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Harper's Tale - Thursday, November 15, 2001, 10:13 PM
-----------------------------------------------------

Gathering Hall
The room seems to loom as you enter, though the warmth within easily overcomes that feeling. It's huge, easily taking up a good third of the hall, and offering room for most people to sit and chat. The heat of the great hearth on the far wall spreads throughout, the merry crackling adding a peaceful undertone to the usually occupied room, heard even above the murmer of voices. Tables are all but littered about, pulled into and out of place by friends at a regular basis. Several more permanent tables and benches are settled along the far edge, an ever-full klah pot and several trays of various and sundry snacks almost always set out for the hungry and bored. The walls are decorated, tapestries denoting every part of Pern society strung about. Along the wall above the kitchen, in particular, is the pride and joy of the weavers: a string of dragons flying Threadfall. The vibrant flames and metallic hues of the dragons seem to glow as the flickering firelight strikes them. Above everything runs a long overhang, people passing to and fro, passing overhead of the figures and gatherings below. A handful of glowbaskets light the upper ends, the rest of the mainroom light brightly with candles and decorative lighting.
Various scents assult your nose as you walk in here. The rich smell of foods from the kitchen. The fire's smoke and heat. The sweet odors of various pipeweeds from the gossipers surrounding the hearthside table. The aromatic baskets do little here, except add their own faint undertones.
To the south, you see Nezdarvyth.
Clinging to a high beam are Fawnix, Skittles, Topaz, Krawall, Anrhydedda, and Randle.
You see Bonehead here.
Arakiel, Evan, and X'ner are here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Smith Infirmary Courtyard Grand Staircase Lower Level

Arakiel smiles up at the rider, "Can we help you?"

X'ner strides into the hall, pulling off his gloves carefully. Blink. Peer. Hmmm. Flutter. Blue and green haired bronzie looks about, focusing in on..ooh! People! Whee! "Ah! Yes! Yes yes yes. I was hoping to get a commission in.." Flutter.

Liesana is sipping at her klah, and idly examining her notebook with the knife-hole in it. Something interesting for idle examining, that. Until something more interesting arrives. Like X'ner. A nod is given in his direction, along with a smile. "Evening, bronzerider" And then an expectant glance into the silence.

Arakiel looks the rider over. A mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Here's the chance she was waiting for. Hmm... Can she talk everyone into it? She tries to catch the harper's eyes. She'll wait for the commission to be over and then talk to the rider into a ride.

X'ner
Flamboyancy abounds on this young man, starting with his hair. Somewhat wild already, the soft locks--at one time brown--are colored both blue and green, the colors alternating between carefully thought out sections to produce quite an effective display, a few locks falling down in front of his eyes occasionally. Behind the veil of blue and green, lurk a pair of cerulean eyes, endless pools surging forth from carefully hidden soul. Be careful you don't drown in eyes so deep, glittering beckoningly with amusement. Expression easily set into an almost permanent grin, the wild, carefree attitude of this bronzerider shows, leaving him giggling every few moments at some private joke or another. While is height reaches up to the six foot mark, his body is built lean, giving him a certain amount of grace and agility--very useful when acting like a complete maniac. Constantly in motion, ever laughing, a hand occasionally comes up to brush bangs away from his eyes, revealing them, and newfound grin, to the world.
Gloss'd leather; of hue so black that midnight's velvet cadence would be considered a blue, stretches firmly across X'ner's statuesque backside, the material allowing the tiniest bit of slouch - for a set of leathers that are much more... yielding. The fine musculature of X'ner's thighs and legs are traced in glistening raven, following a stout line of body's shape o'er his legs and finally being met by knee-high riding boots - the line of leathers fading nebulously into that of the wherhide footwear. If this lustrously sleek effect isn't enough, the leather's sport a rich stripe of blood-red up either leg, coruscating with the ember'd licks of tangerine and saffron in flames that simply incinerate the blackness in a pool of incandescence. A nondescript tunic is thrown, more or less haphazardly, over his leathers each day, capably directing all attention to that robust attribute which shall remain nameless - but, really, does it need to be named? Crimson wherhide encompasses the wearer in sleek brilliance, a close-fitting jacket of eye-catching fire. Soft fleece in contrasting cream peaks out from the high collar, the lining made especially warm for High Reaches' winters and the colder void of ::between::. Orange and gold flames lick up the long sleeves in tasteful embroidery: neither too flamboyant nor overly subtle, they match the flames which flicker over the Inferno Wing badge as well as the embroidered emblem on jacket's back, an exact replica of the wing's chevron-shaped insignia which rides high and proud on one crimson shoulder.
A carefully looped knot in the colors of High Reaches Weyr twined in bronze indicates his lifemate of bronze Nezdarvyth, and his position as a rider at Reaches. Added to his clothing just beneath the knot is a small pin, the emblem of High Reaches accented by licking flames, indicating he is an Inferno rider.
He is awake and looks alert.
X'ner is 20 Turns, 7 months, and 21 days old.

X'ner grins all the more. Yes, he's a rather..crazyish bronzie. Yup. Fingers brush through different-colored locks of hair, head tilting to the side a bit. Fwee! "I was hoping to be able to get a necklace made.."

Liesana is rather observent. Harper, after all. So it's not long until she catches Arakiel's attempts to catch her eye. The twinkle is mirrored, and a faintly mischeviously smile briefly touches her lips, as she waits for Evan to handle the commission, he being the only one in the room able to do so.

Evan raises a brow as he turns to X'ner, "What kind of necklace did you have in mind?"

X'ner wrinkles his nose a bit, thinking. Arms fold over his chest. Yes, he actually didn't bother thinking about /that/ part yet. "Erm...Well, not a fancy one or anything really.. Was hoping to be able to get just a basic chain with a dragon.."

Arakiel stretches lazily, then she asks, "Can I ask a favor? Liesana and I would like to to to High Reaches for a quick errand. She needs to speak to the harper there. I thought I would tag along. If that's alright?"

Lu-nar leaves his spot on your head and glides with grace into the air.

Evan chuckles, "Well, unless you mean that you want to chain something several hundred times larger than you to your neck, I wouldn't call it simple. You'll want to talk to a gem smith."

Liesana rests her elbows on the table, and laces her hands together, letting Arakiel put forward their plan. A nod here and there as she follows the conversation.
Evan frowns at Ara, "You know very well that I would have to kill you to stop you love. I suppose that it's nice you asked though."

X'ner smirks a bit. "Well I guess I'll have to do that." Blink. Oooo, ladies are in need of his assistance. That does indeed take priority over necklaces and other things. Grin. "Well I don't see a problem with it.. Sure! I'd be happy to." Well..except that Nezdarvyth enjoys kidnapping people and making them his minions..

Arakiel smirks at Evan, "I was asking the rider love. And I would be back in a couple of hours. So you don't have to worry."

Liesana nods at Evan, briskly. "Just picking up a package. Won't take long at all." She turns to collect her notebook and tuck it into her carrysack. Was that a /wink/ given to Arakiel, out of the line of sight of the other two?

X'ner chuckles softly, nodding. "Well, again, we'll be glad to give you both a ride."

Arakiel stretches and stands, "Well I'm ready. Liesana?"

Liesana finishes stowing her writing utensils in her carrysack, and slings the battered bag over one shoulder, suddenly a tad nervous. "As I'll ever be," she grins, gamely enough, following after Arakiel and the bronzer.

X'ner grins broadly. "Well then! Let's be off! Nezdarvyth is looking forward to this." So what if it's because he's trying to get new minions..

Minion or no, Liesana is going to 'Reaches. Which is the goal here, is it not? "My thanks to you, Rider," she nods, sweeping a slight bow, before ducking out the door.

You go to the Courtyard.

Courtyard
Light, whether sun or moons-light, shines through the branches of the surrounding forest area. The trees standing above the buildings create a peaceful image, the wind whispering through them calming and pleasent. Below your feet, the courtyard is paved with stone, patterns winding their way in in-set paths towards each of the buildings. A particularly bright one, lined in glimmers of metallic bronze tones, runs straight towards the main Crafthall. A few smaller trees, planted so overhanging branches shade the yard, are surrounded with decorative patterns of darker stones as well. Benches are set beneath them, and along the outside of the buildings, to give travellers and crafters, both, a place to sit when the days are particularly good.
It is an autumn afternoon.
To the north, you see three people.
Perched on a windowsill are Wobbles and Zorro.
Bronze Nezdarvyth is here.
You see Flamer Charging Unit, flamer rack, Smith Journeyman Goarin (NPC shopkeeper), Flamer Target, Craft Flamethrower1, and Keir here.
Obvious exits:
Craft Hall Stables Great Hall Path Woodcraft Building Large Clearing

X'ner slinks along in from the Gathering Hall.
Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps in from the Gathering Hall.

X'ner laughs, heading down the few steps. Nezdarvyth, coiled in the courtyard, grumbles a bit, looking at the arriving humans with slight interest. Blink. "What?" Blink. Blink. "Oh! Goodness! Sorry sorry! The name's X'ner." Manners. Who needs them?

Arakiel says, "Arakiel, headwoman."

Liesana covers a chuckle with another slight bow, this one in the direction of the dragon. Because he just seems to be That Sort Of Dragon. "Liesana, Journeywoman Harper. And well met,"

Nezdarvyth blinks, rumbling a bit. Oooooh! He got bowed to. How lovely. Yes, that one will make a good minion. Already got the bowing part down and everything. X'ner merely rolls his eyes. "Alright Nez, we're going to be /nice/ and take these two back home with us. Okay?" Snort! Nice? Dragon grumbles slightly. Fine.

Lu-nar slithers in from the shadows from ::between::

X'ner clambers up Nezdarvyth's neck with the help of an offered forelimb, willingly offering themself to the bronzer's evil ways.
Arakiel clambers up Nezdarvyth's neck with the help of an offered forelimb, willingly offering themself to the bronzer's evil ways.
You clamber up Nezdarvyth's neck and set yourself between two neckridges.

Nezdarvyth [Courtyard]
Quicksilver flares along bronzed adamantine hide, glinting in the faintest of light. Copper reacts blue-green down steely edges crystallizing at the peaks of serrated neckridges. Iron taints hot poker spines which prowl with single-minded purpose along vaulted chest before cooling, and skulking into the murky tin that vulcanizes strident muscles in thick limbs. From there scales broil upwards into the tempered facade of underbelly, obvious in pale caramel vulnerability and guarded almost secretly, as if it wasnt really there... Prisms of quartz and granite tunnel up whip-like neck, liquid metals melting along the lines of his wedged head, sheer 'knobs and pungent maw. Strength of form gives way to a dangerous elegance, however, at his slated wings. While spars of lace-like aluminium at first, deceptively, appear brittle, their flinty prowess braces wide sails, jetted with plum-streaked bronze, accentuating hues lurking within his gunmetal flanks.
Fastened securely to Nezdarvyth's neck is a pair of riding straps, well-oiled to keep them in good condition. Double folded and sewn with great care, though not great ability, they are quite sturdy. Two buckles glisten on the leather straps, one down on Nezdarvyth's middle, and the other fastening the straps together. The most time, however, seems to have been spent on dyeing the straps themselves, as they have been painstakingly colored a very dark black, streaked with..pink? Yes, a very bright pink streaks along in places on the leather straps. It was all the dragon's idea, really.
Astride Nezdarvyth are X'ner and Arakiel.
Nezdarvyth seems to be listening.

X'ner settles, buckling himself into the straps, and looks back. "You two all ready?"

Liesana gives a couple final good sharp tugs at her straps, before deciding that she's satisfied. "Ready, aye, ready," she nods, taking a mild death grip on the leathers, rather than the big bronzes' neckridges.

Lu-nar slips into the darkness and disappears ::between::

Arakiel straps herself in, and adjusts her veils, "I'm ready."

You leap into the sky!
Above Smith Hall
Below is the Smith Hall. Off to the south, you can just make out Ista Hold. The Hold Valley stretches away to the southwest. The Emerald Valley is directly west from here.
It is an autumn afternoon.
On the watchrider's ledge, you see Pintarryth.
Obvious exits:
Smith Hall South Southwest West Ledge

Nezdarvyth vanishes into the void of ::between::, leaving behind the echo of an evil cackle.

:::BETWEEN!:::

You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

Above High Reaches
Quite, quite high, nothing braves these heights but stone and dragon and cloud; the Star Stones jut dutifully above the Weyr proper, flayed by the mountain winds that are consistant at this altitude whilst the rest spreads below, protected by its crown of jagged stone spires'-teeth.
It is an autumn afternoon. A light drizzle is falling everywhere. The clouds have obscured the sun and are growing darker by the moment. The rain is slightly warm but cooling quickly.
Bronze Cairhoth, green Jhiateshyrth, and blue Zylpheth are here.
Obvious exits:
Weyr Over The Mountains Star Stones Weyrling Air

Nezdarvyth appears in a flash of spinning gears and broken cogs. Drat! The super duper invention of world domination broke!
You abandon the view from high above the bowl and circle lower, passing the Spires and Star Stones on the way down.

Above the Bowl
The ocean's tranquil thermals settle within the center section of the bowl's airspace, unusually smooth and bouyant -- though oft to switch as the seasons shift. Lingering beneath spires' constant presence, the perpetual activity of the weyr can be observed from every direction: from the testing rustle of dragonet wings, to the playful games sent aloft.
It is an autumn afternoon. A light drizzle is falling everywhere. The clouds have obscured the sun and are growing darker by the moment. The rain is slightly warm but cooling quickly.
Gliding around are Rowan and Cybele.
Obvious exits:
Northern Sky Weyrling Air Above the Pens Above the Lake Ledges

Wings tired? Or you just want to feel solid earth beneath your paws...

Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is an autumn afternoon. A light drizzle is falling everywhere. The clouds have obscured the sun and are growing darker by the moment. The rain is slightly warm but cooling quickly.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are sixteen firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, gold Chayath, bronze Jhanath, bronze Rixesith, blue Lainnoth, green Estsanth, green Ayamizureth, and gold Tiareth are here.
You see a wagonmaster, George Dubya bush, Trash n Treasures, Trey's Trumbling Wagon, and Wagon Two here.
Obvious exits:
Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ

Liesana had let out a whuffing breath of air at the re-emergence into normal space, still far from used to betweening. Now that they're back on solid ground, she's working at removing her straps, ready to slither to the ground. "My thanks for a swift trip,"

Arakiel shudders from coming out of between. Well, she is only wearing veils. "Can you wait here for us? We'll be right back."

X'ner nods quickly. "No problem at all! I can wait."

You slide gently down Nezdarvyth's neck and land with a soft thud.
Arakiel is freed from Nezdarvyth's clutches, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

Arakiel motions Liesana to lead the way

Liesana nods, and ducks into the caverns at a quick trot.

You go to the Living Caverns.
Living Caverns
The rough-hewn majesty of this cavern far outpaces any delight in the multitudes of curves that form its enclosure. The glabrous grey granite is shot through with translucent obsidian, lending subtly-veined sparkle to the walls and the foot-trodden smoothness of the floor that shows centuries-old placements of the scarred trestle tables; carven hollows give homes for the glow baskets and the coat-pegs that line the walls. No mosaics, no painting, no tiles: just a few well-done tapestries mark the pathway that lead to the kitchen to the north and the inner caverns to the west, and frame the nighthearth's stew and snacks, while a heavier strip of oiled canvas shields the unwary from the wind in the bowl.
Scattered about in various perches and niches are fifty-five firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), White Clay Egg Pot, and a trundlebug here.
Kryz and Kazyndra are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchens Inner Caverns Crafting Area

Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps in from the Central Bowl.

Liesana slips in with a quiet tread, slinking along the wall, hopefully unseen, as she attempts to find her quarry. A certain fellow Harper and Journeyman. Kazyndra is flashed a wink and a thumbs up, before her attention shifts over to a glance at Arakiel, inquiring a mouthed 'Now What?' Kidnapping is a little outside her area of expertise.

Arakiel slips in and goes passed Liesana, taking a veil off, silently she moves into the room. Going up to Kryz, she suddenly moving fast, pounces on Kryz, tieing his hands together. Then before he comes fully awake, ties another veil on his face.

Kryz lets out a half of a scream sound before he hits the floor. He puts up a slight stuggle before his hands are tied. Basically this harper is REALLY confused.... and all the blame goes on his crazy rider friends. He freezes.... waiting for whoever to release him not expecting this to be a /real/ kidnapping.

Kazyndra has to stiffle a giggle with her hand over her mouth. She's staying out of this one. Yep. No saying anything about what may or may not be going on.

Liesana had been looking fairly amused at Arakiel's actions, until Kryz starts squirming. A slight gasp is heard from the other co-conspirator. Who hadn't quite realized realized how impressive Arakiel In Action can be. Then amusement returns. Oh, he'll kill her later, but now, this is pretty funny. The grin returns. "Thanks for bringing him out for air, Zyn." she intones, before glancing at Arakiel "Should we get him to our ride home? Want help?" So far, she's done a whole lot of... standing around.

Arakiel smirks, "I'll need help." She pulls Kryz to his feet, his eyes and hands tied with her veils. "I have a knife and I'll use it. Come with me." She taps a bare blade on his arm.

Kryz is drug to his feet as he lets out slight laugh. "Real funny Shawn...," he says pulling at the ties on his hand... just making them tighter if nothing else. "You can let me go... we all got our laughs..."

Liesana tries /very/ hard to avoid bursting into laughter, and giving the game away with the familiar sound. So instead, she scuttles over to Harper and Headwoman, and takes Kryz's other arm, pulling a fake accent as she intones gruffly "Aye. Jest keep y'self quiet 'an do as we say, an' nobody'll be gettin' hurt." She has no clue if a 'real' kidnapper would use that line, but she's heard it in a play before.

Arakiel's voice isn't disguised. There's no need and she isn't laughing. She pushes Kryz to the door, "Move." Oh Evan is going to kill her for this stunt, but she's going to enjoy it."

Kryz stumbles towards the door between the two. "Ok, ok... I said you can let me go now...," he says with a sigh still trying to get free. "This is getting old already. I have work to do."

Bundle up 'gainst snow or sun! The bowl is open to seasons' wrath.

Central Bowl
Seven spindles brush the clouds -- quite literally -- overhead, a jagged, spired cotillion grey-stoned majesty. The bowl from here is expansively large, extending a full half mile in both directions, and although sometimes a bit of a stretch, most of the hubs of activity can be easily observed. Hard-packed ground shows the common pathways, all of them meandering about the craggy bunch of boulders that form a centerpiece: carven, hand-worn and foothold-full, it gives a bit of centerpoint to the otherwise vast emptiness of the area.
To the north lie the hatching grounds and leadership weyrs, while the lows of herdbeasts mark the feeding pens to the northeast. A flurry of ever-present activity marks the living caverns to the west, and another time-traveled path the ground weyrs just adjacent to the southwest. Southeast, a glint of blue shows the lake, glittering and cold.
It is an autumn sunset. The sun is disappearing in the west, but clouds still cover the sky. Rain is falling steadily and the air is getting chillier.
Clinging to footholds in the boulder-mound are sixteen firelizards.
Green Kelitath, green Zoryanth, gold Chayath, bronze Jhanath, bronze Rixesith, blue Lainnoth, green Estsanth, green Ayamizureth, gold Tiareth, bronze Nezdarvyth, and green Vespurath are here.
You see a wagonmaster, George Dubya bush, Trash n Treasures, Trey's Trumbling Wagon, and Wagon Two here.
Obvious exits:
Pens Northern Bowl Caverns Ground Weyrs Lakeside Guards HQ

Kryz steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.
Arakiel steps out from the Weyr's living caverns.

Nezdarvyth
Quicksilver flares along bronzed adamantine hide, glinting in the faintest of light. Copper reacts blue-green down steely edges crystallizing at the peaks of serrated neckridges. Iron taints hot poker spines which prowl with single-minded purpose along vaulted chest before cooling, and skulking into the murky tin that vulcanizes strident muscles in thick limbs. From there scales broil upwards into the tempered facade of underbelly, obvious in pale caramel vulnerability and guarded almost secretly, as if it wasnt really there... Prisms of quartz and granite tunnel up whip-like neck, liquid metals melting along the lines of his wedged head, sheer 'knobs and pungent maw. Strength of form gives way to a dangerous elegance, however, at his slated wings. While spars of lace-like aluminium at first, deceptively, appear brittle, their flinty prowess braces wide sails, jetted with plum-streaked bronze, accentuating hues lurking within his gunmetal flanks.
Fastened securely to Nezdarvyth's neck is a pair of riding straps, well-oiled to keep them in good condition. Double folded and sewn with great care, though not great ability, they are quite sturdy. Two buckles glisten on the leather straps, one down on Nezdarvyth's middle, and the other fastening the straps together. The most time, however, seems to have been spent on dyeing the straps themselves, as they have been painstakingly colored a very dark black, streaked with..pink? Yes, a very bright pink streaks along in places on the leather straps. It was all the dragon's idea, really.
Astride Nezdarvyth is X'ner.
Nezdarvyth is 2 Turns, 1 month, and 13 days old.
He is 71 feet (23m) long, with a wingspan of 118 feet (39m).
Nezdarvyth seems to be listening.

Arakiel pushes the veil tied Kryz to the dragon. "This isn't a joke. Climb the dragon and we'll go."

From Nezdarvyth's neck, X'ner blinks, looking down at the two women and their..captive? "..Oh dear.." Snicker.

Kryz stops in his tracks. "Ok, jokes over. no dragon...no flying! Let me go...," and.... his voice starts to sound a bit paniced at the mention of a dragon.

Liesana strolls back out, looking highly amused, and happily tugging at one side of a blindfolded and hand-bound Kryz.

Arakiel pushes Kryz to the dragon, "That's too bad. You're going. And you can go easy or we can toss you over the dragon."

Kryz is pushed forward as he suddelny yells, "Look, I'm not goign anywhere. I ahve work to do. would you just cut this out." And yes, he sounds rather ticked now.

From Nezdarvyth's neck, X'ner laughs, shaking his head. What /did/ he agree to doing?! It doesn't matter, Nezdarvyth is all for it, tilting his head down to nudge at the tied-person. Oooh..bwhahhahahaa!!!

Liesana watches Kryz grow steadily more irate, stifling laughter all the while. And the chuckles emanating from the bronzer up above, and the nosing the the dragon just aren't helping on that score. Ordinarily, she'd just tell him to get on the dragon. But let's see how this plays out...

Arakiel pushes the harper to the dragon, "I could use some help here. Let's get him loaded before we cause a scene."

Liesana nods at Arakiel, giving a shove from her side as well, and dropping her hokey attempt at an accent to intone calmly "Kryz. Just get on the dragon." Perhaps startlement will work. If not, that's what bronzeriders are for, right? Three folks ought to be able to shove him aboard.

Kryz tries his hardest to avoid the dragon. If thre's one thing this harper hates... it's dragons, adn another is flying. He struggles to get away, but can't with the others pulling at him and is eventually pulled onto the dragon.

You clamber up Nezdarvyth's neck and set yourself between two neckridges.

Arakiel tugs, pushes, straps the harper into place

Kryz clambers up Nezdarvyth's neck with the help of an offered forelimb, willingly offering themself to the bronzer's evil ways.
Arakiel clambers up Nezdarvyth's neck with the help of an offered forelimb, willingly offering themself to the bronzer's evil ways.

Arakiel says, "Let's get out of here."

You take off.
Above the Bowl
The ocean's tranquil thermals settle within the center section of the bowl's airspace, unusually smooth and bouyant -- though oft to switch as the seasons shift. Lingering beneath spires' constant presence, the perpetual activity of the weyr can be observed from every direction: from the testing rustle of dragonet wings, to the playful games sent aloft.
It is an autumn sunset. The sun is disappearing in the west, but clouds still cover the sky. Rain is falling steadily and the air is getting chillier.
Gliding around are Rowan and Cybele.
Obvious exits:
Northern Sky Weyrling Air Above the Pens Above the Lake Ledges

Nezdarvyth vanishes into the void of ::between::, leaving behind the echo of an evil cackle.

:::BETWEEN!:::

You hang, senseless, in the dark nothingness of ::between::... absolute darkness surrounds you, and the profound cold stings you... you wait, and count...
Black...
Blacker...
Blackest...

Above Smith Hall
Below is the Smith Hall. Off to the south, you can just make out Ista Hold. The Hold Valley stretches away to the southwest. The Emerald Valley is directly west from here.
It is an autumn sunset.
On the watchrider's ledge, you see Pintarryth.
Obvious exits:
Smith Hall South Southwest West Ledge

Nezdarvyth appears in a flash of spinning gears and broken cogs. Drat! The super duper invention of world domination broke!
You glide down for a landing.

Courtyard
Light, whether sun or moons-light, shines through the branches of the surrounding forest area. The trees standing above the buildings create a peaceful image, the wind whispering through them calming and pleasent. Below your feet, the courtyard is paved with stone, patterns winding their way in in-set paths towards each of the buildings. A particularly bright one, lined in glimmers of metallic bronze tones, runs straight towards the main Crafthall. A few smaller trees, planted so overhanging branches shade the yard, are surrounded with decorative patterns of darker stones as well. Benches are set beneath them, and along the outside of the buildings, to give travellers and crafters, both, a place to sit when the days are particularly good.
It is an autumn sunset.
To the north, you see one person.
Perched on a windowsill are Wobbles and Zorro.
You see Flamer Charging Unit, flamer rack, Smith Journeyman Goarin (NPC shopkeeper), Flamer Target, Craft Flamethrower1, and Keir here.
Obvious exits:
Craft Hall Stables Great Hall Path Woodcraft Building Large Clearing

Arakiel is freed from Nezdarvyth's clutches, landing with a soft thud on the ground.
You slide gently down Nezdarvyth's neck and land with a soft thud.
Kryz is freed from Nezdarvyth's clutches, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

Arakiel slides off, shuddering a bit from the cold. Untying her prisoner from teh dragon but leaving the veils in place. "let's get him inside before we release him." Waving to the rider, "thanks for the rider."

Liesana hops off, and once again takes Kryz by the arm, tipping another slight bow to dragon and rider. "My thanks for your help!"

You go to the Gathering Hall.

Gathering Hall
The room seems to loom as you enter, though the warmth within easily overcomes that feeling. It's huge, easily taking up a good third of the hall, and offering room for most people to sit and chat. The heat of the great hearth on the far wall spreads throughout, the merry crackling adding a peaceful undertone to the usually occupied room, heard even above the murmer of voices. Tables are all but littered about, pulled into and out of place by friends at a regular basis. Several more permanent tables and benches are settled along the far edge, an ever-full klah pot and several trays of various and sundry snacks almost always set out for the hungry and bored. The walls are decorated, tapestries denoting every part of Pern society strung about. Along the wall above the kitchen, in particular, is the pride and joy of the weavers: a string of dragons flying Threadfall. The vibrant flames and metallic hues of the dragons seem to glow as the flickering firelight strikes them. Above everything runs a long overhang, people passing to and fro, passing overhead of the figures and gatherings below. A handful of glowbaskets light the upper ends, the rest of the mainroom light brightly with candles and decorative lighting.
Various scents assult your nose as you walk in here. The rich smell of foods from the kitchen. The fire's smoke and heat. The sweet odors of various pipeweeds from the gossipers surrounding the hearthside table. The aromatic baskets do little here, except add their own faint undertones.
To the south, you see Nezdarvyth and one person.
Clinging to a high beam are Fawnix, Skittles, Topaz, Krawall, Anrhydedda, and Randle.
You see Bonehead here.
Evan and Kryz are here.
Obvious exits:
Kitchen Smith Infirmary Courtyard Grand Staircase Lower Level

Kryz is led in by Liesana.
Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps in from the Courtyard.

Arakiel enters with a veiled tied young man. her veils, her prisoner. Well time to face the music as she unties the young harper.

Liesana arranges herself so that she's facing Kryz when the veils are removed, a rather large grin on the journeywoman's face. "Hello there, stranger,"

Kryz blinks and takes a step back looking around. "Where am I?" is the first thing he says followed by, "LIES! What in the world?! You know I have work to do.... I can't believe...."

Arakiel goes to Evan and slides into her chair, her part in this over. She's waiting for Evan's explosion.

Liesana is waiting as well, but in the mean time she has Kryz to deal with. Although a Kryz explosion doesn't have 1/100th the magnitude of an Evan one. "Believe it." she chuckles. "And don't tell me about work... I've been keeping in touch with your mentees, and both of them were of the mind that you needed a vacation. Why else do you think Zyn picked tonight of all nights to haul you out into the living caverns?"

Hynolonie walks in from the Class Room.
You notice Hynolonie gazing upon your form.

Evan frowns at the two as they come back into the hall... "Is someone from one of the other halls or holds going to demand my head on a spike??" He questions, his voice even colder than usual.

Arakiel shrugs, "I doubt it as far as I'm understanding things, "These two are in love and both are harpers."

Kryz listens to the statement from Arakiel and turns rather red. "I don't know where you get your information from," he stutters flustered then turns back ti Liesana. "Lies... look... if you wanted me to visit...ask! I mean...what was that?? and my mentees know I have to get my work done... and...," he pulls the hat from his head to run a hand through the short oddly colored strands and lets out a sigh. nothing he can really do now so complaining really isn't any good.

Evan nods, "and why did she need help to drag her lover off then? Most couples like that sort of thing."
OOC: Evan says "Move my pose before Kryz's?"

Hynolonie blinks. Well, well, well... what was this she just happened to stumble upon. The girl twitches her eyebrows as she pads into the room, watching all four of the people silently. Kryz.. she knew from the hall, and Liesana was the reason she was here.. as for the other two... They were intersting enough. She grins to herself and settles into a chair, hiding most her form behind it and peeks at the crowd.

Arakiel smirks, "Why Evan, from my informants, he's a worse then you when it comes to work. Since I couldn't talk Liesana into taking a smith lover, she has her heart set on this harper."

Liesana likewise flushes a slight shade of pink. Lover? These two journeyfolk are about as holdbred as it's possible to be. But the smile still remains as she intones to Kryz that "I /did/ ask... And knowing you, your work, and your distaste for flying, it would be a warm day in ::between:: before I saw you, you'd probably work yourself sick again, and Arakiel was dead set on fixing me up with a Smith." A nod to the lady in question. "Want some klah?" she queries, with a rapid change up subject, and a quirk of an eyebrow.

Evan mutters to himself, clearly unhappy. He turns to Kryz, "If you wish to borrow a blade or three I would be happy to make several available."

Kryz tries to follow all of this, but falls short. The redness of his face shows he caught a FEW things. He shakes his head adn mutters, "no thanks," to Evan before meandering towards lies to get some Klah.

Hynolonie scoots her wooden chair across the stone ground, looking dead at Liesana as she does. She didn't want to just invite herself into conversation, so making noise would be good. She does notice Evan as he moves away from the group, grinning at him. If Liesana was too busy, maybe this guy would talk to her.

Arakiel raises an eyebrow at Evan, well there'll probably be words between them later. She shrugs as she watchs the harpers. She doesn't say anythign yet.

Liesana's head jerks up at the noise from Hynolonie's chair, and she tips a nod to the mentee, a trifle absently as she pours the klah, handing one mug to Kryz and another to herself, and settling at a nearby table with a quirky sort of grin. Oh, she was right, and he's a little peeved, but peeved she can handle. "Well, this time I skipped over Anjula and Niara?" she queries.

Evan stands and heads upstairs, muttering to himself.

Kryz nods slightly as he plops into one of the chairs. HE rests his elbow on the table and leans his head in his hands. Yes, this harper is slightly ticked right now, but nothing he won't get over. His eyes go from Lies to Arakiel then back again... "Ok....so why am I here?" he asks not having caught the explaiination the first time.

Evan goes home.

Hynolonie hums to herself as she wanders over to find a mug for herself before filling it with juice. .and grabbing a meatroll. She found a new chair to settle into, a place were she can watch the discussion that was bound to ensue.

Arakiel seeing that the harper has it well in hand, she follows Evan up the stairs. Well, it'll be a storming next few days.

Liesana props her elbows on the table and leans forwards, her chin resting on her hands. A nod is tipped in the direction of Arakiel, before she returns to looking at Kryz in perfect calm. Irritating trait of the diplomat. She glances at Hynolonie again, before deciding that her mentee will likely hear this in gossip anyways. "Why? Because we need to talk, Kryz. About us. Whatever 'us' is, we need to decide it, and that won't happen if we can't meet each other face to face."

Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps to the Grand Staircase.
From the balcony above, Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps in from the Gathering Hall.
From the balcony above, Arakiel with swishing of veils, steps to the West Wing.

Kryz leans back in his chair, "Oh, what a great way to talk.... kidnap me and force me to come to....Smith, right?" He lets out a sigh and looks back at Liesana. "Look... I don't know what you want to talk about... I mean..." he lets out another flusterd noise. He wasn't ready for this today.

Liesana nods. "Yeah, this is Smith Hall. And I think you know what we need to talk about." She sips at her klah. "Look, I'm sorry for the bluntness of the method, but subtlety just wasn't working. We tried taking that Keroon trip, and nothing got resolved. We tried talking when you visited here, but knives were flying." A wry chuckle. "Our track record shows that we never talk about anything serious until /after/ we've yelled and screamed at each other, so might as well cut to the chase."

Hynolonie resists the urge to clap her hands and chant in a sing-songy voice... Yell and scream.. yell and scream... but instead, remains silent. Perhaps, they'd forget that she was there, then they'd say such intersting things.

Kryz glances down at his klah. Nice klah.... it wont force him to talk. He shrugs his shoulder and mummbles, "well if you didn't wanna fight you could have chose a better way to get me here..."

Hynolonie has disconnected.
Hynolonie falls asleep.

The klah won't, but Liesana will. Evil female. Who's... chuckling? Odd. But she's definitely chuckling. "Oh, I suppose I could have, but it really was worth it to see your expression... And thinking it was Shawn being a pest. But in future I promise I won't kidnap you. How's that? Deal?" A hand is solemnly extended across the table.

Kryz nods, "Fine, deal...." he says, not offering his hand back. What kind of deal is that? Not like he was going to kidnap her... or like she has reason to do that again.

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