Then to Lies, "Oh, you know him, Liesana? Who /is/ his mother?"

Kirsyn looks on in faint amusement - this's kidlet society at work, it would seem, but she reprimands Dona lightly. "Shh. He's young - anyone should be allowed to cry at this point. /I've/ even cried today. Let him cry." Pausing for a few moments, she starts talking once more. "What's your name? I'm Kirsyn. Apprentice at Harper." Often, talking about everyday subjects stops trauma, right? Err, hopefully.

Aerrin nods, expression plainly worried. "As much a we need the hands here... we've /got/ to sift through that infirmary and see how we're faring. We might be able to get a bit of a harvest if we do it soon, and if.. I heard crops at Tillek were wiped out. If anything hit the numbweed fields.. and the redwort..."

Merevan /is/ younger than Dona, so he can cry if he wants to. His eyes flicker up briefly to look at Liesana, and he nods tearfully. "Yeah, I want Mommy. Where is she?" He asks tentatively, wiping his face again with a dirty sleeve which does nothing to clean, merely spreads the dust and soot more.

"Keliana," repeats Morallen in a soft tenor murmur, most of his concentration settled on making sure that the stitches he's placing in the Weaver's arm are as fine as possible. Females, after all, are known to not be overly fond of really cool scars. "That's a very pretty name. I'd have to say it definitely suits its' owner. Been Weaving long?" He ties off one stitch, and starts another, repeat as necessary, and gives a wry little nod. "Aye, quite a tumble the old Hold took... I was getting jounced around with two other apprentices like we were a trio of bouncing balls."

Kurt keeps a grimy grip on Kurrin, not letting him into the hands of any of these healers but his mother. "M...m..." he stutters, the words refusing to come out of his mouth. Kurrin just bawls and bawls, scared out of his mind, even though he's in the arms of his father. Poor little guy.

Dona shakes her still perfectly immaculate curls and answers Kirsyn matter of factly "Merevan yells all the time and needs to grow up," she sounds almost like her sour ol' twin, "/I/'m Dona. And my father is The Warder here. And he'll fix everything," she says as if she means it, but there is doubt on her face.

Liesana nods to the younger Harpers, holding out her arms to give Merevan a comforting hug, should he want one. "This here is Merevan," she introduces to the others, her tone kept light and conversational. "His mother is Nanny Merenya, here at Ista. And d'you know where I think she is, Merevan?" she asks rhetorically of the little boy. "I'm sure that she's safe and busy upstairs, looking after all the /really/ little children that aren't as brave and clever as you three. And that she's probably wondering 'Where's my little Merevan gone?'."