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Harper's Tale - Wednesday, March 13, 2002, 
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Cobweb'd Caverns
Webspinners' gossamer silk silvers the upper edges of these caverns, catching at the turns of dust adrift on the rare breeze. The forgotten remnants of tapestries have fallen into disrepair, worn threadbare and thin where it once warmed these old walls. The glowlights are dim, and even when uncovered flicker with a faint, grimy light that only accentuates the rooms' disuse.
A footpath through the musty dirt follows a narrow and twisted trail, eventually ending at an old cave-in... or does it?

If you brave the shadows, you just might find a narrow crevice that looks out onto the sands. Try the secret passwords: <help here> to peek.
Lingering in the shadows are three firelizards.
Kirana is here.
Obvious exits:
Caverns
Ah-ha, you have discovered a secret corridor.

Sikkyen slips quietly into the secret passage.
Lhana slips quietly into the secret passage.
Jundi slips quietly into the secret passage.

Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of 'Reaches? The shadow knows. And in this room, take your pick of them. From out of one of the shadows appears a cloaked figure, pulling back her hood to reveal Miralwyn, a feral light in her eyes, and the Scroll of Doom clutched in her hands. "It is time to begin..." she drawls, near purring with a manic satisfaction that finds eccape only in a pair of dancing gray optics.

A female voice amongst the cloaked shadows decides that Wyn's comment is deserving of maniacal laughter. She does an eerily good job, too, as the laughter echoes off the walls and fades off in the distance. Creepy. Of course, Jundi proceeds to go into a coughing fit, which dampens the effect somewhat.

Lhana handily dons her billowing, black-with-far-too-many-pink-beads cloak, trying her best to /ignore/ the cobwebs hanging about in the old cavern. "Helloooo everyone," she says, doing her best to look and sound forboding and scary. She is thwarted however, by a heavy dose of dayglo pink. Ah well...a girl can try, right? A quick glance out at her favorite eggie, and the self-styled Pretty Candie turns about to loom appropriately. "Yesssss," she hisses, "let usssss..." And abruptly, she stops. "Okay, this is stupid," she announces, whispering, scary-voice lost in a sudden contrast. Well okay - her cloak /is/ pretty fabulous, but still... What she meant to be a prissy plop inadvertantly becomes a swift, frightening, loom, and she lurks upon the top of a rock, an odd mix of rediculous and forboding.

No sound comes from under booted feet; alurking member, hugging the dark corners of the walls, finally comes out -- with a flash of faint silver, the crunch of pebbles beneath feet, a cloaked, robed figure arrives; two pairs of eyes, glistening quicksilver pools remniscent of chrome, glint with intensity. Deep within his warm, wherhide cloak, Sikkyen gives an unseen smirk; "It /is/ time," is murmured, his lowly growled words unintendedly ominous.

Another cloaked figure slinks in, her movements carefully planned to get the cloak to swish and billow dramatically. "Tiiimmeee...." A female voice echos, doing it's best to sound deep, creepy and drama-tized. Her hood is pulled back to reveal Kirana's face, her curls caught up in a black band, a hint of soot smudged under her eyes, for extra effect. She glances at Lhana, "Shhh!" she whispers, "Your ruining the mood!" Back to echoing. "Tiiimmeeee..."

With a crackle of parchment quite fitting to the scene, Miralwyn unrolls her plans. "Behold..." she intones. "The Scroll of Doo-" she trails off to aim a withering look in Lhana's direction. "I have never heard of one of the wraiths in the campfire tales calling anything 'stupid'." she notes dryly, and then arches an eyebrow at the cloak. "For that matter, I have yet to hear of a wraith that wore -pink- -beads-..." Cough, echoing in the dusty chamber. "Whatever." She lowers her tone again, although drops the pretensions. "Here is the plan. We have our disguises, we have stealth and speed, and the element of surprise. /They/ have superior numbers, and a finely honed sense of paranoia. Our goal: Acquire two large cauldrons, a firestone sack full of lime, a bucket of salt, enough water to fill the two cauldrons, and a half-sack of charcoal. Think we're up to it, my fellow Wraiths?"

Jundi goes into another coughing fit as her reply. "Erk. I mean. Yesssss," she whispers hoarsley, reminding herself not to do maniacal laughter any more. It rubs the throat raw. "Do we have assignments?" Not that she cares what she does or who she works with, but it would be pretty silly if everyone ran off and got a bucket of salt.

Lhana heaves a sigh, pulls her hood up over her head to obscure her obviously non-frightening expression, and offers a rather half-hearted "Yesss...time..." Dampening mood seems to be quickly ebbing away, however, in her current surroundings, she gets back into it. If only to contradict Wyn. "Okay, it'sss not sssstupid. And the pink beadsss are for effect!" Hmph. And Hissing, Pink Prankwraith crosses her arms sulkily. "Of course!" she says in reply to Miralwyn, forgetting for the moment that's she's supposed to hissssss. Cough. "Err...I mean...indeed." A sharp glare for Jundi - only /Lhana's/ allowed to hiss here - and she adds another affirming nod from 'neath shadowing hood.

The shiniest PrankWraith shifts his weight, idly returning to a parade-rest stance; he growls out his words: "Of course we're up to it. We were trained for this moment." Okay, so Ike's overdramatic. "Assign us, Oh Leader," is intoned, comedy-lighted eyes shaded towards Miralwyn.

Kirana nods slowly, "Understaaaand..." She drops the whole one-word-echo thing, graduating to sentences. "Yes....assignments...do we have them?" She asks, voice still low and very fitting of some sort of eerie background music. She shoves an unruly blonde curl deeper in the folds of her cloak to hide it, "What is it you wish for each of us to do?" She intones, hunching a bit. Cackle.

Miralwyn sweeps a low and cloth-rustling bow to the Circle, and taps a leather shrouded finger against her plans, a low and inadvertently sinister laugh escaping her, alto voice echoing richly against the cavern walls. "Lhhhhannaaaaa" she moans eerily, getting into the act. "You will be in charge of collecting the charcoal. Juundiiii... will fetch the lime. Kiranaaa, Ssssiikkyen, you two and I will raid the kitchens for salt, cauldrons, and water. Sikkyen, you can carry the cauldrons, as you are the strongest member of this circle..."

Fyria wraps herself a little tighter in her cloak, frowning up at the various spinnerwebs that decorate these dimlit caverns in an ethereal curtain. She pauses, midstep, upon catching sight of her fellow candidates, sneaking a hand out to wave at them cheerfully. "Hey..." she says, a quirky smile on her lips.

Okay, Ike's getting tired. He shifts, juts out one knee in a more relaxed pose, and flips his hood back. Looking even paler than typical in his dark-as-midnight cloak, sleek ebon hair tied back, Sikkyen gives a slight nod. "Cauldrons. Got it." Fyria's glanced at, and the ex-'hand yawns. Yawn.

Jundi beams. "Lime. I can do lime. ... Wait, what sort of lime? Why do we need lime, anyway?" Jundi frowns, realizing she doesn't understand the purpose of her object. "What's my motivation here?" And, come to think about it, she leans over and whispers to Lhana, "Hey, where do you get lime, anyway?"

Lhana huffs at Sikkyen. "Hey!" she demands, her shout echoing about the room not-so-eerily, "How come /she/ gets to be the leader?!" Especially when someone so splendiferous as she is around. But she returns to the wraith-ish moment in a swift instant. "I shall get one of the cauldronssss." Yes, that sounds like a good - oh. "No. I have a better idea." One which she thought of herself, of course. Cough. "I sssshall get the charcoal." Hopefully without getting any on herself, as well. A quick, whispered aside to whoever's sitting nearest her - "Where, exactly, /is/ the charcoal?" - and she cringes. Why is it that the cavern had to choose *this* *moment* to become so echoey and scary? A shrug for Jundi, and then a quick, sharp glance is then sent Fyria's way - can't she see she's ruining the moment? And another for Ike, too. Just when she's getting into it, they all decide to wreck it for her. Pout.

Kirana reaches behind her, fiddling with her hood for a moment. Sometimes the big floppy ones really get in the way. "Yesssss Wynzzzz...." She hiss-intones, before straightening, "I can help with the cauldrons if it's too much for Ike too." She adds in her normal tone, though her voice is still dropped a bit for secrecys sake. She's no weakling, swimming does a lot for a girls strength. "Salt, water...right. Oh well, your coming with us anyway." So it's not likely she'll be able to forget.

Sikkyen pauses, and flashes that lazily-drawled smile of his at Kirana. "I'm good to go for the cauldrons. Ain't nothin' like feed sacks, I can assure you.." And he carried those two at a time. Being a stablehand doesn't create any weakling, either. "Who's getting the lime?" is finally inquired. And the player's posing out of turn, because he can't remember the order. "Oh. Jundi. 'Trines is where the lime is.."

Miralwyn just... eyes Lhana from under her cloak. "Because it's my idea, and everyone else seems to wish me to be leading." she replies coolly, dispatching personality conflicts with a figurative wave of her hand. For the moment anyways. There's Wraithing to be done. "Fyria... You can either help with the lime or the charcoal. You will find the lime in the privies, Jundi." A ghost of a smile, and a faint laugh. "What Sikkyen said. Now, if we've not any questions, let's ready ourselves for the show." That said, she flips the hood back down over her face, obscuring sight of herself.

Jundi makes a slightly disgusted face. Well, or it could be assumed by her tone that she is -- its a bit hard to tell, what with being Wraithlike and all. "The latrines. Joy. You'll come help me, right, Fyria?" She turns pleadingly to the other girl, not really wanting to take her task alone.

"Charcoal? What in Far---OHhhh..." Fyria nods her head slowly, realization - and the memory of Wyn's proposed prank - coming to fore. "Soo...it begins, eh?" Her eyes gleam wickedly in the faint light as she stares at the others. "Mm...I think I'll take the charcoal..." No need for her to go to the privies unless she has to.

Lhana hmphs, crossing her arms and going into a sulk again. "Fine." Sulk, sulk. "Well, where's the charcoal, then?" Her tone is normal, though a bit subdued for the sake of the moment, as she stands, dayglo pink beads rustling as she does so. A little, self-satisfied look is tossed Jundi-wards - at least Lhana doesn't have to go to the latrines - and she pulls her hood low over her face, then pulls it back up a little bit when she realizes she can't actually /see/ that way. A smile for Fyria. "Do you know where they arrre?" There's that whispery, Wraith-tone again. Yessir, she is back in the game.

Kirana twinkles at Ike, "I'll take your word on it." She assures, before following WraithLeader's example and pulling her hood up over her face, so it casts a shadow, masking her face. "Y'know everyones going to see you in those beads." She remarks absently from under her hood to Lhana.

Sikkyen idylically flips up the hood of his own, and returns to his parade's rest. "When do we start?" is half-whispered, half-rumbled, tone low. "..an'.. everyone /is/ going to know who she is, but.. Oh well." A pause, and he gives a silent shrug.

Fyria snugs her cloak around her a bit more, dark hair and eyes easily adding to the 'wraith-ish' effect the others are going for. "Charcoal's easy, Lhana. We can sneak out to the weyrling area and find some, considering they've held firebreathing practice out there." Charred things equals charcoal. Unless the thing's alive, in which case it'd equal ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. "We might also find some in the hearth - could even give the pretense that we're cleaning it out..." Scheme. Plot. Cackle.

"Anything black. Cromcoal will do as well." notes Wyn, swirling her cloak about her in the best WraithLeader fashion. "We need it for colouring one batch of whitewash black." More swirling of the cloak wraps it around herself, and from that vampire-esque pose "We start... now. Move out to the Living Caverns and disperse, so that none may know the location of our lair..."

Sikkyen blinks upwards, and dips his head formally, hood falling even lower. "None shall know," is whispered faintly, and he half-turns, silver-lined 'hide cloak dropping and swirling about him. "We shall go," is announced, then. Heh. There we go.

Kirana raises a hand to her hood edge, saluting, "Yes ma'am Wynz ma'am." She says, before hunching slightly, turning with a flurish so her cloak billows and flies behind her dramatically. "We shall not be seen." Is intoned.

Fyria lifts her hood over her face, but says nothing, instead nodding at her co-conspirators with a wicked smile. Two pinpoints of light are all that's seen beneath the shadow of fabric as she indicates for the others to lead the way with a hand that looks eerily pale against the midnight cloth.

Miralwyn clasps her hands in front of her, before snaking them upwards in a billow of dark fabric. "Then fly, my Wraiths, fly! To pranking, to mayhem, to mischief..." A breath, and she vanishes on a final phrase. "Away! Return hence when your quest is complete!"

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-seven firelizards.
You see OOC NOTICE (look sign), White Clay Egg Pot, Thief, and Vtol here.
Daeyn, Niea, and Rianna are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl     Kitchens     Inner Caverns     Crafting Area

Fyria comes out of the kitchens, the smell of fresh baking following just behind.
Sikkyen comes out of the kitchens, the smell of fresh baking following just behind.

Daeyn stretches out in a chair with a mug of tea balanced almost delicately in the clasp of two fingers, watching the ripples of breath on the surface rather than bothering to drink. She sits up at the entrance of the child, one eyebrow lifting.

Kirana comes out of the kitchens, the smell of fresh baking following just behind.

"Yeah, what are you looking at?" Niea asks, jutting her pointed chin towards Daeyn. "Just 'cause I'm new here doesn't mean you gotta stare."

A scurry, a footfall that's suspiciously similar to the clop of a cloven hoof -- the faint scent of grain, a low humm. What does this mean? LlamaWraith has infiltrated the building. Slinking with all the grace of a burdenbeast on the high peaks and spires, a dark figure - black, with faint hints of silver flashing a trail in the shadows, from time to time - another low humm is heard, and a muscular sillhouette, dragging something bulky and bulbous behind, is faintly seen in one corner. Did anyone see that? Who knows. The Wraiths Are On The Loose.

Rianna has disconnected.
Rianna curls up into a ball. Time for a nice nap!

Fortunatus blinks in from ::between::!

With the faint howl of a winter wind as backdrop, a mysterious figure appears silently from the 'Reaches night, a long black cloak billowing about them and hiding every glimpse of the form beneath it, and disguising the somewhat short stature of it's owner. A black-gloved hand snakes out, index finger pointing sharply at various exits from the caverns, before WraithLeader finds some shadows, and melts into them. Gone.

Daeyn's brows lift higher. "I was not staring," she replies in a cool voice, "and just because you feel threatened is no excuse to be rude." She peers across the caverns for a moment, eyeing sundry sights, the flickered wrinkle of a frown on her forehead before she gives in and takes a steadying sip of the tea. "What in the world ... ?"

Another black cloaked figure slinks in, footfalls only a faint scuffle against the stone floors. This Wraith, WaterWraith, moves with an extra swish, so her cloak billows and flutters with almost every movement. Dramatics. WaterWraith swishes and creeps towards the shadows, melding with the darkness that lurks here and there within the room, following the path of some of the other Wraiths. A flash of blonde may be visable near her low pulled hood, but it's quickly swallowed by darkness.

Undoubtably on the path to some sassy reply, Niea opens her mouth -- only to be diverted by the black, corner-lurking critter. "What's that?" She asks Daeyn, prior rudeness forgotten. "Ma said you people were an odd bunch, but she didn't tell me about this..."

Chilled northern winds suddenly rustle into the caverns in the form of a black puff of smoke, eeriness left in the wake of midnight that curls around the slim form. A pale, frozen-coloured hand is briefly seen, stark-white against the darkness surrounding it as the IceWraith slithers through the crowd, unseen, unnoticed, but definitely felt as a chilled whisper along one's neck. Was it a dream? Nightmare? Figment of one's imagination? Perhaps. Or not, as the smoke flows toward a chosen exit.

Daeyn cocks one shoulder in a shrug, observing with a distinct note of bemusement in her expression. "I have absolutely no idea," she remarks, no more moved by the scene as by actor's theatrics. "Of course, there are candidates in residence. That would explain a great deal. They always get stranger after they're Searched."

With the fury of a tempest, a gray-clad wraith storms through the living caverns with no care for the trappings of many, wreaking havoc in its pa... Okay, actually, the wraith probably didn't /mean/ to trip over that chair, but the figure recovered quickly enough. With that, the StormWraith scurries quickly away, like a vanishing summer rain.

"Oh, Candidates," echoes Niea sagely. "I know about 'em. We had 'em at Igen. Never saw ones like those, before." Almost hesitantly, she edges closer to Daeyn. "I'm not scared or nothing," she says hastily, "but they sure don't look like the Candidates I'm used to."

The snaking highlights of silver glint - this time, in the form of eyes, cold and brutal, before an exit is chosen and disappeared into briefly. Drool? What Drool? Llamae don't drool. Nigh fuzzy, puce-colored; nor inclined to drool, the Wraith slides with an eel-like slither, wherever it plans on going. Slipping into the deapth of the shadows, then into the pale vision of the outer skirts of the glows, the figure glints in reality and then back into the skulking corners, becoming the monster under everyone's bed. Is it there? Or isn't it? It takes a truly daring soul to find out.

Another movement in the shadows, the touch of an eerie laugh, and stillness. Another shadow moves, detatches, and WraithLeader whispers in Niea's ear, words hissed like a tunnelsnake. "Afraid... You've not begun to know fear, child..." A whisper of cloth and then stillness and calm in the shadows once more.

The rustle of telltale leather, and a low, disembodied chuckle fills the air -- darkness soon clouding out the faint impressions against the sudden silence of the caverns. Fear?

Daeyn quirks an irritated eyebrow as she glances from one ... movement to the next. "Off with you!" she exclaims. "Are you trying to de-populate the Weyr? Not that I don't think it could use it, from time to time ..." Get off the tangent, brownrider. "No need to fear," she assures Niea in a droll voice. "Disturbed, on the other hand, is another thing entirely."

Niea crinkles her forehead in mild confusion. "Ma was right -- you people are crazy." Wiping her runny nose on the back of her wrist, she sniffs heartily. "I dunno what kinda prank this is, but I don't think it's very good." She pauses and then suggests helpfully, "Why don't you go spike the klah with numbweed? That's a good prank."

A flash of pale greeny-blue can be seen from the shadows of beneath WaterWraiths hood, the color of swirling sea-foam, as the dark cloaked figure moves with liquid grace. Her cloak billows and the edges flip like arcing waves, the soft rustling of cloth mixing with the soft sound from the others, adding to the eerie effect. "Fear...." Is the whispering echo of WraithLeader's words as the dark figure slips past.

Laytai arrives from deeper in the Weyr.

Frozen winds threaten to reap the very life from those near this darkened form, a chilled laugh emitted with a strange echo. "Indeed...winter has arrived, my dears.." The voice trails off into the darkest corners of the caverns as the IceWraith moves near an ignorant bluerider, breath causing his hair to stand on end and he to drop his fork with a clatter. The IceWraith chuckles once more before drifting off into nothingness.

Daeyn's eyebrows lift even higher, but then she decides to let it go, turning her attention to Niea and sipping at her tea as if unaware of the rest of the world. "They're probably from Lemos," she says. "It's a little known fact, but residents of Lemos are, I'm afraid, quite unbalanced." She frowns at the girl for a heartbeat. "Who are you with?"

Laytai waves to all the people in the Caverns and walks about till she finds someplace to seat herself.

And from the shadows comes a final high laugh. Nay, more of a cackle. "Fly, my Wraiths, to your quests as one!" And then WraithLeader themself vanishes with a final ghostly whisper of cloth.

Thunder rolls down the hall until, as it reaches its height of volume, the large, slowly-moving storm wraith is briefly seen drifting past a doorway. Drift. And the scraping 'thunder' noises fade behind the figure as if it never were. In fact, you probbly imagined it.